She caught her breath. “You’re talking about becoming lovers.”
He hesitated and then slowly nodded. “Yes.” The footman came to the door and opened it, standing by at the ready to help her from the vehicle, but for a moment they only continued to look at each other. Then he smiled. “Think about it. We can discuss it when we next see each other.”
She gave one bob of her head before took the footman’s hand to exit the vehicle. “Good night, Vaughn.”
“Good night, Evie,” he said, and then the carriage door shut and he was off into the night, leaving her with questions and a desire she hadn’t felt for a very long time.
* * *
Vaughn’s hands were still shaking when he reached his home a quarter of an hour later. He greeted his servants absently as he made his way through the house and straight up to his chamber. He paced the room, thinking about Evie and the taste of her lips when she’d sighed shakily against him.
He wanted her. That was patently clear by his body’s reaction. Even now his cock still throbbed whenever he thought of the way her fingers had clenched against his shoulder, the way she’d tasted of mint and sherry and honey sweetness, about the way she’d looked at him, gaze glassy and soft with desire when they’d parted.
He hadn’t expected such a thing. After all, their arrangement had only been pretend, but here they were. He moved across the room, unwinding his cravat as he did so. He should call his valet to help, but he wanted to do something else first.
He collapsed on the settee before the fire and unfastened his fall front. Since Florence had left, he had been in too much of a spiral into hell to ponder pleasure. In this moment, he craved it like air. He shut his eyes, remembered Evie’s gasp once again and began to stroke his half-hard cock.
Everything in his life had been muted for months, filtered through the awful pain of the end of his marriage. Now his pleasure was sharp and crisp, rushing up his cock as he stroked and pictured Evie, her mouth, her tongue tangling around his own, her body lifting toward him with as much need as he felt.
He could picture what could have happened next if the carriage hadn’t turned into her drive or if he asked her if he could come in. He could easily imagine them smashing together, mouths seeking, hands tugging clothing. He wanted to feel her soft skin pressed to his, watch her ride above him with that silky dark hair swinging around her shoulders and her head thrown back in pleasure as she came with great waves gripping his cock.
He grunted as his own pleasure streaked hot as fire and he came with sudden, jolting gasps. He went limp on the settee as his cock slipped from his hand and then he stared up at the ceiling.
There was something calming about allowing himself to come undone like that. Of fully surrendering emotions he’d been tightly controlling for months. They were softened now, despite the fact that he’d seen his wife out in public with the man he’d once called friend.
Strange that he hadn’t been obsessing over that fact, but rather Evelina’s lips. Now, though, as he tucked himself back together, he did think of Florence and Southwater. He’d recognized the shape of his wife’s irritation when she’d looked across the opera house and seen him with Evie in his box. But he’d also seen other things. He’d glanced over toward them many times to find them with their heads close together, talking.
It made the facts of this awful situation all the clearer. Florence had made her choice and didn’t care about the consequences to herself or to him. The only thing that mattered to her was being with Southwater. She would burn them both on a pyre to do that.
Hadtheyever shared such a connection? Had his wife ever been willing to do anything to be with him? Not at first, of course, when the marriage had been arranged, but after they’d been together for a while. When things had been happier, had she ever looked at him across a room or a table and felt the thrill of affection and desire and a willingness to sacrifice everything to be closer?
He had tried, at least. He’d thrown himself into the marriage with a hope it could become warm, even loving. That they would produce children and a future and a life that gave him satisfaction when he reflected upon it at the end of his days. But it had always felt like she was pulling away, even before she turned to others to find her pleasure and her thrills.
He squeezed his eyes shut. All pleasant feelings from coming had fled now. He got up, went to the basin to wash his hands, and then rang for his valet. He’d have a drink and go to bed and hopefully everything would be clearer in the morning.
Because right now the cloudy combination of regret and desire was confusing, indeed.
* * *
“Iheard you went to the opera two nights ago.”
Evelina jolted from her distracted thoughts and looked toward her sister. She’d been having tea with Arabella this afternoon and trying to keep her thoughts focused and failing.
“I did,” she said, wishing her voice sounded a bit steadier. “Lord Blackburn took me.” She hesitated and then said, “Vaughn took me.”
It was an odd thing that she didn’t feel strange calling the man that to his face, but the intimacy of using his given name with her sister felt far more vulnerable. Arabella’s raised eyebrows didn’t lessen that sensation.
“Vaughn,” she repeated. “So you andVaughncame to an agreement after all.”
Evelina worried her hands in her lap. “We did. You seemed supportive of the idea before—have you changed your mind?”
“I don’t think Iseemedto have one opinion or the other about it.” Arabella tilted her head.
“So you don’t approve then?”
Her sister was quiet a moment, which was a rare enough occurrence that Evelina’s chest tightened a fraction as she awaited the response. At last Arabella sighed.
“I…think…” she began slowly, “…that the mere concept of pretending a relationship for the sake of revenge and show isn’t the worst idea. Certainly many courtesans are on the arm of a man to prove some point—it’s part of the life. This is little different. In theory.”
