It made him wonder if Miss Browning had chosen the book simply to throw him off. He could not imagine the woman who enjoyed her gothics and romances to be the same woman who would enjoy this kind of material.
Then again, she sat across from him at that very moment, positively engrossed by the Leonard Braithwaite book in her hands. Therefore, Sebastian supposed that his future wife was merely more dynamic than he had presumed. It was good, in a way; conversation would never be lacking. At least, not once she decided that she would speak to him at all.
Upon struggling through a particularly dense page, Sebastian decided that it was high time to end their standoff.
“Chocolate?” he asked, setting the book aside and grabbing the small box of truffles.
It took a moment for her to remove herself from her book, denoted by several slow blinks as she brought her eyes to Sebastian’s.
“I am sorry, my lord?”
He gestured toward the box. “Your chocolates? Would you like one?”
“Oh, yes, thank you.”
He slid the lid off, displaying the contents to her. “Which one would you like?”
She eyed the box before returning her gaze to him. “Pick one for me. I chose your reading material, therefore you may choose mychocolate.”
She spoke of it in the pragmatic way that one might speak of a business deal. And yet, as Sebastian looked upon each of the chocolates in search of the one he might give her, there was something deeply intimate about it.
He plucked one out and held it out to her. Again, those long, delicate fingers made an appearance, brushing against his hand as she took the chocolate and brought it up to her lips. His eyes followed the movement. As she bit into the chocolate, her tongue slipping out briefly to capture the bits of the morsel that had fallen upon her lips, Sebastian swallowed.
What was she like, beneath all of those layers? Not merely her clothes, but the other layers she had surrounded herself with, as well - the frowning, the politeness. He wondered what she might be like with him between her legs. If her eyes would close in pleasure. If she would struggle to stay guarded.
“Is there something on my face?”
Her words broke the spell. Sebastian returned to the moment to find her staring at him in confusion.
“Oh, yes, actually.” It was true; on her bottom lip, a small smear of chocolate had been left behind.
She reached up to her lips to dab, but missed it entirely.
He knew he ought not to. But this was a seduction, and he did not intend to play fair. Besides, the opportunity had simply dropped into his lap, “Let me…”
Before either of them could stop his hand, he reached up and brushed the bit of chocolate from her lip. How soft it was beneath his thumb, how positively inviting. How he wished to press his own lips to hers, to know what lovely, discomposed sounds she might make.
He did not have to wonder for too long. At his touch, she inhaled sharply, her eyes widening in surprise and her body tensing.
A beat, then two, and she pulled away, blinking and looking around as if worried that someone might have seen them.
“I am worried it might rain,” she said stiffly, not offering up a single glance to the clear blue sky above. “We ought to return.”
“Yes, of course,” he said, finding it difficult to hide his disappointment. But, despite how much he wanted to, he could not ravish her here in Hyde Park. “May I call on you again tomorrow?”
This time, she hesitated before nodding. Instead of reticence, however, he saw a kind of longing in her eyes when she finally said, “Yes. If you insist.”
Chapter Nine
The next morning, Augusta accompanied her brother at the breakfast table.
She had never been one for breakfast. She enjoyed a strong black tea alone in her room, where she could study in peace without fear of callers interrupting.
Today, though, she needed an opening for discussion. There was no better way to accost Reginald than when he was still groggy from sleep and had not yet finished his tea.
She had spent a better part of the night before thinking about her encounter in the park with Lord Brightwater. It had been too much, all at once. It had been frightening. She did not need to be frightened, not right now, and not by the likes of that man - the one who made her feel far too much when his thumb had merely grazed her lips.
It was obscene. No one ought to be allowed to feel things like that. And so, she overtook her brother that morning with complete clearness of mind and only one goal.
