Chapter Fifteen
Ominous, heavy rainclouds swept overhead as Montsimon’s carriage set off for Slough. Althea had dressed with care in her dove-colored carriage gown in the Grecian style. The collars and cuffs of her purple redingote were trimmed with ermine, and her hat made of the same fur. She settled against the squabs opposite Montsimon and tucked her purple half-boots out of the way of his long legs. “I hope the roads remain passable.”
Montsimon crossed one tasseled boot over the other and settled himself against the maroon leather squabs. “No need to worry.” He gave a careless shrug. “If we must, we can put up at a coaching inn for the night.”
“My reputation may already be in shreds, Montsimon,” she said. “This road is frequented by thetontraveling to and from Bath. If I’m seen staying at an inn in your company without even my maid—”
“And, as thetonthrives on gossip, and will be delighted to pounce on something improper to discuss at length,” he interrupted, completing her sentence. “What a pity we won’t be making it worth their while.” He raised an eyebrow. “Or might we?”
Althea looked at her Limeric gloves, smoothing invisible creases. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
In the ensuing silence, she couldn’t resist a peek at him.
His eyes had turned speculative. “I suspect you didn’t enjoy being married, Althea.”
Her face heated. Montsimon had not been married off to the highest bidder when just out of the schoolroom. Men had extraordinary freedom to do exactly as they pleased. But after her aunt’s inference that she was naive, and Brookwood’s foul claims, his suggestion hurt. “You think me a prude?”
“No, I doubt you’ve enjoyed a man’s touch.” He smiled. “The right man can change that.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And the right man, would be…?”
“I’m available, should you wish it.”
Suddenly hot, she slipped her redingote from her shoulders. “The air becomes so humid when it rains.”
Montsimon’s gaze roamed over her figure from her half boots to her bonnet, pausing rather long at her chest, as if he undressed her with his eyes. “You’re very appealing in that ensemble. How wasted your beauty would be if you chose to shut yourself away from life,” he added with a wicked smile.
The suggestion that she was a prude hurt, but she would bear it if it kept him at a safe distance. She must never forget what he was, a notorious rake who had cut a swathe through many ladies of theton. In his dark gray greatcoat, tan-colored trousers hugging muscled thighs, he sprawled on the seat opposite, graceful but mercurial and unpredictable. He made her fear he might spring into action at the barest invitation. She was not about to give him one.
After sharing a bed with him without incident, she had been lulled into a false sense of security. Her heart hammered foolishly.Heavens!She was to spend days in his company. She pulled her redingote back over her shoulders and wrapped it around herself.
“Don’t put it on. I am enjoying looking at you. You’re a pretty woman, and it’s a wonderful way to eliminate the boredom of such a trip,” he drawled. “Although, I can suggest a better way.”
She had to fight her own battle of personal restraint as a vision flashed into her mind: her straddling his lap, her arms around his neck, her lips pressed to his tempting mouth. She took a long, steadying breath. “Oh? You’ve brought a pack of cards?” she asked, pleased at how nonchalant she sounded.
Montsimon chuckled. “No. Did you?”
“I did not. We might talk.”
“We can discuss where I am to stay once we reach our destination.”
“There’s a fine inn in the village.”
“That’s not very generous of you.”
It wasn’t. It was ungrateful and ill mannered. “Of course, you may stay at Owltree Manor,” she murmured, visualizing him in the spare bedchamber.
His eyes glowed with enjoyment. How annoying he was. Was she so transparent?
She cleared her throat. “Do you wish to search the house?”
“Any false panels? Hidden rooms?”
“I haven’t found any.”
“I’ll take a look. Men will keep watch of the house after we leave.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You have the men for such an endeavor?”
