“Does that mean you’re still willing to have her chaperone you?”
Lady Lutton already knew the secret Caroline wanted to keep from Phineas. She would either tell him or she wouldn’t. But now, Caroline was inclined to believe Lady Lutton wouldn’t, and she wanted to trust her. She was the first woman in London Caroline had met apart from the servants. She could already see Lady Lutton as Lady Sudbury someday. A sister for Caroline, a wife for her brother.
But Caroline didn’t trust Phineas. Phineas would ask Lady Lutton questions. Phineas was a rogue and a rake and was used to getting what he wanted. She would have to hope Lady Lutton could be strong and resist him. And that Caroline could devise a way to get Phineas to confine himself to his other women. To leave her alone until he lost interest, as he inevitably would.
“I am willing,” she said.
“Good.” Edmund’s tone was one of relief. But maybe not solely because his sister still had a chaperone, but because he wanted an excuse to see Amanda?
“Doyoulike Lady Lut-t-ton?” she asked.
Her brother gave her a quizzical look. “What? Er, yes. I wouldn’t have you chaperoned by someone I didn’t like.”
It was not the rapturous answer she had hoped for, but it was a start.
Thirteen
“Iam very apologetic, A-m–m-manda, for not believing you.”
Lady Lutton smiled uncertainly. “I accept your apology. I quite see how you might have come to the wrong conclusion. I’m so glad your brother was able to clear up our misunderstanding. Where shall we go today?”
“Maybe to buy a book or two?”
“Wonderful. Do you know which bookseller’s you would like to go to?”
“No.”
“Shall we go to Hatchards? We can walk. If you find yourself making a large purchase, they will deliver it back to the house.”
Caroline nodded. “Thank you.”
A half an hour later, she was on the highest floor of surely the most wonderful shop in the world, having wandered away from Lady Lutton who was two floors down, thumbing throughPoems, In Two Volumesafter Caroline had said Lady Lutton might like Wordsworth.
As for Caroline, she was lost in the bliss of having so many books to look at and the luxurious feeling of not needing to make a choice. She might buy one book today, but she could come back tomorrow and buy another. It was delightful.
She was browsing spines, not paying attention, when an arm suddenly curled around her waist. Before she could cry out, she was pulled into a dark nook where the edge of a large bookcase shielded the corner from the gaze of anyone who might come into the room.
She had thought she was alone.
She experienced two seconds of panic as she was backed into a wall by a sturdy force until she heard “Darling, you did say you didn’t want me to be good,” and she started to throb from his voice alone.
Then her nostrils were flooded with the enticing smell of Phineas’ body. That bewitching male scent he had, the smell that had lingered on his shirt she had taken from his room. The shirt she had held to her face as she had touched herself for weeks afterwards until she had finally been forced to admit the shirt now smelled more of her own body than of his.
She was going to have to figure out a way to get rid of that shirt she had brought from Sudbury to London. It had been stupid to keep it so long.
Buthewas here now. The real article. The body that made that scent. He had both her wrists pinned to the wall on either side of her and he was pressing into her.
He whispered, “Phin has to make sure this is what you meant, darling. When you said you didn’t want me to be good? Is it?”
No, it wasn’t. She had meant she wanted him to stay a rogue and stay away from her. He was not for the likes of her. She knew her place. She had accepted her fate. Now he needed to let her alone and not torture her.
Because his torture was the most exquisite agony she had ever known.
She could feel his rigid length against her through their clothing. His warm breath was in her face. His scent surrounded her.
There was a moment ofI can’tandI shouldn’tand then she banished her reason and allowed desire to overtake her.Just once more. She leaned down and brushed her mouth against those lips she could barely see. Those full, dangerous lips.
But his tender kiss back to her did not match what was happening below his waist. His cock was demanding, rubbing against her, causing her to ache and to dampen. But his kiss was sweet. Delicate. An innocent kiss. There was no ravishing of her mouth with his tongue.
