He quickly turned the key and slipped it into his pocket.
Rosalie sputtered with outrage. “Just what do you think you’re doing? Mrs. Beauclerk said the door was to remainopen.”
Lucian gave her a bland smile. “So she did.”
“Youvillain,” she hissed.
He clasped his hands behind his back. “So you’ve told me. Repeatedly. If I have to tolerate these accusations, I should at least be able to enjoy the fruits of my misdeeds.”
She held out a hand, palm up. Her jaw was locked in that mulish set that he secretly found adorable. “Give it here!”
Instead of complying, he sank onto the sofa. He lounged back, hands behind his head. He propped his legs up, but he was careful to keep his boots off the cream silk upholstery. He wasn’t amonster. “Come and take it.”
She eyed him warily. He had placed the key in his inside jacket pocket, the one that was currently wedged against the back of the sofa cushions. In order to retrieve it, she would haveto unbutton his coat, climb halfway on top of him, and scour his torso in search of the slim pocket.
God, the mere thought of her doing that had his cock swelling. Not to its full hardness, but he was wearing the latest fashion, which called for breeches so tight you could tell a man’s religion. If Rosalie’s gaze strayed in that direction, she was bound to notice.
He glanced at her face. Oh, she had noticed, all right. Her predominant emotion appeared to be revulsion.
But unless he was mistaken, which he rarely was when it came to women, there was also a sliver of longing.
He could work with that.
He gave her his best bedroom eyes. “Come on, Rosalie. You know you want to.”
“I assure you, I donot!”
He added a feline smile. “So, you’re saying that you wantto remain closeted in this room with me.”
He was half afraid sparks would shoot from her icy blue eyes. “That is not what I meant, and you know it!”
“If we spend too much longer alone together, you’ll be ruined. Then you’llhaveto marry me.” He tutted. “You say that’s the last thing you want, but your actions tell a different tale.”
He was glad she didn’t have a knife readily at hand, because judging by her expression, he was fairly certain she would have stabbed him in the thigh. “You, sir, are acad!”
He pressed a hand to his heart. “Acad! However shall I bear such an insult? What will you call me next? A knave? A louse? A toad? Or even… apopinjay?”
She fired off a string of rapid Italian, that was, suffice it to say, much stronger thanpopinjay.
He bit back a smile. God, but he had missed her. She was like a spicy curry after years spent subsisting on plain porridge.
Not that she needed to know that.Yet.
Instead, he feigned shock. “Tsk, tsk, Lady Rosalie. Unfortunately for you, I spent six months of my absence in Venice. I managed to pick up a little Italian.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure those were the first words you learned.”
He ignored her barb. “Venice is stunning. The City of Love!”
“Whatever it is you do, it isn’t love,” she said waspishly.
“Could you be referring tolust? Are young ladies even supposed to know about lust?” He shook his head. “It’s a good thing the patronesses of Almack’s aren’t here. You’d lose your voucher.”
“They can have the bloody thing!” she snapped. “There’s nothing at Almack’s but weak lemonade and even weaker minds. If it weren’t for my mother’s insistence, I would never darken its door.”
He happened to agree. “I’m glad you told me your opinion. Once we’re married, I promise never to take you there.”
She snorted. “As if you could ever secure a voucher.”
