“Then I must ask,” she said, “what happens now?”
“That is entirely up to you.”
“And if I should say – ”
“Then we shall proceed no further than you desire,” he said at once.
She blinked up at him. “Do you mean it?”
“Of course. And if you would prefer to wait until after we are wed, then wait we shall.”
“I do not wish to stop,” she said at once, breathless and blushing. “Not altogether. I simply… I should not like to make a dreadful muddle of it.”
His smile was slow, fond, and he knew it to be a little wicked. “I do not believe you could ruin it if you tried.”
“Oh, I might,” she returned, attempting dryness, though her voice wavered with some small degree of wonder. “I possess a particular talent for things going horribly awry. You may ask anyone in London.”
He huffed a soft laugh and caught her hand again, raising it to his lips with a kiss. “Then allow me, if I may, to make you a promise.Tonight, I shall kiss you as thoroughly as honour permits. I shall acquaint you, if you are willing, with such pleasures as may be shared between two persons on the very cusp of marriage. But I shall not take from you what is not yet mine to claim. Not until you are truly my wife. Not until I may undress you by right and adore you in ways I believe you shall enjoy most thoroughly.”
Her lips parted on a breathless sound somewhere between a gasp and a laugh, and he kissed it from her mouth before it could fully form.
“Is that acceptable to you?” he asked against her lips.
“Yes,” she whispered. “But I must urge you to begin at once, Lord Langley… for I find I am now most curious about these so-called pleasures.”
Chapter 20
It had not taken long for Hetty to grow bold, so flushed, breathless and full of longing as she was. Theo had guided her slowly back towards the armchair, sliding his hands along the curves of her bodice, and she, in turn, allowed herself to be seated astride his lap with a shiver of anticipation she could neither name nor resist. He winced, just once, and she froze.
“I am perfectly fine,” he said quickly, catching her wrists in his hands. “Truly. But I may require a moment’s pause if you keep looking at me with that particular expression.”
“And what expression is that, sir?”
“The one that suggests you intend to devour me whole.”
She laughed, soft and scandalised. “And what, pray, do you intend to do to me next?”
“I intend to make you sigh.”
“That sounds terribly virtuous.”
“Oh, I assure you, it shall not be.” He trailed his fingers down the seam of her bodice. “I intend to unlace this absurd confection of a gown and kiss every inch of skin it reveals. I intend to teach youprecisely how wicked a man’s hands may be without venturing too far.”
She swallowed hard, for his words seemed to warm her from within.
“And I shall make you sigh, Hetty Tolliver, until you forget every one of your mother’s blasted seating arrangements and floral garlands and remember only me.”
“And if you should perish in the attempt?”
“Then you must throw yourself dramatically upon my coffin,” he said with mock solemnity, “crying that no man ever died more nobly, nor more delighted.”
Pressing her forehead to his shoulder, Hetty stifled a laugh. “You wish me to weep prettily at your funeral, do you?”
“Indeed not prettily,” he said, brushing his lips against her temple. “I wish you to scandalise the entire congregation. I should like you to wail in anguish and declare your undying love, before swooning onto my casket.”
“I shall do no such thing. I shall wear your favourite colour and dance with someone wildly inappropriate. A poet, perhaps. Or worse, a Whig.”
Groaning aloud, he let his head fall back against the chair. “Vicious woman.”
