“I wish you luck,” he said, before the Earl was upon them.
After a moment of feigning interest in Miss Browning, he bowed to her request for refreshment, and left. From there, he walked the gilded corridors until finally he saw Lady Caroline on her escort’s arm. As though compelled, her gaze slid to his, and hunger flashed across her eyes before she looked away. For all she had cultivated city polish—as he had, after leaving Cambridge—there was no doubting that she knew what it was to want.
“Excuse me,” he heard her say to Somerville, and then she was approaching him, steps light and her brow raised. “Did you truly come to seek me out?”
“Is that what you think?”
“I think yes.”
“I came for ratafia.” He reached past her to take a glass. “For Miss Browning.”
That was worth it to see the irritation spark in her eyes. “Is that so?” she asked. “Then forgive me for intruding.”
He took the glass and held it loosely in one hand, keeping his gaze fixed rigidly on her. “Does he please you more than me?”
“Somerville?” Her laugh scraped lower, and his need for her ballooned. “Why do you ask?”
He would have her. He was a man consumed.
“Make your excuses,” he said, and handed her the glass. “When the curtains rise, I’ll be waiting for you.”
“What makes you think I will come?” Her voice was throaty; her eyes were bright.
“Because I have bid it.” He withdrew, the glass in his hand. “And because you enjoy it when I make demands of you.”
“Is that so?” she murmured. Her irises were azure, no longer grey but utterly blue. Jewels, precious beyond measure. “What of the lovely Miss Browning?”
“She has as much interest in me as I do in her.”
“Oh, so she is not to be your next wife?”
“No.”
“A shame your outing here was for nothing.”
He could not help his smile as he raised the glass to her in a toast. “It was not for nothing.”
#
“I don’t think I have ever seen you look so pleased with yourself,” Sir Percy said as she returned to his side.
Caroline clucked her tongue, though there was an unfamiliar pit of excitement in her stomach. “Nonsense.”
“Is that so.” His voice was dry. “Let us both leave after the interval, if you are intending to abandon me in my box. I had rather not have my wife see another lady leave me.”
“Darling,” she said as they entered the box. “I would never be so cruel.”
“Are you about to do something foolish?”
Yes.
Her affairs were, on occasion, fun. Even if the gentlemen in question were bores, she often could coax them into pleasing her in bed.
But George was not a bore, and although he was eager to learn, he needed very little coaxing. In an alarming turn of events, she found she enjoyed conversation with him.
Horrifying. Distressing.
Oddly addictive.
