Page 25 of The Luckiest Lady in London

He greeted her with utmost propriety. His hold on her hand, as he helped her into the carriage, was light and decorous. And when he came into the carriage, his trousers did not even remotely brush the edge of her skirts.

All the same, it took only one swift, unsmiling look from him for heat to sweep over her. She clutched Lady Balfour’s packet of books in her lap.

Lord Tenwhestle climbed in. The door closed behind him. Smoothly, the coach rolled away from the curb.

“I was just telling Miss Cantwell how grateful I was that you came to my rescue,” said Lord Tenwhestle to the man who had proposed to Louisa, except not marriage. “And how thrilled I was not to have to seek a hackney in this downpour.”

Louisa’s lover—the appellation shocked her, but how else was she to refer to him?—inclined his head graciously. “My privilege to be of assistance.”

My lover, she repeated the words to herself. They had not made love, but that was an insignificant detail, given that he had probed her mind, both erotically and otherwise. And she, though she had yet to be unclothed before him, had certainly laid bare a great many of her naked desires.

Traffic moved slowly. Lord Tenwhestle shouldered most of the small talk, some amusing incident of being lost in a similar downpour in the middle of Rome, while he was on his Grand Tour with his brother.

All of a sudden he exclaimed, “Goodness, I very nearly forgot! I am to meet my brother at his house in ten minutes—some business with the solicitor about a useless plot of land we’ve been trying to get rid of for ages.”

“If I’m not mistaken, Mr. Northmount lives on the next street?” asked Lord Wrenworth.

“That is correct. If I wasn’t just telling a story about us, I wouldn’t have remembered.”

Lord Wrenworth relayed new directions to his coachman. Minutes later, Lord Tenwhestle was inside his brother’s house and Lord Wrenworth and Louisa were headed toward Lady Balfour’s.

Louisa felt strangely self-conscious, not because she was alone with her unconsummated lover, but because the ploy on the part of her kin had been so ludicrously transparent. She was both immensely grateful for Lord Tenwhestle’s and Lady Balfour’s sincere and kindhearted efforts—and immensely embarrassed.

Especially since she had more or less confirmed to Lord Wrenworth that she was nothing of the sweet, innocent girl that a self-respecting man would take for a bride; she was in fact a nymphomaniac who did not mind being taken in public, if only he would take her at all.

She removed the books from her lap, set them beside her, and traced her thumb along the twine that had been used to wrap the package.

“Tell me about the telescope,” he said.

She looked up. “I thought I’d made it clear that is not something I will discuss.”

“Not something you will discuss unless you are already in bed with me,” he corrected her. “But that was for the reason you wanted the telescope. What I request is a description of the telescope itself.”

“Why?”

“Because it interests me.”

All at once she understood why she had not said yes two nights before. Why she continued to play this dangerous game.

She was afraid of losing him.

Once she became his mistress, once he was free to satisfy himself on her, it would be the beginning of the end. But as long as she resisted, as long as his lust simmered unfulfilled, there was a chance he would remain part of her life.

Perhaps he would write her risqué letters on a typewriter, unsigned so that they could not be traced back to him. Perhaps he would find a reason to buy a property near where she lived—and call on her once every two years or so, when he came by to inspect the property in person. Perhaps he would—

“What is the size of the aperture?” he asked.

She hesitated. Her carnal infatuation she could not hide, but could she bear to expose more of herself, to be even more naked before him?

“Six inches?” he continued his questioning.

“Nine and a half,” she heard herself responding.

“Focal length?”

“Twelve feet, four inches.”

He tented his hands. “No wonder you were unable to afford it. Earlier I thought you wanted one of those five-guinea telescopes. But you, Miss Cantwell, are ambitious.”