“He doesn’t need any sending for that,” Roslynn replied bitterly.
But Frances had a point. Ifshewasn’t sharing Anthony’s bed, someone else would eventually. But then she had known that when she made her bargain. She just hadn’t wanted to admit at that time that it would matter to her. But it did matter, terribly, because she loved him.
Returning home at eleven, Roslynn had only just removed her evening cloak and gloves when the door opened again and Anthony and George stumbled over the threshold. Dobson took one look at them and sighed. Roslynn felt she had played this scene before, and it had been no more amusing the last time, though this time it appeared Anthony was doing the supporting. George looked half asleep.
“You’re home early,” Roslynn remarked, keeping her tone neutral.
“The old boy got royally foxed and passed out. Thought I’d better get him to bed.”
“So you brought him here instead of taking him home?”
Anthony shrugged. “Habit, my dear. When we used to make a night of it, more times than not old George would end up here. Has his own room, don’t you know. Though, actually, come to think of it, you have it now.”
They stared at each other a long moment before George broke the contact. “What’s that? Who has my room?”
“Don’t worry about it, old man. My wife has a few of her things in it that she’ll be happy to move for tonight. Won’t you, my dear?”
Roslynn’s heart turned over. Had he brought George home just so shewouldhave to move? And the only place she could move to was his room.
“Don’t go to any trouble on my account, Lady Malory.”
She understood him perfectly, though his words were terribly slurred and he couldn’t seem to locate her, his eyes settling on Dobson instead. “It’s no trouble, George,” Roslynn assured him. “If you’ll just give me a moment—”
“Don’t have a moment,” Anthony interjected. “He’s bloody well heavy, you know. And if I put him down, he’ll never get back up. Just proceed us, my dear, and get what you need.”
She did, quickly, rushing through the room to gather her things while Anthony dumped George on the bed. George’s room? So those were George’s sonnets she had found in here. She never would have thought it of such a rakehell, but then you never knew. Frances was luckier than she realized.
She left the room just as quickly, for Anthony hadn’t waited to start undressing George. In the corridor, she stared at the door to Anthony’s room. This was what he meant for her to do, wasn’t it? But then whereelse could she sleep? Jeremy and James probably weren’t home yet, but they would be. And there were only the four rooms upstairs.
She entered the room hesitantly, expecting to find Willis waiting there for Anthony, even though the valet had been scarce these past two weeks, coming only when Anthony summoned him. The room was empty, however. Either Anthony had planned this, or he hadn’t yet told Willis to hold himself available again. Then, too, the hourwasearly, by London standards. Willis wouldn’t expect Anthony home this soon.
Roslynn sighed, not knowing what to think. But she wasn’t going to miss this opportunity. She couldn’t have planned it better herself. She wouldn’t have to sacrifice her pride and confess what a fool she’d been. She could simply show Anthony that she wasn’t adverse to being here, that in fact she wanted to be here.
She began removing her evening apparel. She was down to her chemise when Anthony walked into the room. His gaze rested on her for several heartbeats before he went on into his dressing room. Roslynn hastily got into bed. She wished he had said something. God, how this reminded her of her wedding night. And she was just as nervous now as she had been then.
When he came out, he was wearing only a robe. She at least had thought to slip on a nightgown. She wasn’t going to bethatobvious about what she wanted.
But it was obvious. While he moved about the room to turn down the lamps, desire lit the golden flecks in her eyes as they followed his superb form. She had had too much of him lately. She had found that it wasn’t nearly enough. It never would be.
It was dark now, with only a silver stream of moonlight spilling in through the windows. Before her eyes adjusted, her other senses came alive. She could smell him as he drew near. When the bed dipped, she held her breath, waiting. She was experiencing that same giddy feeling she always felt when he was near. He would lean toward her in a moment. His mouth would find hers in the dark, warm, demanding…
“Good night, my dear.”
Her eyes flew open. Hell’s teeth, he hadn’t planned the eviction from her room, after all. He was holding to her own rules not to touch her once she had conceived. It wasn’t fair. Howcouldhe, when she was lying right next to him, wanting him more than anything?
“Anthony—”
“Yes?”
His tone was sharp to her ears, killing her courage. “Nothing,” she mumbled.
Roslynn lay there, counting her heartbeats, wishing she had drunk more than two glasses of champagne at Frances’ party. But she had been thinking of tomorrow morning and the nausea she would have to fight to get to the wedding. She hadn’t known sleep was going to be impossible. Just last night she had felt free to turn to Anthony, to rest her head on his chest, to counthisheartbeats. What a world of difference a single day made. No, not the day. Her cursed bargain.
This just wouldn’t do. She was going to have to…
She heard the groan just before Anthony’s hands reached over and pulled her across his chest. His kiss was wild, full of unleashed passion that set them both aflame. Roslynn didn’t question it, she just accepted,so delighted and relieved that she abandoned herself completely, wantonly, to the moment. Pride couldn’t equal this. She loved him. She would have to tell him, but now was not the time. Later, when she could think clearly once again.
Chapter Forty-three
