Eleven
THE NEXT MORNING, as much as Pearl was hungry, eating her breakfast under the dark scrutiny of Mrs Armstrong was turning the toast and marmalade into ash in her mouth. The older woman was staring at her from the other side of the table, eating nothing and drinking tea. The morning sunlight streamed from the window and inundated the dining room. Yet, cold shivers gripped Pearl’s body.
Next to her, Julia was chatting with Benedict about the music that should be played at the ball tomorrow night. At the head of the table, Christopher was deep in conversation with Dorian and hadn’t glanced at her once. Cowasj was nodding to whatever Dorian was saying. She was basically alone with the old harpy.
Mrs Armstrong lowered her cup. “What’s the name of the vicar who celebrated the service last night?”
Ha! Pearl was prepared. Florence had given her a few details about the local parish. “Father Anthony.”
“Interesting.” The way Mrs Armstrong said it sounded as if she knew something Pearl didn’t. She took another sip. “Have you always been an Anglican?”
“Yes, I have.” Her voice trembled slightly. “Are you looking forward to dancing at the ball?” she asked to change the subject.
“I’m not going to dance.” Mrs Armstrong poured herself another cup of tea. “I’m going to keep an eye on my charges. It’ll be a night of work, mostly.”
Work. With this word, Mrs Armstrong meant she’d breathe on Pearl’s neck and watch her every move. It’d be an interesting night. She chanced a glance at Christopher, but he was absorbed by his conversation with Dorian and Prince Cowasj.
How had she found the courage to actually propose to him in the most indecent way? She’d practically offered herself to him on a platter, and the thing didn’t shock her in the least. In fact, since their conversation last night, her skin tingled in anticipation, and the throb between her legs didn’t want to stop. But she didn’t have anything to lose, and if Christopher agreed to not marry her, Amelia would be safe from any scandal or an unwanted marriage. While Pearl would enjoy all those hard muscles and—
“Will you come with us?” Julia asked, putting a hand on Pearl’s arm.
Pearl swallowed a piece of toast. “Sorry. I’m afraid I was distracted.” By a handsome, grumpy man who wasn’t paying her the slightest bit of attention. “Where should I go?”
“Benedict and I”—Julia flushed—“were planning to take a boat trip on Willows Lake. It’s nearby.”
Pearl glanced at Christopher again. No, he still wasn’t glancing her way.
Benedict winked. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure Christopher comes with us.”
“What about the prince?” she asked in what she hoped was a casual tone.
“The trip to the lake was his idea,” he said. “Cowasj means to buy an estate nearby the lake. The trip will be an occasion for him to know the area better.”
“I’ll be delighted to come.” If she couldn’t manage to stay alone with Christopher, at least she could try talking with the prince again.
~ * ~
PEARL’S USUAL BAD luck was striking her again. On their way to Willows Lake, she was stuck in the landau with Julia, Mrs Armstrong, and Benedict. Christopher was riding in another carriage with Cowasj and Dorian, and he’d said he wouldn’t join them for the boat trip because he had to inspect a litter of puppies in St. Albans and choose his new dog. Pearl would love going with him, but talking with the prince was more important.
If she couldn’t manage to talk with Cowasj, the trip would a complete waste of time. At least Julia and Benedict seemed to enjoy themselves, judging by how they laughed and chatted.
Mrs Armstrong instead sat rigidly on the edge of the seat, a handkerchief pressed on her forehead.
“Do you feel sick?” Pearl asked as the carriage rolled right and left.
“It’s the motion.” Mrs Armstrong fanned herself. “I’m fine in a train, and short trips by carriage don’t bother me, but we’ve been here for more than an hour.” Her cheeks paled.
Even Pearl’s stomach churned when another half an hour had passed. Bumps and jolts occurred on the road to the lake every two minutes, and the wheels sprayed mud and dirty water around. When the driver slowed the pace and turned left, a sigh escaped her.
A green expanse stretched in front of her, and the lake sparked in the middle of the field, surrounded by trees. Swans glided over the water, leaving shallow ripples behind.
“It’s beautiful,” Julia said, bouncing on the seat.
Mrs Armstrong groaned. “Not so loud, please.”
When they pulled over at the edge of the road, Pearl jumped out of the carriage before the footman pulled out the steps, and stretched her legs.
A nagging feeling tugged at the back of her neck. She turned. Christopher’s intense stare was searing her down. He was stripping her naked with his obsidian eyes. Just like that, her pulse raced, and liquid desire pooled between her legs.
