“Come in,” she called as she pushed again at her husband. “Behave.”
“Never.” But Hart straightened, although his arms still banded around her waist, keeping her on his lap.
Mr. Townson came into the room, his gaze firmly directed at a spot above their heads. “Your carriage is ready.”
“Thank you, Townson,” Hart said as he ground his hard length up against her bottom.
The butler disappeared, closing the door behind him.
She twisted to face Hart. “I see you are determined to be a naughty boy.”
Hart grinned at her admonishment.
She reached down to unbutton the falls on his trousers. “I think I will just have to take you in hand and see what we can do about this hard cock.” She had learned so many new words for various body parts, but cock was her favorite.
Every time she said it, her husband groaned in approval. He loved when she told him explicitly what she wanted to do to him or what she wanted him to do to her. The power of having him literally in hand was heady and becoming addictive. His eyes fell shut as she grasped his cock.
She grinned down at him. “I guess we can be a few minutes late.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Hart stood nextto Lucy, his hand on her lower back as she spoke with a small group of people around them. The sun beat down on them, making him sweat and increasing his displeasure. It wasn’t that the conversation was all that boring but rather that he found himself supremely annoyed that he had to share Lucy with anyone at all. His new wife had proven to be as much of a distraction as he had feared. His obsession with every detail of her consumed him. The way she moved across a room, the many moods reflected in her expressive eyes, every inch of her lithe body, and the myriad of thoughts that tumbled randomly out of that beautiful, filthy mouth. Her clever brain was sharp and intuitive. Keeping up with her in conversation was a challenge he enjoyed every day.
This morning’s conversation reminded him that he hadn’t thought about his mission to find his family’s murderer in more than a week. Guilt lodged in his chest. He needed to get his focus back to where it belonged. Lucy glanced up at him with a smile, which melted some of that guilt. She had promised to help. Surely, it was okay to take a small reprieve from his task. His thirst for revenge had pulled him from the mire of melancholy he had fallen into after the accident, giving him a purpose. And it still was his purpose, but maybe it didn’t have to be the only thing in his life that was important.
The couple that Lucy had been conversing with wandered away. She turned to him. “Are you all right? You seem a million miles away.”
Hart nodded. “Yes, sorry.” He scanned the people crowded on the stone terrace where they stood.
The cream of society was all here to celebrate the Hollins’s anniversary. The crowd of elegantly dressed people made him uncomfortable but less so than he had felt at the Bartleby’s ball. Perhaps it was the outdoor setting. Large gardens extended out from the terrace. Landscaped in the formal French style, small boxwoods arranged in neat squares outlined cheerful flower gardens. White pea gravel paths intersected the bushes and led down to a long pool with colorful fish swimming amidst green lily pads. Guests dotted the lawns and paths everywhere he looked.
“You weren’t wrong about the party being well attended. It is very crowded out here, isn’t it?”
“It is a grand house. Although, it doesn’t have the same gothic atmosphere as Belstoke, which I prefer.” She shaded her eyes as she looked up at the house’s brick façade. “The ivy climbing the walls does give it some charm.”
Despite her wide-brimmed hat, which shaded her face, Hart saw a droplet of sweat slide down from her temple. And then he noticed that the hair at her nape was damp as well. “Are you too hot?”
She opened her fan and flicked it back and forth. “It has become quite warm, hasn’t it?”
“Let’s sneak inside. Maybe it will be cooler in the shade.” He guided her through the throng of guests across the terrace toward the house. They managed to make it the whole way without more than a few polite nods in passing. The back doors were propped open, and they escaped into a shadowed hallway.
“Where to?” he asked.
“Let’s explore,” Lucy whispered conspiratorially. She took hold of his hand and Hart followed her down the corridor. They passed by a stone staircase that descended belowstairs. The noise of voices and the clatter of pans led him to believe it went to the kitchens. Further along, the hallway opened to the center of the house. A carpeted grand staircase climbed up to the first floor. Lucy gave his hand a tug and continued down to the right.
This corridor was lined with windows that looked out the front of the house. In between each window, statues sat atop identical white pillars. They stopped in front of one that was a bust of their host, Lord Hollins.
Lucy scrunched her nose in distaste. “Why would you want a likeness of just your head? It’s a bit gruesome, in my opinion.”
“His lady is the next one down.” Hart pointed.
They walked down and peered at Lady Hollins’s head. The casting was eerily accurate, and it felt as though Lady Hollins was glaring disapprovingly at them for wandering through her home. “Maybe it is to deter bad behavior among the servants,” he said. “She certainly is scaring me.”
“Come, let’s see what’s in here.” Lucy turned and opened a door behind them. “Oh, it’s the ballroom!”
Hart followed her inside. The ballroom stretched in a long rectangle, about three hundred feet at least. Three sets of double doors would open to the corridor they had just come from. Along the opposite wall, tall mirrors hung every few feet down its length, giving the illusion of the room being wider than it actually was. Above those mirrors, small square windows lined the upper half of the wall, letting in some natural light. The room was gilded from top to bottom. Mirrors, molding, and chandeliers all done in gold tones.
Lucy raced out into the middle of the patterned wood floor. Spreading her arms wide, she twirled in circles. She laughed as she came to a stop. “I’ve always wanted to do that in the middle of the dance floor, but there is always the pesky problem of the other guests.”
