She shook her head. What on earth had he just said? “Aye?”
“It’s late; you should be safe to sleep now.” He closed the book and uncrossed his legs. As he rose and approached the bed, her breath caught. He leaned over to place the book on the table beside her and he was mere inches from her. A frisson of energy crossed the space between and her heart skittered off rhythm.
His fingers flinched, ever so slightly, and for a moment she thought he would reach for her. Her head turned in his direction in anticipation; her tongue licked her lips as she waited for him to bend toward her.
But his hand fisted, and he cleared his throat as he stepped back.
Disappointment buried her. The brief escape from their current lives was gone. In the morning, he would once again be the Duke of Wildeforde, and she would be a working-class commoner, and their lives would be on different paths.
“Good night then,” she said. A silence stretched between them. Either of them could break it to address the tension that hung in the room like a mid-winter fog. Neither did.
He nodded, proper, gentlemanly, as though he wasn’t in her bedroom. “Good night. I’ll send one of the maids up in the morning.”
***
Edward had not slept well. He’d been tormented by vivid memories of Fiona, ones that had followed him for years.
The way she tasted, the way her body felt under his hands, the way she smelled, the slight mewling noise she made as they kissed. His cock went hard at the heat of the recollections.
Even once he had drifted into slumber, he couldn’t escape her. Memories became fantasies, where he did more than just press her to him and ravage her with kisses. In his dreams he crossed the line he had honored in life.
He undid each button of her dress, exposing her skin to his lips. He ran a trail of kisses down her spine as his hands reached around her to stroke her silk-soft skin. She arched, her hips pushing into his groin. As she dug her fingers into his back and called out his name, his body found sweet relief.
He woke to wet sheets and the smell of sex that made his cock stiffen. Instead of fading as his eyes opened, the visions of her trailed him through the day, accosting him every time his mind wandered.
Which made focusing on budgets terribly difficult. No sooner had he read to the end of one page then he would need to go back to the top and start reading all over again as the numbers escaped him. Her presence in his house was a cursed nuisance. He had things—pressing issues—to concentrate on. How could he devote his attention to his work and his search for a wife when she was there, infiltrating his thoughts, reminding him why he had been ready to upend his life in the first place?
The arrival of his sister was a welcome interruption from his lustful woolgathering.
“Char,” he said, holding his arms out as she stepped through the front door.
“Ned!” Charlotte-Rose threw herself into his arms, wrapping hers around him and squeezing tight. “I’ve missed you,” she said into his chest.
Edward dropped a kiss on the top of her head. It was good to have her home. He stepped back, cupping his hands around her shoulders to get a better look at her. She looked healthy, if perhaps a bit tired. There were shadows under her eyes and fatigue in her movements. Her clothing had deep creases, and strands of hair had escaped from her usually flawless coiffure.
“I wasn’t expecting you today. I thought you were arriving Friday.”
Charlotte unfastened her pelisse and handed it to Simmons. “The inn was full, so we rode through the night.”
“Did you tell them who you were? What inn was it? I’ll write to them.”
She rolled her eyes and unbuttoned her gloves. “I’m sure they would have found me rooms had Gunther mentioned my name, but they would have tossed someone out to do so. It’s no one else’s fault that I left for London earlier than expected and with no proper planning.”
“No wonder you look tired,” he said as he indicated to Mrs. Phillips for some tea. “You should have a bed, whether you’d sent ahead for one or not. I don’t like the thought of you sleeping in a coach.”
Charlotte yawned, patting his shoulder as she did so. “Relax, brother dear. I am perfectly well. There is no need to fret.”
Concern for his sister’s well-being was hardly fretting, but he let the aspersion pass. “Why don’t you head up to your rooms? I’ll have Mrs. Phillips send dinner with the tea.”
“Don’t be silly.” Charlotte threaded her arm around his and steered them in the direction of the yellow morning room. “I haven’t seen you in months. I want to know everything. How are you? How is William? Is he here?”
Edward gave a footman a nod, a signal to fetch William from his chum’s residence.
As they settled into the yellow room, Charlotte regaled him with stories of her semester at Barrow House School for Ladies. In truth, she didn’t need to attend. Her education had been flawless. She was fluent in four languages, played the piano, the harp, and the violin, was an adequate watercolorist, and at eighteen years old was proficient in every skill she needed in order to run her own household.
But the alternative to boarding school was to live with their mother, a fate he didn’t wish on anybody.
“I swear, Edward. Two weeks with that woman was enough to drive me batty. I don’t see why I couldn’t have come straight to London.”
