Penelope had been mistaken! Margaret would take her sister-in-law to task in the morning for making such an egregious error, but for tonight, she could hardly comprehend the magnitude of what she’d nearly done.
And not with just anyone but with her fiancé’s nephew!
Oh, dear God! She chastised herself again and again. She deserved this for allowing herself to attempt such a selfish errand.
At the same time, her traitorous body throbbed with the wicked need he’d awakened. She touched her fingertips to her lips. They were swollen. Her breasts ached and an emptiness at her core beseeched her to be touched.
“Oh, Lawrence! What have I done?”
3
A Late Arrival
By the time Sebastian Wright, Marquess of Rockingham, was able to step into his trousers and stumble to the door to peer outside, his late-night visitor was long gone. In frustration and disbelief, he scrubbed one hand down his face.
“Lucky, lucky Uncle George.” He chuckled as he closed the door, brows raised.
Just over one week ago, in London, his mother had informed him that her only brother, dear old Uncle George, was finally going to take a wife. She’d announced that Sebastian’s uncle, who’d sworn never to marry, had absented himself from Mayfair a few weeks ago in order to make an offer to Viscount Danbury’s widowed sister, Lady Asherton. He’d traveled to the far ends of England, in fact, to do so.
And now Sebastian had, as well. Because dear old Uncle George had forgotten to take with him a most vital necessity: a ring.
“You will take it to him, won’t you, Sebastian?” The priceless heirloom had been set aside by his mother’s family for the second son to gift his intended. “The house party promises to be most enjoyable, and it’s not as though you have anything better to do with your time.”
“George wants to marry?” Sebastian could hardly believe it. His uncle had never shown any inclination whatsoever to take on a leg shackle. “He has fallen in love with the woman?” It could be the only explanation.
“At his age, why else would he break his vow of bachelorhood?” His mother had shrugged. “But now that he has, he really must do it properly. George is a very handsome man and of an excellent lineage, but the ladyisa countess and the ring might help him to persuade her if she is wavering. It would make me so very happy to see my brother settle down and be happy—perhaps even begin a family.”
She’d exerted the most powerful item in her arsenal upon Sebastian—motherly guilt. Something Sebastian nearly always succumbed to.
“George must have the ring to present to her, and there is no one else who can be trusted with something so valuable,” she’d implored him. “Please, darling?”
He was quite certain that she had other reasons for sending him to the ends of the earth. The Duchess of Standish wished to remove her eldest son from the clutches of one Miss Celeste Blanchette, the opera singer who’d caught his eye this month. And, of course, she’d been successful. Because her eldest was a good son, a loyal son.
Padding barefooted across the floor, Sebastian adjusted himself and winced. Celeste would have come in handy in this moment. Her mouth was not only gifted for song…
Could the woman who’d bolted from his bed be his uncle’s widow? Surely not!
Sebastian rubbed his chin. If she wasn’t the widow, then who, exactly, was she?
With a regretful sigh, he located the flint that had eluded him earlier and lit a few candles. A glance at the bed assured him he had not dreamt the unusually erotic encounter that had left him unsatisfied. The counterpane lay wrinkled at the foot of the bed and both pillows were quite disturbed.
He rubbed his fingers together and then held them up to his lips. She’d left a flowery, musky aroma that did nothing to quiet his awakened libido—dashed uncomfortable.
Was it lavender?
She could not have been the widow.
If she was not, that meant that Uncle George was not in love and was not planning to abandon his wicked ways. The man had nerve, that was for certain—attending a house party with his fiancée while also seeking out a dalliance.
In his fiancée’s brother’s house, no less.
He shook his head.
Sebastian removed his trousers before extinguishing the flame, drawing up the counterpane, and climbing back into bed. Of course, she’d thought it was George’s room. Upon arriving, his uncle had taken one look at the elegant chamber Lady Danbury had allotted Sebastian and promptly complained about the direction the windows faced in his own. Would his dearest nephew mind changing with him?
Sebastian couldn’t help chuckling that his uncle had indeed missed out for his want of a larger chamber. Ultimately, Sebastian would miss out as well. He’d halted their lovemaking too soon, or not soon enough, depending upon how he chose to look at it.
Sebastian plumped his pillow and then adjusted himself a second time. Damn, but he’d come so close to indulging in his favorite feast in the world. The scent on the pillow reminded him of silken hair beneath his hands, luxurious and inviting.
