Once he finished putting her to rights, Theodore gave Lauren a crooked smile.
“I’m afraid there is no way to hide the stain.”
Glancing down, Lauren saw the slight discoloration on her dress caused by the lemon ice. Only then did she register the faint dampness seeping through the fabric. “Oh. That’s unfortunate.”
She still trembled from the pleasure he’d given her, little tremors rippling up and outward from her sex to the ends of her toes and fingertips. To her own ears, she sounded drugged, her voice slow and husky.
A sinful glimmer danced in Theodore’s eyes when they settled on her bosom. “I wasn’t thinking clearly before…”
Lauren’s gaze was helplessly drawn to Theodore’s firm, plush lips. Just moments ago, those lips were on my breasts. His mouth was on mine. His hand was beneath my skirts, and he was…
“Lauren.” Theodore snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Go on to your room. Tell the maid you spilled your dessert if she asks, and if she doesn’t ask, then all the better.” Kissing her softly, he released her with a chuckle. “I’ll renew my assault tomorrow, and you can continue fighting my efforts if you like.”
Pulling the alcove curtain back, he checked the corridor for unwanted visitors. “Based on your actions earlier, I don’t doubt you will still resist.” He allowed Lauren to slip past, calling after her in a lowered voice as she hurried away, “But should I catch you standing in a chair again, you won’t like the consequences.”
Lauren entered her room almost as if in a trance. She didn’t even see Anne until she rose from a chair near the fireplace. The maid was waiting for her.
“Here, milady.” Anne began unlacing Lauren’s gown, clucking with disapproval when she spied the stain on the bodice. “I hope it’s not ruined.”
“Perhaps it’s not.” Lauren sighed as the maid pulled the dress over her head in a flounce of satin and ruffles and then helped her out of the corset. A nightgown of soft muslin encompassed her body next, the ribbons at the neck made of silk. Lauren tied those herself then sat at the maple vanity table. She watched Anne in the mirror draw pins from the coiled mass of her gold-sparked brown hair, the intricate design allowed to unwind in a shimmering waterfall down her back.
She groaned in relief as the pressure from the hairstyle eased. Anne began pulling a boar-bristle brush through the straight locks, from crown to the ends landing just above the nip of her waist.
The rhythmic tugging was relaxing, to the point Lauren put aside the incident with Theodore. For a few moments, at least.
“How is Ollie? Is he feeling better?”
“Oh, yes, milady. Asking for something to eat other than broth.” Anne hummed a tune beneath her breath as she worked. “He should be up and about tomorrow or the next, I think.”
“That’s wonderful news.” Silence loomed. Lauren picked at the blue forget me knot flowers stitched on the nightgown’s sleeves. “Anne, may I ask you a question?”
“Surely, milady.”
“Which room does Lord Hawthorne occupy?”
The motion of the brush stilled then began again. Lauren knew she’d shocked Anne, but it couldn’t be helped.
“It is down the corridor, milady.”
“But do you know precisely the room?” Lauren nudged.
Anne frowned. “You can’t mean to go to him, milady. You might be seen… and your reputation would be ruined.”
Lauren’s lips pressed together. She’d not made up her mind when it came to Theodore Hawthorne. She only knew an odd restlessness flowed through her blood, irritating her with its presence. It calmed when the earl was around, but that in itself was maddening because his very appearance agitated her senses. She wanted to both slap him and kiss him, and she hated herself for the conflict.
“I don’t know what I mean to do. But when I decide, will you help me?” Lauren caught Anne’s hand, holding it against her shoulder, trapping the young woman’s eyes in the mirror’s reflection. “When the time comes, Anne, will you do as I ask? Please. As my friend, and not as my employee. In return, I vow I will help you and Ollie in any way necessary. If you wish to marry or acquire your own cottage, I can—”
Anne laughed softly, patting Lauren’s hand with her own. “Here now, milady. There’s no need for all that. Of course, I will help you. I always will. It doesn’t matter much what you might do for me, or for Ollie. I’ll do it because you are a kind, decent person. You deserve happiness, milady, and if it is with Lord Hawthorne, all the better. That man is right bonny to look at.”
Chapter 10
Theodore spent yet another restless night tormented by visions of his skittish fiancée’.
For Christ’s sake, he’d not had a decent night’s sleep since the day he’d laid eyes on the little vixen he’d soon claim for a wife. While engaged, he’d fantasized of the day she would become his. During their estrangement, he’d dreamed and plotted on winning her back. Now he faced the difficult challenge of making it happen.
It all culminated in what could only be described as agitated slumber.
Why Lauren allowed him those liberties in the alcove was a mystery he could not unravel. How her flesh possessed a flavor sweeter than sugar was even more mystifying. The urge to sink to his knees, lift her skirts, and place his mouth between her thighs had nearly overwhelmed him. He wanted the taste of her in his mouth, on his tongue, in his blood. Only the knowledge he might frighten her with such boldness kept him from plundering her treasures like a starving pirate long lost at sea.
It was nearly noon before Theodore emerged from his room, exhausted and irritable from lack of sleep. Making his way downstairs, he yawned, cursing for not having his valet ring for more coffee. Another cup or two might have erased his ill mood.
Near the rear of the manor home was the largest drawing room. It overlooked the west gardens, and for this morning, it was the gathering spot for Lady Penelope and the other ladies. Their laughter and feminine voices drew Theodore like a moth to flame, for he knew with a certainty he’d find his prey among the lovely flowers assembled there.
Peeking around the door jamb, he saw Penelope presiding over several small tables around which ladies congregated. They were studiously engaged in the construction of delicate cones made from swatches of wallpaper. His gaze skipped over the women until he located the one he sought.
The most gorgeous rose in the garden.
“She is stunning,” George Settleton said from just behind him.
Theodore gave Lauren a lingering glance then turned to his host. “That she is. As is your own lovely wife.”
George grinned and clapped a hand on Theodore’s shoulder, drawing him away from the door. “Both are beautiful and too damn smart for their own good. A word of warning, Hawthorne, you may notice decorations have been depleted in certain areas of the manor.”
Theodore tilted his head, genuinely confused. “What the devil are you talking about?”
“The, ah, kissing balls you talked Penelope into hanging everywhere. I know she was to keep your arrangement a secret; however, I insisted she tell me what the hell was going on. The blasted stuff is all over the place.”