Page 20 of A Countess Never Tells

After sending off his note to the florist, Ash lay back in his tangled sheets, planning the rest of his day. Pity the tangles had resulted from nothing more exciting than his own thrashing about during the night. A restless sleeper unless he had company in bed with him—in which case he slept the sleep of the innocent—Ash had endured a particularly tormented night. Erotic dreams of Miss Tate and his unfulfilled lust for her luscious body had taken its toll on the bed linen, which had ended up knotted around his hips.

What he wouldn’t give to have this marriage business completed so that enticing young lady could be here in bed with him now. She’d done nothing but surprise him since he met her. Thinking about how she might surprise him in these sheets made him groan with longing as his member gave a great surge.

Deciding he needed to marry had done nothing to dampen his libido even as it had put an end to his amorous liaisons. It seemed he could not go about asking to marry decent young women if he was still engaged in his usual amorous activities. Not if he wanted a successful outcome. His deserved reputation as a debaucher of women had proved a monumental obstacle when he’d returned to England in search of a wife. As soon as he landed, he’d contacted the father of a young lady he’d had an interest in before his exile, confident that his honorable offer of marriage would be met with astonished acceptance. To his surprise and mortification, he’d been told in no uncertain terms that the young lady in question would never be allowed to marry a man as notorious as him. This sentiment had been repeated by each father he’d approached during his first week in London, prompting him to pause and reassess his current strategy.

Five refusals in a row persuaded him the better ploy might be to woo the lady first then make the offer to the father. That way he’d have the added weight of the lady’s preference to persuade her parent to agree to his suit. Unfortunately, even this altered plan had met with no success. Fathers simply didn’t wish their daughters to be connected to the likes of him and his lurid behavior. After being told this point blank by an irate gentleman whose daughter Ash had offered for only out of desperation, he’d decided he must at least try to correct his public persona. To that end, he’d publicly announced the cessation of his nightly trysts with the widows and courtesans with whom he usually amused himself, hoping to persuade the fathers of the ton of his sincere reformation. The result of this experiment had been extreme frustration, both mental and physical. If he didn’t get some relief soon—in the form of a wife in his bed—he might go mad.

Such thoughts led him right back to Miss Tate and her actions last evening that had encouraged him to place her at the top of his most desired list. Memories of her willingness to be thoroughly kissed at Vauxhall and her lovely, labored breathing when he whispered about fireworks and kisses played themselves over in his mind until he was grasping his cock and doing the next best thing—a poor substitute by any measure, but it would have to do for the time being.

Released from the grip of lust for the moment, Ash slid out of bed and padded to the washstand behind a silk screen painted with a scene of naked nymphs and satyrs after the painting by Reubens he was so fond of. The water Thompson had left for him earlier had cooled only a little, and Ash washed rapidly then rang for his valet.

“Yes, my lord?” Thompson arrived just as Ash finished toweling off. The valet laid another towel over the padded chair, and Ash sat.

“I’m going to my club and then to dinner with Lord Aldbury. I believe the pale blue will suffice for both.” Ash laid his head back, the signal for Thompson to begin the morning ritual of the shave. Leaving himself in the more than capable hands of his valet, Ash let his mind review the plans for the day.

A brisk walk to White’s would put him in the mood for a game of some sort, or possibly a wager. Afterward, he was dining with Aldbury to glean from him as much information about Miss Tate as he could. The lady was intriguing enough that he wanted to be forearmed about her next time they met. Could Aldbury know who had been the first to kiss her? The memory of his tongue in her mouth, her lips grasping his, sucking until he’d wanted to burst—

Damn. The remembrance was so vivid his unruly flesh had hardened again. Well, it was nothing Thompson hadn’t seen in his years as Ash’s valet. But Ash needed to watch himself. It could be uncomfortable should something like this occur while he was in public. Too bad the fashion of codpieces had gone out in the Renaissance. That piece of wardrobe would’ve served him well. Ash concentrated on Thompson’s sure strokes of the razor, counting them one by one until his body subsided.

No further mishaps occurred, and within the hour, Ash was walking briskly toward White’s when a flash of golden hair beneath a small stylish straw hat across the street caught his eye. When he turned to see who this delectable demoiselle might be, he stopped so suddenly the lady walking behind him bumped into him.

