She cuddled against him, closing her eyes as he pressed little kisses to the top of her hair. Was it any wonder she loved him? She could curl against him like this for the rest of the week, for the rest of the year, for the rest of her life. Perhaps he wanted it, too.
“You’re lucky,” she grumbled. “You wake up every morning in bed with you.”
She could sense, rather than see, his grin.
“So could you,” he murmured into her hair. “Stay the night.”
A damp chill feathered across her bare skin. She hadneverspent a night away from home. Not since the day she’d returned to the orphanage to find another needy child tucked asleep in her bed. They had replaced her after only a couple of hours. What would an entire night do?
Her breath came too quickly. “I can’t.”
“You could.” He smoothed a stray hair back from her forehead. “A brand-new day dress and night rail await you on a special shelf in my wardrobe, in case I ever trap you in my arms for an entire night.”
“That’s very presumptuous of you,” she mumbled.
“And expensive,” he agreed. “I had to sell a painting, but if I can keep you a little longer, it will have been worth it.”
She lifted her head. “You sold a painting?”
He nodded. “I had intended to replenish the larder, but then I thought to myself, ‘What if I made love to Chloe all night instead?’ I hope you like porridge for breakfast.”
“I hate porridge for breakfast.”
She burrowed into his warmth, pulse racing.What if she could make love to Lawrence all night? What if she could wake up in the morning not replaced at all but still held fast in his embrace? What if this was the first night of many?
“All right,” she whispered, despite the fear. “I’ll stay.”
31
Chloe could not repress a grin as she set out across Grosvenor Square, arms swinging jauntily at her sides. The sun was dim and the wind was sharp, but nothing could squelch this new spring in her step.
She’d spent the night with Lawrence. In his bed. In hisarms. She hadn’t expected to be able to sleep, but she’d lain her cheek against his steady heartbeat, and the next thing she knew, it was morning.
Chloe had sent a note home to Tommy saying,Don’t worry—I’m with Faircliffe.Tommy’s response had read simply,I know. Graham told me.
Chloe’s cheeks heated. There would be no keepingthissecret.
Perhaps it needn’t be a secret for long. Not only was Chloe wearing a gown Lawrence had purchased for her, she was also walking across the square to the reading circle from his house. She had left by the rear door so as not to give the gossips fodder, but people would notice if this became a habit.
Was Lawrence thinking about courting her? Or at least thinking again about whether they might suit after all?
She tried to push such thoughts out of her mind, at least for now. For the next few hours the reading circle deserved her attention.
This time was different. She was no longer lurking. Gone was her aggressively forgettable attire.
Chloe looked like a lady.
If she was overlooked like this, it would be because no amount of finery could make unremarkable Chloe Wynchester anything but ordinary. She infused her posture with confidence.
No more hiding in a shadow of her own making. The person whose acceptance she needed to earn was her own. She was Miss Chloe Bloody Wynchester. She wasn’t inferior to anyone, no matter what their birth. She did impossible things all the time. Of course she could succeed atthis.
She strode up the familiar path to the Yorks’ front door. When the butler opened it wide, she offered not a calling card but a sunny smile.
“How do you do, Mr. Underwood?”
“Very well.” He blinked, taken aback at being greeted by name, particularly when he likely could not recall hers.
Chloe slipped past him and took several steps down the corridor toward the parlor before a different obstacle blocked her passage.
