“I suppose it depends on what you value.” Lowering his hands from under his head, he ran a single strong finger in a line between her breasts to her navel, which he circled, making Brilliance squirm. She batted his hand away to stop the tickling sensation.
“There are dozens of titled ladies in London, after all, but few famous composers’ wives. When she realized I didn’t have the ambition to become a concert pianist, she betrayed me. And Ambrose went along with it.”
“Now that he has left the London stage,” Brilliance said, “perhaps you might offer the deprived listeners a concert or two.” She hoped he would not discount her idea out of hand.
“Deprived?” he asked.
“Of your music,” she insisted.
“I still prefer composing to performing.” His fingers had reached her inner thigh. “Except for family and friends.”
“And your wife,” she added.
“Definitely for my wife.” His fingers were working their way to her most sensitive parts.
“I almost feel sorry for Mrs. Castern, missing out on your talented hands.”
“You don’t care about fame?” Vincent asked.
To her amazement, given what they had just done, he rose over her and nestled between her legs. He seemed to have the intent to make love again.
“Not unless I earn it my —”
His kiss stopped her words. With very little preamble, he entered her once more, and they made their own music long into the night.
Epilogue
Brilliance was pleased with the progress in the garden behind her home on King Street. There was a wickerwork dining set on the terrace and a double-wide swing under the apple tree. She had personally planted flowers and been advised to put in bulbs the upcoming autumn for the following year.
That day, while Vincent was in the House of Lords, she directed a footman in the hanging of lanterns now that the weather was warm enough to be outside in the evening. For she had kept a secret from her husband, which she intended to tell him that night over a garden dinner.
As the hours ticked slowly by, she was tingling with excitement. Thus, when he came in the door, she ran to him. He dropped a package on the tile a second before Brilliance launched herself at his tall, sturdy form.
“Good day, Husband.”
“What have you done?” he asked, sweeping his arms around her.
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked.
“Whenever you purchase new furnishings or hire painters and wallpaper hangers to redecorate a room, you greet me in such a good mood.”
She hadn’t realized that was the case, and it made her smile. Before she could even tell him about the new lanterns, however, his mouth came down on hers. With their usual passion, his hands sought her soft flesh, grabbing hold, while she melted against him.
How blissful was their marriage, she thought.Thank goodness she hadn’t ended up with Lord Redley.
When Vincent lifted his head, she leaned back in his arms. “Did I ever tell you my former beau, Lord Redley, apologized to me? He was at one of the earliest concerts when Mr. Castern began giving you credit. Apparently, there were some disgruntled audience members who —”
“Did he pay you a visit?” Her husband’s eyebrows had drawn together.
“Who? Mr. Castern?” she teased. “Oh, you mean Lord Redley. You are jealous. How sweet!” Resting her cheek on his chest, she added, “It was before we married. He sent me a short missive of apology and asked to come calling.” She felt him stiffen. “I declined, but I was glad that he and his aunt and all the world learned the truth about your music.”
His hand cradled the back of her head, his fingers gently massaging her scalp. This familiar action usually ruined her coiffure but was well worth it.
She sighed forgetting they were still in the foyer.
“Speaking of my music, I have a surprise to share,” he said.
She reared back so she could look into his gray-green eyes.
