into a carriage.
Now, in Jeanne’s bed, David bent his head and rubbed the
aching spot between his brows. He must have been completely out of his senses.
Toovey was the one person he loathed with a visceral,
burning passion. The hate was reciprocated. All over the one thing the two men
shared: the memory of having loved Thérèse.
Lord Toovey, an impoverished but well-connected baron, was
also a leading figure on the opposite political side. It was well known that
David championed the cause of better regulation for insane asylums, and Toovey
would do anything he could to hurt David.
It was past time for him to return to his own world.
He arose from the bed, shaved with cold water, then found
his clothes where Jeanne had left them, folded neatly over a chair.
* * * *
Jeanne returned with the day’s food shopping. David stood
before her little mirror, fully dressed, and giving what looked to be the final
adjustments to his cravat.
She shut the door. At the soft click, he turned.
Bernard had often used the term “force of presence” to
describe a person. Looking at David in this moment, Jeanne knew exactly what he
meant. David’s expression was that of a stranger. Cool, slightly arrogant,
focused on whatever business he had out in the world. Power seemed to radiate
from him, so much so that instinctively, she took a step back and then another.
She felt that perhaps she ought to bend into a curtsy, but then again that
would be silly given their previous carnal frolicking.
She could also sense his urgency to be gone as if though
were a tangible thing.
Of course she was glad he was going. She looked forward to
having her peace and privacy restored.
“My man of business, Mr. Packer, will come and see you
soon.” Even his voice sounded different. The voice of a man who was aware of
every moment spent on trivialities.
“It is not necessary.” She reached into her pocket and
closed her hand around the bills he’d already given her, her percentage for the
landlady and repayment for the shaving articles and food. That she hadn’t
minded. Her funds were limited. But she wouldn’t take payment for doing what
had only been the humane thing to do. More than that, she wouldn’t become
obligated to a gentleman who then might feel he had the right to come and
disturb her privacy any time he felt lusty or despondent with life.
He stepped closer. His look became a shade more personal.
It was as though she was noticing his handsomeness for the
first time. She caught her breath.
He bent toward her, smelling of inexpensive shaving soap and
her clove toothpowder.
He kissed her mouth.
It wasn’t necessary for him to do that. They weren’t lovers
now. And it should have been a brief salutation. However, their lips seemed to
cling. Her mouth came open as if of its own accord. Their tongues caressed. The
taste of his was all spice, sparking in her blood like fire. Her hands slid up
his arms and gripped his shoulders.
He pulled his mouth from hers and stared down with a fierce
expression. “Damn.”
Then he put his hands to her back and with one jerk, slammed
her body to his. He brought his mouth on hers again, crushing her lips with his
own, running his tongue over the seam, demanding entry. She opened and he
thrust inside, sweeping her breath away. For long moments, she ardently
returned his tongue’s strokes, desperate to imprint his feel, his taste on her
senses.
He broke the kiss and put her from him. The suddenness left
her swaying, fuzzyheaded, and a little dizzy as she watched him turn and walk
to the door.
A moment later, her door closed and he was gone. Out of her
life forever.
Chapter Six
“Hold up, Hartley.”
David stopped and turned.
Toovey approached him, a grin on
his face.
While staring at that idiotic
smirk, David reminded himself that Toovey was not worth the price to his
reputation and standing in the House. The former Duke of Hartley, David’s
father, had been a hotheaded,
Now, in Jeanne’s bed, David bent his head and rubbed the
aching spot between his brows. He must have been completely out of his senses.
Toovey was the one person he loathed with a visceral,
burning passion. The hate was reciprocated. All over the one thing the two men
shared: the memory of having loved Thérèse.
Lord Toovey, an impoverished but well-connected baron, was
also a leading figure on the opposite political side. It was well known that
David championed the cause of better regulation for insane asylums, and Toovey
would do anything he could to hurt David.
It was past time for him to return to his own world.
He arose from the bed, shaved with cold water, then found
his clothes where Jeanne had left them, folded neatly over a chair.
* * * *
Jeanne returned with the day’s food shopping. David stood
before her little mirror, fully dressed, and giving what looked to be the final
adjustments to his cravat.
She shut the door. At the soft click, he turned.
Bernard had often used the term “force of presence” to
describe a person. Looking at David in this moment, Jeanne knew exactly what he
meant. David’s expression was that of a stranger. Cool, slightly arrogant,
focused on whatever business he had out in the world. Power seemed to radiate
from him, so much so that instinctively, she took a step back and then another.
She felt that perhaps she ought to bend into a curtsy, but then again that
would be silly given their previous carnal frolicking.
She could also sense his urgency to be gone as if though
were a tangible thing.
Of course she was glad he was going. She looked forward to
having her peace and privacy restored.
“My man of business, Mr. Packer, will come and see you
soon.” Even his voice sounded different. The voice of a man who was aware of
every moment spent on trivialities.
“It is not necessary.” She reached into her pocket and
closed her hand around the bills he’d already given her, her percentage for the
landlady and repayment for the shaving articles and food. That she hadn’t
minded. Her funds were limited. But she wouldn’t take payment for doing what
had only been the humane thing to do. More than that, she wouldn’t become
obligated to a gentleman who then might feel he had the right to come and
disturb her privacy any time he felt lusty or despondent with life.
He stepped closer. His look became a shade more personal.
It was as though she was noticing his handsomeness for the
first time. She caught her breath.
He bent toward her, smelling of inexpensive shaving soap and
her clove toothpowder.
He kissed her mouth.
It wasn’t necessary for him to do that. They weren’t lovers
now. And it should have been a brief salutation. However, their lips seemed to
cling. Her mouth came open as if of its own accord. Their tongues caressed. The
taste of his was all spice, sparking in her blood like fire. Her hands slid up
his arms and gripped his shoulders.
He pulled his mouth from hers and stared down with a fierce
expression. “Damn.”
Then he put his hands to her back and with one jerk, slammed
her body to his. He brought his mouth on hers again, crushing her lips with his
own, running his tongue over the seam, demanding entry. She opened and he
thrust inside, sweeping her breath away. For long moments, she ardently
returned his tongue’s strokes, desperate to imprint his feel, his taste on her
senses.
He broke the kiss and put her from him. The suddenness left
her swaying, fuzzyheaded, and a little dizzy as she watched him turn and walk
to the door.
A moment later, her door closed and he was gone. Out of her
life forever.
Chapter Six
“Hold up, Hartley.”
David stopped and turned.
Toovey approached him, a grin on
his face.
While staring at that idiotic
smirk, David reminded himself that Toovey was not worth the price to his
reputation and standing in the House. The former Duke of Hartley, David’s
father, had been a hotheaded,
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