Mrs. Grant took a deep breath and then reached for her wine, downing the entire contents.
“A little liquid courage,” she said.
“You are the bravest woman I have ever met,” James told her. “Only a handful of women could have taken on what you have and met with success.”
“But even women who are skilled in business have needs, Captain.”
The atmosphere in the room changed. He looked at her, wondering if she meant what he thought she did.
“I am sure you understand what I speak of,” she continued. “You have spent long stretches of time at sea. When your ship comes into port and you go on shore leave, I am sure you have taken care of … those needs.”
“I have,” he said carefully, wondering where this conversation was headed.
“Women, too, have certain needs,” she said. “As a widow, I have … a bit more freedom in seeing that mine are … met.” Clearing her throat, she said, “I am asking as delicately as possible if you might wish to explore those with me, Captain Jones. I do not expect any type of commitment from you. In fact, I do not want anything of the sort. You are here for a limited time, and then you will be gone. I am lonely. I stay busy with my company for long hours, but I long for some … physical companionship.”
She wet her lips nervously and gazed at him beseechingly. “Would that be a possibility?”
“I am flattered, Mrs. Grant,” James said, his thoughts swirling.
He had wanted her for more than a brief encounter or two. He wanted—needed—a wife.
And he could think of no more suitable woman than Mrs. Grant.
Pippa couldn’t believe she had actually winked at Lord Hopewell.
She had no idea why she had done so. While her family teased her of being impulsive, she had never done something so …
She was so baffled by her behavior, she couldn’t even think of a word to describe it.
Yet Lord Hopewell did seem interested in her. No, Seth. She liked the name. It suited him. And she was also interested in him. Like a woman would be interested in a man. Being around him had her insides doing all kinds of mad flips. She blinked, trying to focus on the task at hand.
Growing stern, Pippa instructed, “You must always focus when you are atop a horse. Any slight distraction, any wandering of your thoughts, and the horse might take off. Riding is serious business, Seth.”
“I understand,” he said. “Orion is quite large.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “A good seventeen hands.”
“I can feel the power in him, even if you and the groom said he has a gentle nature. I understand I am a beginner at all of this, Pippa. I promise to concentrate. On the horse. And not you.” He paused, his gaze intent. “At least for now.”
She grew hot at his words. Her core seemed to seize up, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe.
Do not lose your head, she warned herself.
August had no control over himself. He had spent years being a disciplined person. His father had a rigid standard which August had always tried to live up to.
Georgina Strong tempted him beyond all reason.
Still, he reined in the passion flowing within him and kept the kiss fairly chaste, holding her in place, his lips pressed firmly to hers. She felt stiff in his arms for a moment, taken by surprise by the sudden kiss. He believed it to be her first one, having come to know her, and decided if it would be the only one between them, it must be memorable—for both of them.
Slowly, he began brushing his lips back and forth against hers, feeling her body relax. He started a series of soft, gentle kisses, touching his lips to hers briefly. Breaking the kiss. Doing so again and again.
Her hands came to the lapels of his coat, and her fingers bunched the material, now holding him in place. He couldn’t help but smile against her mouth at her assertiveness.
August now let the kisses go for a longer period of time. Need began building within him, though, and he knew he must stop soon.
Before he lost his head.
Before he took too much from her.
Before he gave her his heart.
“You have another caller, Your Grace.”
“Oh, bother. Not another one,” Dinah complained. “I had anticipated a quiet teatime alone. Who could possibly want to interrupt it?”
“Captain Andrews, Your Grace. He arrived today and was calling on Their Graces. When I informed him they were at Shadowcrest, he asked to see you.”
She felt heat flood her cheeks. “Then please show him in, Powell. And have another teacup sent up if you would.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The butler and maid left the drawing room. Dinah took three slow, deep breaths before the butler returned, announcing, “Captain Andrews, Your Grace.”
She rose as he entered the room, looking tall, his face tanned from his days on the open waters. He came toward her, stopping, and bowed just as she had taught him to do.
“Your Grace,” he said in a low rumble, his dark brown eyes gleaming as he accepted her offered hand and kissed her bare fingers.
A ripple raced through her. Anticipation? Desire?
It didn’t matter. He was here. Now.
And she wanted him.
Still holding her hand, he said, “It is good to see you again, Your Grace. You look well.”
“You do, as well, Captain Andrews.”
She pulled on her hand gently, thinking he would release it.
He didn’t.
“Captain?” she asked, her brows arching.
