“I shall send word.” He got out and offered Adelia his hand.
As she brushed against him, he whispered something in her ear. She knew this by the warm breath against her lobe. Unfortunately, she couldn’t make out what he said.
Should she let it go unheard? How could she?Adelia would never sleep that night if she didn’t know what he’d said.
Sighing at her own affliction, she turned her good ear toward him and asked, “I beg your pardon, my lord?”
He paused and frowned slightly but bent his head low again and whispered against the shell of her ear, “I think you are marvelous.”
Oh my!She was glad she’d asked him to repeat himself. Beaming up at him, not minding that Penny stood close by as did the coachman, she softly said, “I think you…you are, too.”
Blast her nerves, causing her to stutter, but it had been the smallest of hiccups. And his lordship looked genuinely pleased. She let him walk her to the door.
Her brother was assuredly out as he’d said he would be. Where or with whom, she didn’t know. All the same, the door opened, and their capable butler surveyed the scene on the doorstep. Penny curtsied to Owen and slipped indoors to give her mistress a moment alone.
“I shall surprise you with my next invitation,” he said.
She watched as he took her left hand, drew off her glove, and raised it to his lips for a kiss. It was silly and gallant and wonderful, not at all as when Mr. Beaumont had done similarly.
Especially as Owen winked rakishly but endearingly before turning away.
Adelia sighed.How could this be happening to her?
She watched his carriage depart and practically floated up the stairs to let Penny help her undress. Adelia wanted to do nothing more than lie upon her cool sheets and recall every second of the evening.
And where did she want Lord Owen Burnley to take her next?
The most shocking notion popped into her head.Why, to his bed, of course!
*
Owen could notgo home. Something exhilarating was coursing through his veins, something new and hopeful. And despite deciding to go directly to the East End and spend more hours on his probably fruitless task, his mind wandered to the alluring Lady Adelia. Everything about her was enticing, from her thoughts to her soft-spoken manner, to the way she blossomed under his touch.
In the carriage, he had wanted her in a visceral, carnal way, and all because of the look in her eyes and the expression on her face after he kissed her. She was desire personified. It radiated from her like sunbeams. If they’d been somewhere private, he had no doubt she would have let him do much more than caress her through her clothing.
And the strange thing was, she did not seem to be husband hunting. Certainly, not trying to trap him. Nor would he consider her a woman of loose virtue, not by any means. She wasn’t coy, yet neither was she frigid. She seemed to be refreshingly straightforward and honest, the kind of woman he had searched for his first two Seasons until he’d grown tired of the desperate title hunters. He’d decided to play their game for whatever he could get from them, and thus, he’d spent the past two years sporting with the fairer sex.
If they fawned over him, he let them. If they allowed him to take liberties with their person, he took them. If any of them ever started to cry, he gave them his bored look, seeing how quickly their crocodile tears became anger and frustration. If any threatened to have a brother or father call him out, he would bow low and say he welcomed the challenge before flexing his muscles and making fists of his large hands.
Usually, they changed their minds about endangering a loved one to obtain an unwilling husband.
Like most of his friends, Owen usually went to an experienced whore to indulge in satisfying sexual activity, the kind he found himself wanting with Adelia. He favored one harlot in particular and paid her well, as did her other clients. She was clean, discerning, and always insisted he wore a sheath to protect them both—the finest, thinnest kind from France.
Nonetheless, he’d grown bored and even a little ashamed, perhaps ever since his good friend Westing displayed such joy in matrimony and the deep bond he’d forged with Lady Jane. Now, in the face of Sophia’s murder, Owen would welcome a return to that previous boredom. He longed for the dull existence he’d known until some monster had taken his sister.
Despite that, he didn’t yearn for his life before Adelia entered it. Everything had seemed colorless and mundane until she had brought her spark.
Looking out the window into the darkness, he was getting closer to the wretchedness of the East End.How could he ever subject a wife to the turmoil of rage and confusion swirling inside him?
In any case, he could hardly do such a blissfully mundane thing as marrying, nothing so civil and polite, untilafterhe’d brought the killer to justice. Owen couldn’t disrespect his sister by having a lighthearted day at a church, despite social expectations having no strict rules for a brother grieving a sister. Also, he had his parents to consider.
They would love Adelia. The thought popped into his head. Or they would once their grief subsided a little. If it ever did. He glanced down at his black gloves on the seat, the outward sign of his mourning along with his dark suit, and he yanked them back on, almost tearing them.
Still, he wanted Adelia. And not only naked in his bed! He wanted her forever.
Good God!He was well and truly smitten.
Sighing, he realized his driver had brought him to Whitechapel Road. So quickly. He ran a hand over his face and scruffed up his hair. He was tired. No, beyond that, he was exhausted.
