Adeline’s lips pressed together. “Thank you for the kind invitation. I shall see you tomorrow.”
He handed her into the carriage. “Until then.” When he’d torture himself watching her lick the final bit of ice cream from her spoon.
Chapter Fourteen
Crispin fought to keep his polite mask in place as Lady Adeline joined the set with Lord Littleton.
Damn Littleton! How did he always end up with the supper dance?
Well, he wouldn’t get it for tomorrow’s ball. Crispin would write to Lady Adeline this evening, when he returned home, requesting the set, and have the invitation delivered first thing in the morning. Unless his lordship had already secured the dance. If so, there was nothing he could do about it but ask for the supper dance at the next ball. Yes. That was exactly what he’d do. He would also ask for the opportunity to take her for a carriage ride.
This was turning into much more work than Crispin had originally planned when he chose Lady Adeline. Leaning against a column, he surveyed the room. He could choose another one. There were enough ladies out, and some of them met his qualifications. But he’d already made up his mind to wed Lady Adeline, and there was no good reason to steer away from his course. From what he had heard, she was upset with Littleton because of something he’d done last Season. That should work in Crispin’s favor. He’d simply have to be more persistent in pursuing her. By her reactions to him this evening, it would not be long before he could propose.
He caught a lady he’d been introduced to by the name of Miss Hanson giving him a speculative look. She was clearly on the hunt for a title. The lady was much more beautiful than Lady Adeline, but although her mother’s birth was respectable, her father was a Cit, and that wouldn’t do for him at all.
The Earl of Lytton approached Miss Hanson, bowed, and led her to the dance floor. Was he in need of funds? That was the only reason Crispin could see for his lordship to be interested in her. He was too high in the instep to pay attention to her otherwise.
“I am finding this ball vastly boring.” Lady Holloway opened her fan, covering lips that owed more to cosmetics than nature. Her bodice revealed a large expanse of snow-white skin and plump breasts. It was a pity it was not nearly as low as what the ladies in Paris wore, but this was England.
Crispin had to agree. He’d met her ladyship the other evening at a card party and was pleased by his perspicacity in deciding to arrange to lease a small town house. His father’s house was not nearly private enough for all Crispin’s doings. Not only that, but few ladies wanted to engage in trysts at their own homes. Even the widows were cautious. “Can I interest you in another activity?”
She blinked slowly, her dark, thick lashes fanning out against her cheeks. Her tongue peeked out and licked her bottom lip, causing his cock to harden. Ever since Sarah had stopped allowing his visits, he’d been as randy as a goat.
She glanced at his breeches, and, unsurprisingly, his erection became more noticeable. At least he was wearing breeches and not pantaloons. “That rather depends on what type of entertainment you are offering.”
He lifted his gaze from her bosom and caught her eyes. “Come with me and find out. I am sure you’ll enjoy yourself.”
“Hmmm.” The witch dropped her eyes again, and he could almost feel her mouth on him. “Yes. I believe I will. Meet me outside. I have the red town coach. You can enter on the opposite side from the door.”
How was it that Crispin had never noticed how dic-tative Englishwomen could be on their home territory? It was not like that in France. Here discretion ruled their lives. No wonder so many gentlemen frequented brothels or kept at least one mistress. “Are you not worried your coachman will talk?”
“I pay him well.” She raised one brow. “If he wishes to keep his position, he will keep where I go to himself.” Lady Holloway trailed her closed fan along his arm and left.
This night would not be a loss after all.
In anticipation of finding an amorous partner, he’d sent his carriage home. He didn’t want any of his father’s servants to know about the house he’d hired. Crispin waited for a while before making his way into the hall and out onto the pavement. The door closed on a small red town coach. He strolled to the other side and opened the door. “Do you want to give the address or shall I?”
She settled her skirts, taking time in answering him. “I will.” Crispin gave her an address on Savile Row, and she knocked on the roof of the carriage and gave it to her coachman. Once the coach started forward, she said, “I do not think I have ever been there.”
“The street is filled with a great many military men and their families, as well as some shops.” She smoothed her skirts again, confusing him. She had appeared so confident before. “You do not have to worry about being seen. We can go in through the back if you wish.”
“Thank you.” Lady Holloway chuckled lightly. “I suppose I should admit that I have never done this before. I am recently out of mourning for my husband and have decided to live my life to please myself instead of my husband or family.”
That was a story he’d heard many times before. “Will you remarry?”
She flashed him what might have been a grin. Or a grimace. It was too dark to tell. “If I do, it will not be anytime soon. I want to enjoy myself for a while.”
“As do I.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Tonight, we will take it slowly and learn what the other likes.” Many ladies in her position were surprisingly ignorant of the finer points of amorous congress, and he’d be more than happy to teach her. He liked watching their faces as they discovered bliss for the first time. He liked having myriad lovers, and despite his duty to sire an heir, he had absolutely no desire to tie himself down to one woman. As he did with his lovers, Crispin would make sure his wife enjoyed their time in bed, but she wouldn’t be his only bedmate.
The clock struck two as he rolled off Lady Holloway and slipped his arm around her. Her heart still pounded a sharp tattoo, and her body glistened with their exertions. She had not been totally untutored, but her husband had never taught her how many ways there were to pleasure a woman.
No matter their intimacies, she still had not even told him her first name. Crispin supposed it was her way to maintain a distance, but he didn’t like it. Using a bored drawl, he said, “I trust you enjoyed yourself, my lady.”
Her blue eyes searched his. “You know I did.”
“Yet, you will not allow me to know your name.” He cupped one generous breast, molding it as he feathered his thumb over her nipple. He’d soon be ready again.
A shiver ran through her and her nipple drew into a tight bud. “I do not use yours either.”