He kissed her fingers again. “You do not know how I have longed to do that very thing,” he told her, his voice low and rough.
Dinah swallowed—and then committed to a course of action which might change her life.
“You do not know how I have yearned for you to do that—and more, Captain. Much, much more.”
Tempted by the Earl:
“I find I enjoy the company of women,” Lord Carroll said, his voice warm and seductive, despite them being in a drawing room full of others. “I hope you and I will be able to enjoy one another’s company during this house party, Miss Allegra.”
Now she understood why Lord Motley had been cool to this man. From his elegant dress and smooth talking, she realized that Lord Carroll was a rake. Why Aunt Dinah had invited such a rogue to this house party puzzled her, though. Yes, she and Lyric were eager to meet all kinds of people, but at the same time, it was understood that this house party would give them the advantage of getting to know a small group rather quickly. Rakes weren’t known for committing to any woman, much less offering marriage.
Allegra decided to call him out and be done with him.
“Have you always been a rake, my lord?” she asked softly, not wishing for the others to hear their conversation.
His eyes widened in surprise, but he recovered quickly. “Have you always been so bold in speaking your mind, Miss Allegra?” He paused. “Especially when speaking to a rake such as myself?
The Viscount’s Heart:
“It is no secret to anyone in Polite Society. I have sown quite a few wild oats, Miss Lyric. I think I have always been searching for something I never had. Something just outside my grasp. I was all about seeking thrills. Gambling and drinking with my friends. I never gave a thought about tomorrow.”
His grip tightened on her elbow. “Then I lost my uncle, whom I loved dearly. That filled me with new resolve. I determined to be a better earl—and a better man.”
The feelings rushing through her were new and exciting.
“I want to build a life with my viscountess. I wish to enjoy a friendship with her.”
His gaze bore into her, and Lyric felt as if he saw her soul laid bare before him.
“I searched this past Season for a bride on the Marriage Mart and found no one to my liking. You interest me a great deal, Miss Lyric. I would not be so foolish as to offer for you right now because I believe we must get to know one another better.” He smiled. “I would like to do that now by asking if I might kiss you.”
Lyric’s breath hitched. She gazed into his eyes, dark as melted chocolate, knowing her reply might change the course of her life.
“Yes, Lord Blankenship. I think we should kiss.”
Byron believed most women in Polite Society had no idea what was involved in running an estate. But the woman seated next to him apparently did because she thought it would be important to one day share those responsibilities with her husband.
He yearned to get to know her better. To talk with her. Kiss her. See if they were suited for a life together. Yet the shadow of his father loomed over the both of them, and Byron felt the pressing responsibility of seeing his father’s wishes of uniting the Balfour and Bowles families come to fruition. Yes, he was mightily attracted to Lady Mirella.
But his future lay with Jacinda Bowles.
Rising, he said, “Shall we return to the house, Lady Mirella?”
A shadow flickered across her face, the emotion unreadable to him, but he sensed her disappointment. He hid his own as he offered his arm to her.
“Thank you for showing me the gardens, my lord,” she said. “I will see you this evening at dinner.”
Byron watched her walk away, feeling a piece of him go with her. He cursed under his breath, wishing he didn’t feel the strong pull of obligation which his father had instilled in him.
Because in another life, he believed he might have found love with Lady Mirella Strong.
Scooping her spoon into her ice, she brought up a bite of chocolate to his mouth. A shot of lust shot through him as he opened his mouth, accepting it.
In that moment, it all mixed together. Chocolate. Desire.
And Lady Euphemia …
The sweetness melted in his mouth, but it did nothing to cool his ardor. He could not have this. This woman was Ada’s friend. He must look elsewhere—because this woman would only wed for love.
And Malcolm did not think he had any to give.
“Thank you, my lady,” he said brusquely as she returned her spoon to her bowl and dipped it into the ice again, bringing it to her mouth.
The thought of the spoon sliding across her tongue nearly did him in. He wanted his tongue stroking hers.
Malcolm cursed under his breath and then found Lady Euphemia gazing at him.
She giggled.
“Did you hear that?” he asked.
“I could be polite and tell you I did not, but having used that word a time or two myself, I recognized it right away.”
“You … have used it yourself?”
She shrugged. “It is a word my cousin Caleb has spoken upon occasion when he is frustrated. The last time I heard it, he and I were repairing a fence. We both used it,” she confided. “And it was called for, I assure you. That fence was as surly as they come.”
Malcolm could not believe she cursed. Or repaired fences. Or had lips which tempted him more than he could say.