“I beg your pardon, madam.” The words were spoken perfunctorily as Ash’s full attention was riveted on the glorious sight of Miss Tate, strolling and laughing with a young woman he’d never seen before.

Ash’s heart gave an odd thump then he began to walk again, keeping pace with the pair who were traveling in the same direction as he. The smaller woman was likely her maid, and as Miss Tate had no other companion, save the strapping footman following the pair, Ash assumed the lady had decided to shop this afternoon.

Perhaps she would like some company.

Better to get the lay of the land first, however. If she seemed bound for the mantua maker, he’d continue to White’s. Nothing would be so boring as waiting while Miss Tate consulted with the dressmaker about fabrics and style. Unless he had input into the consultation, it simply wouldn’t be worth his time. Even worse if she were there for fittings—unless he could watch. Ash grinned at the idea of proposing that. So he continued down his side of the street, keeping an eye out for where the lady chose to stop.

At last, Ash was rewarded when Miss Tate slowed outside a milliner’s shop. Was the damsel in the market for a new bonnet? After a moment, however, she went on her way. A true shopping trip then, where the lady would undoubtedly wander past shop after shop, gazing at all manner of goods, in no rush to obtain her purchases. This encounter could be a lot of fun then.

Checking the street traffic both ways, Ash picked his way across the thoroughfare, careful to avoid the worst of the horse manure. He fetched up on the opposite sidewalk a good way behind Miss Tate and hurried his pace in order to catch them up. At last, they stopped in front of a jewelers to admire the glittering display in the window.

“Are you contemplating the ruby earrings or the gold filigree necklace, Miss Tate?” He’d sneaked up behind her and was gratified when he made her jump.

“Oh, Lord Ashwood.” She curtsied, her cheeks suddenly pink. They came close to matching her pretty gown of delicate pink-and-white stripes with lace around the sleeves. The bodice drew his attention particularly as it was bejeweled and fashionably low cut, her breasts in the perfect “rising moon” position. “Good afternoon, my lord.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Tate.” He bowed, tickled that she now looked more than a little flustered. “I would say the rubies, myself. They would look magnificent in your lovely earlobes.”

Her blush deepened. “Thank you, my lord. However, I am only looking today. I very rarely shop for jewelry.” Miss Tate smiled, her eyes mischievous. “I’m hoping my future husband will buy some for me. Oh, and thank you for the beautiful roses. That was kind of you. They were a thoughtful gift.”

“I was thinking of you just this morning, Miss Tate.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, the image of her naked in his bed arose before him, his cock unfortunately following suit. Damn.

“I am touched that you remembered me.” A brilliant smile lit her face, brightening her eyes to almost azure and highlighting the hopeful look in them. “I enjoyed our time together last night at Vauxhall. It was rather…enlightening.”

Dear lord, the woman was torturing him. His cock swelled at every word she uttered in her low-pitched, sensual voice. Perhaps if they walked on, the issue down below would subside. “Are you merely looking today or is there a particular shop you wish to visit?”

“Oh, yes.” She nodded eagerly. “To the haberdasher and then to the bookseller.”

“May I accompany you, then? You have only your maid and footman, and I am certain you know how easily young ladies may be accosted by footpads and rakes.”

A peal of laughter ensued, followed by a sigh. “Thank you, my lord. I would be happy for the company. My sister-in-law was to come with me, but she is much taken up with her daughter today. She and John managed to rescue the child just before we joined you at Vauxhall last evening. I hated to take her away from Anna today, so I offered to come by myself.”

“How extraordinary. By Lady Haxby’s countenance last evening, I never knew a thing had happened. Can you tell me what transpired?”

Once Miss Tate launched into her tale, Ash was able to concentrate on the words rather than the sensual voice, and his arousal slowly subsided. The story was singular indeed, and by the time she finished, they had arrived at the haberdasher.

“I should not be long here, my lord. I need gloves and some new ribbons for Lady Braeton’s ball.” Her eyes sparkled, and Ash swallowed hard. “Will you wait or come in?”