Lisbeth was thankfulfor the silence in the carriage. However, there was an energy in the air, of issues unresolved, that had her sitting tensely in her seat. Bellamy said not a word, just kept staring at her. Was he still angry about the armoire? He wasn’t usually the type to hold on to his anger for long. Still, he kept his gaze on her. What was he looking for?
Her nerves stretched like the fine hair on a violin bow, and she wondered how much more she could take before they broke into disarray. Seeing her sister, being warned off by her grandmother, and the unquenched sexual tension between Bellamy and herself was not doing her anxiety any favors. To make matters worse, she could still feel his kiss on her lips and remember the heat of his hand as it glided up her thigh… to her….
She felt the warmth of a blush on her cheeks and glanced over at Bellamy. He was still looking at her. She wished he wouldstop. It was doing strange things to her insides. Silly, girlish things.
The silence stretched. The only sound in the carriage was her breathing and the rattle of the carriage wheels on the cobbles below them. She was tired of constantly battling her emotions. It was difficult trying to maintain indifference when what she felt was so much more. Anger, desire… shame. What a terrible combination.
Yet her body thrummed with the awareness of his body being opposite her. If she moved her leg a fraction she could touch him. Had he liked her hands on him? He certainly seemed to. He hadn’t liked it when she had burst out of the armoire, halting his seduction. Neither had she, but she’d had little choice at the time as her brain had argued for rational retreat. She had liked him touching her and so had her body. Oh, but there were so many reasons not to complicate this relationship any more than it already was.
He is going to leave you in two weeks, when the season is over.
Yes, but why not enjoy yourself for this short time? Why must you always deny yourself?
Because I am scared.
Lisbeth closed her eyes—longing for some relief from all she was feeling. When she opened her eyes, it was to find Bellamy still studying her with a slight frown upon his handsome face.
“I’ll take you home,” he said.
“No, that won’t be necessary. I am quite prepared to go on to our next engagement.”
“Countess, there is no use in exhausting yourself.”
“So eager to be rid of me?” she retorted in a manner which disgusted even herself.
“With all possible haste,” he replied.
Lisbeth tried to hide her shock and hurt at his comment. So, hewasstill angry with her. Well, she was angry with him too. It wasn’t like she started the incident in the armoire,hedid.
She had to remember her purpose for re-entering society and his part in it. She had tried so hard to keep to their agreement and yet after the dance at her grandmother’s soiree he had not asked her to do another wager from his list. She could not lose sight of her goal now. Neither could she let him forget their agreement. It was business, not personal. Both of them had let their baser instincts shadow their focus. It couldn’t happen again.
She needed to prove her innocence beyond doubt. If she didn’t, all her self-worth would be lost, and she would have nothing left but this cynical shell which she despised.
“Well, I’m afraid you will have to wait to be rid of me until after…” Digging out her schedule with shaking hands, she attempted to read it in the dark.
“Phelps is next on the list,” he said, his tone bored. “I’m surprised you don’t remember. You must surely have memorized it by now—you have looked at it so often tonight.”
Ignoring him, she tapped on the roof and instructed the coachman to stop under a streetlamp.
Oliver tried to keep his annoyance under control, but it was difficult when she kept doing irritating things like leaning half out the window with her backside absorbing his view. Did she have any idea what kind of picture she was presenting him? Was she doing it on purpose? What he couldn’t see in the dimness of the carriage, his mind was more than willing to make up. He had contemplated her backside more times than was healthy as it was. He had held it in his hands tonight and that was something a man did not forget in a hurry. He doubted he would ever forget what happened in that infernal armoire.
“What are you doing?” Oliver asked with a sigh. The urge to get his foot and give her a little assistance out the window was tempting, especially after her little pantomime in Selbourne’s boudoir.
“Why do you… not have a… lamp in your carriage, Bellamy? This is most awkward.”
“I’ve never had need of one. I may perhaps have one installed tomorrow just so you won’t be teasing me by wiggling your derrière in my direction in a most distracting manner. It is deuced awkward… for me!” He put his hands on her waist, his fingers sliding deliciously over the dark-emerald satin.
“I… the schedule… I have to…” she said.
He pulled her back in the window before she injured herself. “Forget the stupid schedule,” he growled, grabbing the vellum.
“No, you don’t understand,” she said, wrestling with him over it.
“I understand… you’re being completely ridiculous,” he muttered while trying to avoid her flailing hands. “You could have fallen out of the window and broken your neck. Although I see my concerns about your safety do not, for some reason, concern you.” He had her under control, but she still did not realize her fight was lost.
Oh, how he wanted to kiss her again. The fury in her eyes just made it harder not to.
“I have to go to the Phelps’s, it’s on my schedule,” she bit out, giving up on getting back her schedule and digging into her reticule for her pocket watch with shaky fingers. He grabbed it too and her eyes grew huge with shock and disbelief. “Give that back!” she yelled.
