“Oh, no!” She froze. Apparently, she’d forgotten all manners, all sense of social boundaries, as one of her hands rested on his no longer… well… uninterested—
“It’s moving!”
Ah… yes. Marcus wasn’t sure whether he ought to cover his face in mortification or turn the chit over his knees for a good spanking.
“Yourmentula.”
“My what?”
“It’s… er… Latin,” she mumbled but hadn’t yet withdrawn her hand. In fact, she appeared somewhat mesmerized. As though she’d like to investigate further.
A swim in a frozen lake. Vomit. An unemptied chamber pot.It took all of Marcus’ imagination in order to conjure images so that he could bring himself under control.
“You.” His voice came out sounding strained nonetheless. “You crushed your lens. Have a care not to cut yourself.” Gripping her elbows, he lifted her ever so carefully from the floor. That dazed look on her face finally twisted into horror.
Marcus ignored it.
Instead, he bent over and retrieved what was left of the lens—all seven pieces of it. “I’m afraid you’ll have to locate that other pair, Miss Goodnight. This one’s quite beyond repair.”
She’d begun scrambling around, collecting the books that had spilled from her bag. Mostly romantic drivel, he saw… except for…Hell’s bells. Did her mother know the extent of this hoyden’s reading?The Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure?
He could not quite make out the author before she hastily stuffed it into the worn but sturdy bag.
“Can you see to walk with only one lens?”
She seemed disoriented, but he wasn’t sure if it was from her unanticipated examination of hismentulaor her impaired vision.
“I’m fine. Quite fine.” She refused to look in his direction, choosing instead to feel around the door in order to climb out.
When she did so, the sunlight reflected off the remaining lens in her spectacles and nearly blinded him. The sensation reminded him of when one of the boys at Eton had used a magnifying glass to torture insects.
Marcus blinked and then, afraid she’d tumble to the pavement below, grasped her by the waist until he was certain she’d exited safely.
Manipulations
Emily sat, somewhat dejected, in one of the most beautiful chambers she’d ever been in. From what she could see of it anyhow. Her mother hadn’t allowed Hettie to come along, insisting she’d need her services herself, and so Emily had opened her trunk herself in search of the other pair of spectacles.
All she’d managed to do was spread everything around the room and become slightly nauseated in the process. She experienced almost normal vision if she kept one eye closed but even that managed to give her something of a headache.
She didn’t want to bother Sophia though, what with the baby… and Prescott, of course.
And as horrified as she was by her current predicament, it was nothing compared to the mortification she’d experienced when she’d realized exactly what it was she had been stroking.
She moaned again. Something she’d done quite a bit of since being left alone to fend for herself. How could she possibly face him again? She’d been frantic to locate the lens!But, oh, you stupid idiot, Emily! You addlepated, dizzy-eyed pignut!
There were not nearly enough words in the dictionary she could call herself.
And now, unable to see clearly and dizzy from her efforts, she was even more of a mess.
But, oh!
Good heavens! Recalling the feel of him beneath her hand! She’d been so frantic in the moment, but now, remembering…
His chest had felt hard and warm. As she’d moved her hands downward, he’d been, not softer, but sinewy. Yes, he’d felt sinewy.
And then, his legs. They’d felt hard as wood. And between them! It had jumped and then stirred.
Emily had thought for a moment that he had a mouse in his pants.
