KIDNAPPING IS EVEN MORE AWKWARD
Meanwhile, at the Comber townhouse in Bruton Street
Danielle’s gaze on Andrew didn’t waver, although it held a hint of suspicion upon hearing his agreement as to how long it would be before dinner was served. “I cannot spend the night here,” she said, although the hesitation in her voice suggested it wouldn’t be hard to change her mind. She was obviously impressed by the townhouse. Her gaze had settled on the majestic marble staircase and the split landing halfway up to the first floor. From there, two sets of stairs led to two different corridors.
“Of course not,” Andrew agreed, deciding it better he not share her father’s plan. She might leave in a huff, and then he’d never talk her into marrying him. “Come. We’ll take a tour of the house. Let’s start in the very front,” he suggested, leading her into a small room. Two windows looked out onto Bruton Street, their soft green velvet drapes pulled back in the center with tasseled tiebacks. White chiffon curtains hid the glass.
“A sitting room, do you suppose?” Danielle asked as her free hand skimmed over an escritoire. An Aubusson carpet covered the floor, looking as if it had never been walked upon. A couple of chintz upholstered chairs placed on either side of a small table were the room’s only other furnishings.
“Your own salon,” Andrew suggested as he led them out and into an adjacent room.
“Obviously the study,” Danielle remarked, remaining near the door while Andrew made the rounds of the oak-furnished room. Dark green drapes framed the only window behind the modest desk, and shelves stuffed with leather-bound books covered half the wall while a fireplace took up the rest.
“Looks like someone liked to play cards,” Andrew remarked as he studied a well-worn gaming table at the far end of the room.
Danielle’s attention was on the books that filled the shelves. She gingerly stepped into the room to peruse the titles. One shelf featured foil-stamped titles such as “Modern Farming,” “Horse Husbandry,” and “The Fruit Tree Handbook.” Another shelf contained a number of novels while another had her pulling a book out. She opened it on one arm and gasped when it fell open to the color plates located in the middle.
The same color plates Dahlia had shown her the week prior. She thumbed through the slick pages, her gaze darting to the illustrations of mostly naked bodies engaged in all manner of sexual relations.
“What is it?” Andrew asked as he joined her.
Danielle slammed the book shut. “Nothing,” she said as her face bloomed with color. She quickly slid the book back onto the shelf.
Andrew jerked back in response. When she avoided his gaze, he said, “Danny?” in a soft voice.
She rolled her eyes and huffed. “The reason Davy and I don’t wish to marry,” she murmured.
He winced before his attention went to the book she had opened. Pulling it out, he read the title on the spine and said, “Oh.” While Danielle pretended to admire an overstuffed wing chair, he flipped through the illustrations in the book. He couldn’t help how his own face reddened at seeing some of the positions depicted. “I would never do this to you,” he said, glancing up from one particularly embarrassing color plate to discover her leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her bosom.
“Which one?” She couldn’t help but wonder which illustration had him making such a claim.
He turned the book around so the color plate was aimed in her direction.
She rolled her eyes. “But you would do it with a mistress,” she countered.
Andrew furrowed a brow. “I don’t have a mistress, but even if I did, I... I would not do such a thing,” he said before turning the page. “Nor this one.” He continued to flip through the pages, his brows doing a dance between shock and careful consideration. After a moment, he moved toward Danielle.
Pressing herself more firmly against the wall, she gave him a suspicious glance. “What?”
“Come sit with me,” he encouraged as he settled on a leather sofa, the book opened on his lap.
Reminded of the leather sofa in the Carlington House library, Danielle frowned, but she pushed away from the wall and joined him. She was careful to leave plenty of space betwixt them, though.
He showed her the first plate in the book. “I would very much like to do this with you,” he said, indicating the missionary position, not bothering to add that it was the only one he knew. His limited experience had been with a tavern maid, and they’d had to be quick given she was the only server on staff that night.
Danielle glanced over at the drawing, her brows rising in apparent shock. “Like that? Completely... naked?” she asked in a whisper.
He hesitated before saying, “Not at first. But once we’re more comfortable with one another...” He turned to the next page. “What would you say to riding St. George?” he asked, reading the caption below the illustration.
Moving closer to look at the drawing, Danielle inhaled sharply but then seemed to think on her response before saying, “Maybe.”
Continuing to show her each color plate in turn, Andrew watched for her reaction before giving his own opinion. By the time they had finished perusing the color plates, their opinions varying between disgust, bewilderment, shock, and laughter, Danielle was sitting against him, and one of his arms had moved to rest behind her shoulder. He was about to kiss the side of her head when Parker appeared on the threshold.
As if he’d been caught in a compromising position, Andrew pulled his arm from behind Danielle and straightened. “Parker?”
“A tea tray has been delivered to the parlor, sir.”
Attempting an air of nonchalance, Danielle quickly stood and said, “I’ll see to serving, Parker.”
