Aunt Gabrielle peered at her over the top of her teacup. “I didn’t realize you were so devoted to Shakespeare, Henrietta.”
“It’s just that I’ve never been to the theatre.”
“I shall send Lady Montague a note, advising her of the new arrangements.”
“Thank you, aunt.”
Henrietta rushed up to her chamber and scribbled a hasty note to Mr. Foxwell. She would be at the gates to Vauxhall Gardens at precisely nine of the clock. Would he please have a suitable domino and mask there for her? She didn’t mention she would be alone. As she penned the words, a brief stab of guilt at her prevarication bothered her. She hoped her aunt would forgive her if she discovered it. The worry soon faded as excitement mounted. She wrote another note to Lady Montague advising her that she’d changed her mind and would not go. She gave both to Molly for a footman to deliver.
* * *
Anthony paid the hackney driver in front of the Pulteney Hotel and stood for a moment staring up at Verity Garnier’s window. She’d taken him completely by surprise, so swept away was he by this fascinating woman. He climbed the stairs, deep in thought. When he’d accepted Verity’s invitation to her rooms the first time, he’d expected to find an experienced courtesan, not a virgin. He was intrigued that she’d give him this gift. Something she’d obviously valued and must have had to fight to keep. Was it merely his patronage she sought? Somehow, he doubted it. Mademoiselle Verity was the most independent woman he’d met. She was a gifted actress and if society was not yet at her feet, they soon would be.
He paused at her door, his fist raised to knock. Had she a motive he was yet to discover? He’d seen her surrounded by eager young bucks, keen to become her lover. Yet she had chosen him. Caution told him to slow things down. Trouble was, as soon as he gazed into her beautiful eyes, his passion fired, and his brains deserted him. It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself to get this close to a woman.
After Anna died, he’d lived like a monk for a while, avoiding courtesans, as he hadn’t wished to sully her memory. In the last few years he’d enjoyed the odd dalliance, but there’d been no one he’d wanted to introduce to his daughter. Yet here he was, wanting to invite Verity into his world. She’d released something in him that proved to be explosive, lust certainly, but was he in danger of falling in love?
Verity answered his knock. “Beaumont.” She took his hand and drew him into the room. She raised her face to be kissed.
He obliged enjoying her sweet mouth, then took her by the shoulders and gently pushed her away.
Verity’s remarkable blue eyes searched his. She drew in a breath. “What is it?”
“I’d like to talk to you.”
He caught a glimpse of creamy breasts rising above the daintily embroidered stays as she turned away from him with a swish of the delicate silk wrap. He fought to suppress the desire to ease her breast free from its confines and kiss a rosy nipple. High color spread along her cheekbones. “You are early. I’m about to dress.” She looked vulnerable as she curled up on the sofa with her bare feet tucked under her.
With a rush of understanding, he sat beside her, and placed his arm around her pulling her close. She rested her fragrant head against his shoulder and toyed with his lapel. “What do you wish to talk about?”
“You gave me your most precious gift. I want to know why. A woman does not reach your age an innocent unless saving themselves for marriage.” He was almost afraid of her answer. He didn’t think himself a coward, but he’d rather face a maddened bull than suffer the fear of losing someone he loved again. And he was in very real danger here.
She shrugged her slim shoulders. “It became a burden. And I don’t see myself marrying now.” With a rueful laugh she gazed up at him. “Do you have any idea how attractive you are?”
Anthony rubbed his brow. “So, it’s attraction?”
Her expression was impossible to read. “I like you. I admire you.”
“That’s flattering, sweetheart, but you know little about me.”
“I know enough.” She pushed away from him restlessly, as if his proximity troubled her, and walked around the room, picking up a china ornament from the mantel and putting it down again. She was a vision of grace and beauty en dishabille, and he delighted in looking at her.
“Why must it be anything more than mutual attraction?” she said, finally.
There was more to this. He suddenly found he didn’t want to learn the truth as the need she stirred in him worked its magic. His breath caught at his body’s urgency. Must he be ruled by his cock? Annoyed, he thought himself better than that. He’d made her uneasy and sought to rectify it. “There doesn’t.” He stopped her restless pacing, his hand at her waist. Pulled her slim curves against him. She seemed vulnerable and it made him oddly protective of her.
Her mouth curved in a smile. “Then let’s enjoy each other,oui?”
Anthony hefted her up in his arms. He continued to kiss her as he carried her to the bed. As he laid her down, her wrap fell open. She was naked apart from her stays. His eyes on her, he pulled off his coat, and then his shirt. It was all too clear what she did to him.
“Mmm.” The dimple made another irresistible appearance when she smiled. He caught the brief flash of vulnerability again which connected somewhere deep inside. When she held her arms out to him, her exquisite beauty stripped away his last vestige of rational thought. With a soft moan, he joined her on the bed. Pressing kisses on her creamy throat, he breathed in her womanly fragrance, and apple blossom perfume. He enjoyed a fleeting vision of paradise—she completely naked, all pearly skin and nubile loveliness, before they went down a path together, to what? It could not be marriage.
Her fingers threaded through his hair at his nape. “That’s better,” she murmured. “My gallant lover has returned.”
“You intend to return to France?”
The sorrow in her eyes seemed genuine. “Oui. When the Season is over.”
He said nothing.
