Chapter Twenty-One
With the taste of her kiss still on his lips, Stephen accompanied Bridget back inside the party. The perils of mixing business with pleasure threatened to addle his mind. It was impossible to think about the job at hand when his lust-starved body was gently thrumming with need. Need for Bridget.
“I suggest we split up and observe the goings-on this evening from different vantage points. As a couple, I think we create too much interest,” he said.
A beautiful widow and one of theton’savowed bachelors being seen together was always going to raise an eyebrow or two. Under other circumstances Stephen might not have minded, but tonight he wanted to be the one doing the watching.
“I don’t want Lionel Hosey seeing us and beginning to wonder about our connection. We arrived together, but we should spend as much time as we can apart.”
Bridget nodded her agreement. “Yes, we must avoid giving him any cause for concern. I shall take a seat over in the far corner. As I am just reentering society, people will expect me to be circumspect and not dance.”
A flash of anger hit him.
What right does society have in making a woman submit to such a long period of mourning, especially over a man who made a point of humiliating her in public.
The idea of Bridget sitting neglected and alone was wrong. She was the sort of woman who should be center stage and shining. If she was his, he would never allow her to hide her light.
If she was mine?
His gaze remained fixed on Bridget as she walked away. They had kissed twice now. He yearned to set his lips all over her naked body. Desire for her simmered beneath his skin. Stephen took a long, slow breath in, doing his best to calm his burning primal urges.
When his gaze fell on Lionel Hosey, he almost sighed with relief. Dealing with the blackmailer was a welcome distraction from his growing obsession with Bridget.
Time to go to work.
With a glass of brandy in hand, Stephen slowly made his way around the room. When he passed the spot where Bridget was seated, he gave the barest of nods in her direction. Anyone who happened to see them would think nothing of it.
Finally, he settled in the spot he had chosen the moment he and Bridget had arrived. A comfortable sofa against the wall, partly occupied by a snoozing, aged dowager. It was the perfect place to not only watch the card games and their players, but also those guests who were merely spectators.
To his left was a cluster of chairs. Seated on the one closest to him was his prey. Lionel Hosey.
It didn’t take long for Stephen’s interest in the gentleman to reach fever pitch. While the other guests drank and happily chatted while watching the game, Lionel’s focus was firmly on the cards and the players.
When Lionel slipped a notebook out of his jacket pocket, Stephen sat forward. The sketch artist jotted down a few words before putting the book away.
Sly dog. I wonder what you are writing in your little book.
This ritual continued for some time. While Lionel watched the players, and occasionally took notes, Stephen kept a weathered eye on him.
I bet you are looking for your next victim. Someone else who you can blackmail.
He doubted that Lady Linton was the only target of Lionel Hosey’s moneymaking scheme. Gambling was rife within theton,with fortunes regularly won and lost. Bridget’s mother would most certainly not be alone in her miscounting of the cards. The field was wide open for anyone who had in mind to seek payment for their silence.
The old lady next to Stephen on the sofa stirred from her sleep. She stared at him. “Good evening,” he said.
“If I had known that falling asleep was all it took to get a giant, handsome specimen such as yourself to keep my company, I would have started snoozing at parties long ago,” she said.
Stephen got to his feet. He bowed to the dowager. “Someone has to look after Sleeping Beauty, but I am afraid I am not the prince whose kiss you seek. I am still a frog bound by enchantment.”
She wagged a finger in his direction. “Ah, so it is you who needs the kiss of a fair lady to save him.”
He chuckled softly.
It would take more than a simple kiss to break the curse.
Across the room, he caught Bridget’s eye and pointed in the direction of the garden. She followed him outside.
Away from the other guests, they huddled in close.
