Page 17 of Prince of Scandal

Mrs. King nodded and curled one hand around his upper arm, then they strolled once more into the crush of dancers. “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Latimer.”

“Not at all, madam.”

In moments, they were met by Reverend March. “There you are!” he said cheerfully. “Thought I’d misplaced you both.”

“I had a minor gown mishap, Reverend,” said Mrs. King sweetly. “Mr. Latimer kindly escorted me around the crush to the powder room. How thoughtful it is to provide a retiring chamber! Oh, and I do hope you have raised a great deal of money for the church roof.”

“We couldn’t have done it without you, Mrs. King. Everyone had such fun being scandalous for a short while. My word, it is a rather intimate dance, is it not? But now we’re all going outside to get some fresh air and play games. You will join us, I hope?”

Ashton inclined his head, understanding the vicar’s words for what they really were, an opportunity to pretend they hadn’t gone temporarily missing in the middle of a dance, and all was well and above reproach. If they played some games in the company of a man of the cloth, no one could say a word against them. “We should be delighted, Reverend.”

“Oh, indeed,” said Mrs. King. “I haven’t played outdoor games in so long.”

“Capital,” said the vicar. “Miss Dunmore is equally eager, so we’ll join her and Phoebe and Sir Alan outside, shall we? Mrs. March is back manning her marzipan stall, so will join us later on.”

Ashton exchanged an uneasy glance with his soon-to-be lover. A game with the Reverend was one thing, but with India Dunmore involved, it could all get quite messy. If India attempted to stake some sort of claim as she’d done earlier, especially after the promise he’d just made to Georgiana…ugh.

It was just as well he’d been born a prince of Prussia, and keeping the stiffest of upper lips in the face of chaos was the only world he knew.

In any event, a simple game of ring toss or hoops couldn’t go that badly.

Surely.

* * *

An actual miracle had occurred: she was putting one foot in front of the other, and her lips were forming words as though Ashton Latimer hadn’t just turned her whole world around in the powder room.

“When we shortly commence our affair…”

“You’ll be free to moan and whimper and beg while I toy with your naked body…”

“When at last I permit you an orgasm and you scream my name to the heavens…”

For the first time in her life, Georgiana had been struck speechless. Not to mention aroused beyond belief. Could a woman orgasm from hearing words alone? If Mr. Latimer continued to speak to her in that low, commanding tone, perhaps specify where and how he would touch her…she might well be able to answer her own question.

But first she had to endure some outdoor games. With Miss Dunmore. While the vicar’s gentle reproof at their exit from the dance had provoked an inner eye roll, she certainly appreciated his lack of theatrics about it. In London, a widow and a bachelor strolling together or stepping outside for air was barely worth commenting on, but apparently here in Brundall it was as scandalous as a waltz. They would have to be cautious in their affair. Keep it to meetings at either estate, and not on days when the March ladies came calling, although it was difficult to see Phoebe getting a bee in her bonnet about it.

Very soon, she might finally know what an orgasm felt like. Unlike Rupert, Mr. Latimer seemed very much a man of his word.

“Mrs. King?”

Jolted from her reverie, Georgiana smiled hastily at the vicar. Now was not the time for woolgathering, not with an enemy like India Dunmore in her midst. “Yes, Reverend?”

“Have you ever played hoops? We are rather competitive here in Brundall, God bless us one and all, and have our own version. Like a foot race. Each race is two people rolling their hoop with a stick down the track there, around the pole, and back again. First to cross the rope line wins.”

She nodded slowly. “That sounds easy enough.”

India snorted delicately. “There is a certain technique to ensure victory, of course.”

“Speed and balance help, got to keep that hoop spinning,” said Sir Alan enthusiastically as he removed his shoes and stockings. “We run in bare feet, if you don’t mind a bit of grass and mud.”

“Thank you for the tips,” said Georgiana, bestowing a warm smile on him. Phoebe truly had chosen well.

Mr. Latimer also bent down and removed his shoes and stockings, before placing them on an empty chair. “So, who is going to race who, vicar?”

“I shall race Sir Alan!” said Phoebe, grinning at her betrothed as she kicked off her shoes and peeled away her stockings. “As a gentleman, he will surely let me win.”

“Not likely, Blossom,” replied Sir Alan with a chuckle. “Every parishioner for themselves when it comes to hoops, you know that.”