He often thought of bedding her again before the wedding. Of dismissing his servants for an afternoon and sneaking her into his rooms. Of taking her for a long ride out into the country and finding an inn.
He knew if he were to undress her, be inside her again, make her climax again, the distance between them would be erased, and she would be his darling Caro once more.
He did not sense she would refuse him. When he snatched a few kisses from her when they were alone, she was always willing, even eager. But she followed his lead and whether his kisses were soft and brief and brushing or deep and toe-curling, she answered in kind. He touched her nowhere but on her face, her neck, her back.
Usually, she didn’t touch him at all but kept her arms at her side, as if she were afraid of doing something wrong. But sometimes, when they kissed, she would put her hands under the lapels of his tailcoat and rest them on his waistcoat-covered chest and he would remember how she had done the same in Sudbury when she had said she wanted him. Specifically him.
It was at those moments when Phineas had a very difficult time keeping himself from grabbing her and pulling her down onto the sofa.
“Oh, darling,” he would say to her instead. “So sweet, so lovely.” And then he would step away from her, reminding himself to be a friend to her.
Yes, he kept the regret he had felt after reading her letter firmly in the front of his mind and tucked away his licentious urges. Or at least he kept them tucked away until he was alone. After all, he was investing in a future that would have Caro in his bed every night for the rest of his life. A future he wanted more than anything.
Even though Phineas Edge had never been a man who thought much about the future.
And he still didn’t like to thinktoomuch about the future. He knew he did not have the money to get married, but in the extremely rare moments when he was plagued by doubt, he told himself if he delayed the wedding long enough to build up some funds or if he confessed his penury, Caro would be even more likely to break the engagement. Then some other gentleman, one who had more to offer than the Earl of Burchester, would swoop in and she would be lost to him, forever.
Yes, Phineas Edge grappled briefly with the notion that he was a selfish man. But only briefly. Because all men were selfish, weren’t they?
Thank goodness Edmund was less concerned with Phineas’ finances than he was with Phineas’ history as a libidinous rake. Phineas felt he could honestly assure his friend that his past was behind him and Lady Caroline Haskett would be the only woman in his life. Edmund had not asked any questions about Phineas’ means, and Phineas hoped to keep him in the dark as long as possible.
When Phineas saw Caro as a stranger rather than as his future wife, he would try to break through her remoteness by teasing her, making jokes and funny observations about their surroundings or what he had read in the newspapers that morning. She wouldn’t smile—he knew that was a lofty goal—but her shoulders would relax and she would turn toward him and he would see glimpses of the girl who had come into his bed in Sudbury.
He persisted in asking her questions that would not permit a simple nod or a shake of her head in answer. He bent all of his vast social skills toward getting her to talk. But sometimes, after an hour or two with him, he would sense some fatigue and he would realize he needed to let her be. So, he would ramble on, filling the space between them with his own chatter.
After one such episode during a stroll in Hyde Park, he offered to take Lady Lutton home in his carriage and he tried to question her about Caro.
“Am I overwhelming her, do you think?” he asked, hoping for some assurance as the carriage lurched over the rough cobblestones back to Lady Lutton’s humble rooms.
Lady Lutton shook her head. “No, Lord Burchester. I don’t think it’s fair to Lady Caroline for me to tell you my opinion of what passes between you or what I think she is feeling.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.”
Lady Lutton leaned forward. “However, if you wanted me to tell her something of your concerns, I will.”
That gave Phineas pause. Was there something that would be better coming from Lady Lutton rather than from him?
“I suppose,” he said slowly, “you could tell her I was worried I talk too much.”
But Lady Lutton did not come back to him with an answer. Caro did, the next day.
They were alone in the drawing room, sitting next to each other on the sofa. She reached and took his hand, the first time she had ever done so.
“No,” she said.
He looked at her long, tapering fingers interlaced with his and then looked up at her questioningly.
“N-no, you don’t t-talk too much, Phineath.”
He suddenly found he had moved over the foot of upholstery that separated them and he was pressed against her, his tongue in her mouth, his cock already aching. Just before he brought his hands to her breasts, he came to his senses and pulled away. He stood abruptly and crossed the room to the window.
“Good,” he said between deep breaths. “That’s good.”
“Y-yeth.” She sat up and straightened her skirts.
“I was worried you might tire of me.”
“N-no.”
