And suddenly, without warning, he was sitting up and tucking her bared breasts back into her bodice.
Cool air struck and she blinked, swallowing hard in an attempt to regain her composure.
“Seven,” he announced with a cocksure grin.
“Seven?”
He stared down at his cravat where his fingers fumbled at the fabric. “How did you untie this so quickly?”
“What do you mean, seven?” Bethany shooed his hands away and retied the ironed linen strip with practiced ease, having done so on multiple occasions for her brother when he was without his valet.
“Seven kisses.” He’d tipped his head back for her, but that didn’t keep him from watching her with dancing eyes. “That was your seventh kiss. Five kisses earlier this afternoon and one at dinner. This one makes for seven kisses.”
Oddly enough, he was making perfect sense.
“That’s very good.” She marveled at his ingenuity, adjusting the knot she’d made so that it was perfectly even and feeling a warmth and courage she’d not had two minutes before.
“What do you say,Wife? Are you ready to face the dragons with me?” He gestured toward the door, eyes twinkling. “Before, that is, Blackheart’s footman sends us around to the end of the line again.”
Going around and waiting behind the long line was tempting… especially if her husband was inclined to increase the count to eight. But no, best to keep things at seven until they made it past this scrape.
Besides, waiting would only put off the inevitable.
She needed to do this. Smoothing her skirts, she was emboldened by the fact that her hands hardly shook at all. “I’m ready.”
Chase pushed open the door, and the very proper footman assisted her onto the pavement.
Chapter 18
A Show of Support
Chase leapt out of the carriage and led Bethany to the line where elegantly dressed guests waited. With his hand on her back, he couldn’t help but think he would enjoy a cigar just then. Either that or take a quick run around Hyde Park.
He hated like hell that he felt anything less than perfectly at ease.
Not for himself; he was quite adept at laughing in the midst of storms and pretending the world wasn’t conspiring against him. But he was concerned about Bethany. He could claim at most three dances with her. And although he was tempted to remain at her side for most of the evening, she’d be expected to hold her own.
He dropped a quick glance to where her pelisse revealed a hint of the alabaster skin, skin he’d had his mouth on a few moments ago. He wouldn’t mind distracting her again if necessary.
If attending tonight wasn’t crucial to their social standing, he’d have ordered the driver home. He’d have promptly whisked her upstairs to his chamber where they could carry on where he’d had to leave off.
One minute longer and he’d have had his hand up her skirts…
“If it isn’t Lord Chaswick and his bride.” Stone approached, cutting off thoughts that could have made for an embarrassing situation. Mantis and Greys sauntered along behind him. They were here with a purpose. All three gave off an air of apathetic tolerance but Chase had known them long enough to know it was a ruse. Despite the pounding he’d taken the other night, both physically and verbally, he gratefully welcomed their presence.
These were the fellows who’d never failed to have his back. These three plus Westerley and Blackheart.
“Lady Chaswick.” Greys, dressed to the nines in a scarlet jacket, periwinkle waistcoat, and skintight violet breeches—making a statement of both high fashion and wealth as only he could—bowed low over Bethany’s hand. “Tell me this bounder is taking good care of you.”
Bethany slid a guilty smile over to Chase and then dropped her lashes. “He is, My Lord.”
Her blush, of course, had all three of these fellows imagining the marriage had been consummated to her satisfaction. Chase wouldn’t correct the assumption.
Mantis and then Stone took turns bowing over Bethany’s hand. “Any word from your brother?” the latter asked.
Damnit, Stone. Chase shot his normally good-humored pal a warning look. This was not the time to remind Bethany of other difficult circumstances looming in their future. They would suffer through this evening first.
“Lady Chaswick!” A girlish voice rose over the crowd. “Bethany!”
