Emotion shone in his eyes. She raised her glass to him.
“To the least boring man I’ve ever met. I am so excited to see what the next several decades of your life have in store.”
“Bravo!” everyone shouted.
But she could barely hear them. Because she only had eyes for him, and the way he was looking at her.
As though none of it was pretend.
As though this night was the start of the rest of their lives.
Chapter 16
One could always trust an event devised by Constance Stonewell to be spectacular, but the sight inside the doors of Westmead House the following evening was so stunning that, for once, Apthorp could not even muster the cynicism to roll his eyes at the expense.
Huge, luxuriant blooms lined the walls from floor to ceiling in shades of white and cream. The scent of lilies wafted through the air like candlelight you could inhale. Sheer linen drapes dyed in pale shades of violet gave the room a dreamy atmosphere, and gold ropes dangled from the ceiling, inciting speculation as to what mysteries might be in store.
Constance was giving London something to remember her by.
It broke him.
Westmead waved and walked over.
“Go upstairs and wait for Constance in the drawing room. I will introduce the entertainment, and you will wait behind the curtains while the acrobats perform. After the finale I’ll raise the curtains, present you both to the room, and you will march down that staircase for the opening dance. Constance has arranged for an orchestra. And the release of ten thousand white rose petals. Naturally.”
He whistled. “How dramatic, Your Grace.”
Westmead rolled his eyes. “I know. But it’s what she wants. I may be becoming sentimental at the idea of you whisking her away.”
Apthorp could not answer him, because anything he might say would be the worst kind of lie. He clapped the duke on the back and marched up the stairs to console himself with Westmead’s excellent brandy while he waited.
It was an hour before Constance arrived, and by then he was ever so slightly tipsy. But not too tipsy to notice she was gorgeous.
Her hair was pinned up with pale pink lilies the exact shade of her lips. All that pink set off her bright blue eyes, which shone next to the long strands of sapphires dangling from her ears and coiled around her neck.
“It should be illegal to look like that,” he said.
She grinned at him. “You look rather illegal yourself, my lord.”
He took her hand. “So tonight’s our final act.”
She smiled. “Let’s make it a memorable one. The acrobats are nearly ready. Shall we take our place behind the curtains? We’ll have to stand there for a while, but I don’t want to distract them while they’re walking on wires.”
She led him to an alcove that had been fashioned from yards of draped linen behind the balustrade at the top of the grand staircase. Soft violet curtains drifted from the ceiling, strung with lilies and strands of gold wire. It looked like a cage for an angel’s songbird.
God, his wits were soppy. He’d overdone it on the brandy.
Outside Westmead rang a bell to catch the audience’s attention, welcoming the guests. The orchestra struck up, and the gasps of the crowd signaled that the acrobats had taken their positions.
“How long is their act?” he asked Constance.
“A quarter hour,” she said, taking a sip of champagne.
“What shall we do to pass the time?”
She smiled, a bit sadly. “A pity you never liked playing dice.”
“Oh, Constance,” he murmured. He pulled her to his chest and simply held her.
“It’s been fun, hasn’t it?” She smiled sadly. “We made a good pair after all.”
He hated the finality in her words.
He wanted to tell her that they need not part ways. To get down on his knees and beg her for one last chance.
But then he thought of Evesham, and he knew he could not ask her that.
Which made this no less painful. He held her tighter, letting her scent envelop him.
“Perhaps we could pass the time with one last lesson,” she murmured.
“What kind of lesson?”
“Perhaps you could teach me to kiss someone so that he will remember you forever.”
“Do you think I could ever, ever forget you?” he asked as he threaded his hands around her lower back and brought her toward him. He did not wait for a reply before he placed his mouth on hers.
The need to kiss her with delicacy—after all, in a few short minutes they must march down the stairs as though none of this had happened—made him feel every breath, every shudder, every gasp with perfect clarity.
“You make me overeager as a boy,” he said roughly into her hair. “My God. I’m shaking. You know that, don’t you? How badly I want you?”
She said nothing, only tightened her fingers around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. No doubt it was the brandy, but suddenly he wanted to tell her everything. For when would he have another chance?
“I always have, you know,” he said raggedly. “Ever since the first time I saw you, I thought you were the most captivating creature on earth.”
He dragged his hands up over her bodice, fierce. “I wanted to touch you. I wanted to know every single thing about you.”
I still do.
She made a small, tortured sound and he put his mouth to the hot, fragrant skin above her breasts.
“Prove it,” she whispered, taking his hands in hers.
“Sweet girl,” he murmured. “It’s too late.”
She gave him a look he had not seen in a week. A defiant, taunting look.
“No, it isn’t, Julian. We have at least fifteen minutes.”
“Darling girl.” He laughed into her neck to keep from crying.
She drew him back. “Let me touch you,” she said. “Just once. So I can dream of it.”
Before he could think, her hands fumbled at his breeches, and then they were on his flesh. Outside the curtains, he heard the orchestra play the end of the first movement. The performance must be well under way.
Constance took his erection in her hand and ran her fingers over the tip. His entire body shuddered.
“You’re softer than I imagined,” she said. “And larger. One wonders how you manage to walk.” She ran her hand up the shaft and gently squeezed.
“You mustn’t,” he groaned. “I won’t be able to recover.”
“What if I don’t want you to recover?” He could hear the arousal in her voice. “What if I want you to fall apart?”
God, it was tempting.
“Let me please you. Show me how. One more lesson.”
Her fingers gripped around him, untrained but instinctive.
“A little death before our closing act,” she whispered. “One final secret.”
He wanted it so badly, but it was every kind of wrong. “There isn’t enough time.”
She gripped him harder. “Are you certain? I find that with a bit of practice it doesn’t take me long at all. Especially since you gave me that very clever gift.”
He groaned in pure, desperate lust and closed his eyes and felt her fingers tracing over the crown of his cock, where she found a bit of wetness and smeared it with her thumb. He shuddered so violently she glanced up and grinned.