Too sweet.
“Your sister mentioned you were leaving London in a few days—that you’ve been selected as one of Sir Bickford-Crowdon’s protégés.” Ironically enough, in Brighton. She would make it known that she knew he would be leaving. She had no expectations.
He nodded slowly, still watching her. “Being selected is a great honor.”
He still hadn’t moved off of her. Miranda lifted her stockinged feet to the table, having lost her slippers during their joining, and braced them against the surface.
The effect left her cradling him between her knees.
“I have three days before I leave. Allow me to take you driving tomorrow afternoon.” He was younger than her but he was a grown man.
And his scrutiny unnerved her. The oddly formal request to take her driving while intimately joined made her squirm. And yet, there was nothing exceptional in it. And he was leaving London soon. Very soon.
“If you wish.” She wasn’t averse to appearing in public with a gentleman who was also her lover. Being a part of society often demanded that. But a warning rang in the back of her conscience—he is Peter Spencer, a Ravensdale.
And she barely existed on the fringes.
“It’s not necessary,” she added, shifting her weight and dropping her legs again.
Finally, he rolled off her, but he didn’t go far. He was laying on his side, resting his head on his hand.
Still watching me.
“What doyouwant, Miranda?” His question surprised her.
She was going to have to spell it out to him. “I don’t require formal attentions. I don’t need begrudging promises. I simply like this. I like sex.”
He lifted one brow but gave no other indication that she’d shocked him.
“I don’t need to be wooed. I’m not husband-hunting,” she elaborated. “I crave physical pleasure.” This time, it was she who lifted a brow. “If you’d like to better acquaint yourself with my craving in the time you have before you leave, you are welcome to visit me at Starling Place on—"
“No.” He shook his head. “I’ll reserve a suite at Mivart's.” He surprised her. “And we will go there after I take you for a drive.”
“It’s not as though we need to hide from my husband.” Not that she had ever cheated on Baldwin, contrary to the rumors she’d heard. Baldwin had deserved all of her loyalty.
“I’ll collect you at five.”
Miranda sat up. Before she could smooth her dress, he rose as well and pressed the handkerchief she’d dropped earlier into her hand.
“Very well.” She did not look at him when she answered, instead, turning away. She tidied herself but was not about to return to the ball. “No need to escort me inside. A path leads around to the front. I’ll send for my driver.”
He ignored her, tucking himself away and then fastening his trousers.
“Please, go back inside,” she clarified. “Don’t concern yourself. Your family will be wondering where you went off to.”
“I’m grateful to say that they no longer keep tabs on me.” A grin threatened to dance on his lips as he stood patiently waiting for her. “I’ll see you to your coach, Miranda. And after you are on your way, I’ll retrieve Rosa and retire for the evening myself.”
Rosa. She couldn’t help but recall how carefully he’d placed it—her?—into the luxurious case. Lovingly. Would he see her into her carriage with the same carefulness?
She dismissed such a fanciful thought and went to step away from the table, nearly collapsing when her knees buckled. If not for him reaching out to steady her, she would have landed hard at his feet. That would have been too embarrassing—as though she was overcome by their passion—like some simpering innocent.
“Do you require a moment?” He gentled his voice, and she didn’t understand why. Why would he care about the likes of her? This had been about sexual fulfillment—nothing more.
She steadied herself but he didn’t release her elbow.
“I’m fine.” Her legs trembled from holding them around him. “Do you?” she countered.
He chuckled, not quite beneath his breath. “I’m fine as well.” He moved closer and leaned down so that his breath warmed her cheek and jaw. “Better than fine.”
