Alexandra hadn’t expected to sleep much, given the evening’s tumult.
But once she’d gotten into her night rail and crawled beneath her blankets, she didn’t open her eyes again until morning. Ecstasy, it seemed, could wear a girl out.
Last night had also been, she realized, akin to a fever finally breaking.
She was awake and dressed before the maids brought in their coffee and scones. She parted the curtains. If she stood on her toes, she could just barely see the sun glinting off the sea and the tall spires of ships. And if she looked off to the left, she could see a man urinating on the adjacent building. Such was life at the docks. She rather liked the contrast. As it turned out, joy and earthy pleasure and chaos suited her. Like a donkey race.
Like sex on the floor with her estranged husband.
She had no time to consider the aftermath, however, because a motion snagged the corner of her eyes. She pivoted to find Magnus dressed completely, snowy cravat and Hoby boots polished to mirror brilliance and all, emerging from his room.
He halted when he saw her.
She inspected him for signs of regret, or wariness, and his somber, somewhat uncertain expression suggested he was inspecting her for the same.
She found neither.
Nor did he appear to be gloating.
Then his mouth tilted at the corner in a faint smile. He settled in at the little table near the window, and she sat down across from him.
He poured a cup of coffee for her and pushed the sugar over.
Neither one of them had yet said a word. The magical bitter black elixir would no doubt make conversation more possible in a moment or two.
She looked across at the Earl of Montcroix and vividly recalled his eyes burning down into hers, as he hurled aside his miles of shirt and steered his cock into her body, and a fresh wash of lust bolted through her like a gulp of coffee. She fumbled with her napkin.
“I’ll be out all day today, I’m afraid,” he told her. “More long meetings and affairs of state to attend to. I’m to meet with officers of the king to discuss properties associated with the title.”
“How wonderful, Magnus,” she said pleasantly. “Or Montcroix, whatever you prefer to be called.”
He smiled faintly. “Whatever trips most lightly off your tongue.”
She was going to blush again, because tongues made her think of the taste of him.
“I thought I’d spend some time today at the town house to officially say goodbye to the servants and to help supervise the packing of my possessions,” she said offhandedly.
After a somewhat lengthy hesitation, he nodded.
“I’ve also a meeting regarding the timing of the Grosvenor Square town house purchase,” he volunteered.
The underpinning of their relationship now seemed to be quiet, civil little gauntlets thrown down.
“I’ll make the carriage available to you,” he added. “I’ll take the hack downtown.”
“That won’t be necessary, Magnus, but thank you. I can take a hack to the town house. I can afford it. I have all my Shillelagh winnings, after all.”
He nodded once, acknowledging the little jest that wasn’t entirely a jest.
“My carriage is safer. Please take the carriage.”
Mycarriage, she thought. As if the two of them were not really an entity anywhere apart from public appearances, and never would be. Soon, there would be no “our” of any kind.
But there was a slight emphasis on “please.” She understood that this was a man who wanted to care, who’d long wanted an opportunity to care, and he specifically wanted to take care of her. What harm would there be in allowing him to do that for now?
“Very well. I’ll take the carriage, thank you.”
Her breath hitched when he suddenly leanedtoward her, his eyes flaring. His thumb traced her jaw lightly.
