She’d visitLeBrecht’sand demand answers. Because if anyone knew where Milton was, Miss Li did.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Back in the rumbling carriage, Annabelle snuck looks at her new husband as he stole brief glances back. They had a long journey home, even with a fresh team of horses. And this time Annabelle traveled as a married woman, no longer the naïve maid she’d been.
Though technically she remained a virgin. Last night, Arthur Harris had illuminated her delightfully in certain regards yet kept her woefully in the dark about the rest, leaving her longing for more knowledge of the marriage bed.
She trained her eyes out the carriage window, fingers knotting her skirts. Her new husband was far too compelling, and she’d been very bad indeed last night. He’d allowed her to explore much of his intriguing, masculine form. If Lizzie were to discover what Annabelle had done with Arthur Harris, husband or not, her sister would surely die of shame.
“Shall I teach you a game, Bella?”
“Game?” She blinked. “Er, yes. I suppose I could use the … distraction.”
“I thought, perhaps, t’ continue yer education from last night.”
“In acarriage, Mr. Harris?”
He laughed. “I do not mean to ravish you.”
Heat rose to her cheeks.
“Though a well-timed wheel rut while makin’ love only?—”
“Mr. Harris!” she admonished.
He grinned. “I meant a friendly game o’ questions, Bella, whereby high card asks an’ low card answers, else players pay a forfeit.”
“What kind of forfeit?”
“What odds would y’ like t’ play for, wife?”
She liked how he’d started calling her his wife. “What does one usually forfeit?”
“Clothing, ma’am. Till not a stitch is left.”
Annabelle began to sweat beneath her dress.
“However, a kiss might do instead.” His grin broadened.
“Oh” was all she could muster.
“And only if low card should refuse t’ answer, o’ course. All questions, see, might further yer education.”
Safer play than in a shared bed. Perhaps she’d even learn a thing or two about Mr. Harris besides his uncanny ability to card trick and love make.
“Very well, Arthur, I agree to your game. What do you call it?”
“Y’ might know it as ‘Questions an’ Commands,’ but I prefer ‘Truth or Dare.’”
Elizabeth loudly rapped Li’s knocker,LeBrecht’ssign creaking stiffly in the wind above her head. She’d wanted to take her husband’s phaeton on her own again, but Milton’s stable master had refused, telling hermaster’s orders.Thus, she had been driven.
The door opened to Li herself wrapped in a burgundy banyan, her dark hair hanging like drapes about her shoulders. “Lady Milton, I should hope you have good reason to?—”
“Is he here?” Elizabeth demanded.
“Who, madam?”
“My husband.”
