Page 64 of Pride, Prejudice & Wicked Pleasure

He frowned. The next two hours would not be easy.

“It was not without difficulty that I came here,” she continued. “The opportunities for these lessons are few, and the window upon them slim. If there is no good reason not to proceed—”

He turned from her. The dress molded her body in a fashion as to set his mind on fire. He faced a statue of Bastet, her feline eyes staring at him as if to demand how he dared commit blasphemy in her presence by not engaging in amorous activity.

“Are you ill?” she asked. “But you must have recovered or you would not have sent that note to me.”

“That was not mine.” He looked about, but in a rotunda, there was no corner to retreat to.

“That would explain the different handwriting,” she mused aloud. “But who then…?”

“I would hazard Mr. Nicholas Trenwith to be the author.”

Understanding seemed to dawn for her. “You think he gave me the aphrodisiac intentionally?”

“Did I not warn you to be on your guard?” he responded more angrily than he intended.

“Forgive me if I do not suspect everyone of poisoning me!”

He put a hand to his head in frustration. What was he to do?

“Is the aphrodisiac dangerous?”

“Not that I am aware.”

Though she had consumed a fair amount.

Agitated, she rose to her feet but wavered within a few steps, as if about to faint. He was at her side in an instant.

“One would think me inebriated,” she said with a hand at her head.

He helped her sit upon the bed. “Perhaps you had best lie a while.”

She nodded and allowed him to place her feet upon the bed as she reclined against the pillows. Her gaze roamed the rotunda, eventually falling upon a hieroglyphic of a man penetrating a woman from behind.

“What is this place?” she inquired.

“Abby names it the Temple of Bastet, said to be the goddess of sensual pleasure and defender of the pharaohs. She often takes the form of a cat or lioness.”

Miss Elizabeth observed the many appearances of the feline creature around them, including a gold embroidery upon a pillow. She rubbed her thighs together. He attempted to keep from looking anywhere below her neck.

“A fitting place for amorous pursuits,” she murmured. “Are you still opposed to the lesson?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He took a deep breath through his nose as he attempted to conjure a credible explanation, but nothing of satisfaction came to mind.

“You are inebriated, of a sort,” he repeated and went to stand against the wall.

She put a hand upon her forehead and crossed one leg over the other. Her breath was uneven. “Still, I fail to comprehend why that is an obstacle?”

“It is simply my principle not to engage if a pupil is intoxicated,” he replied brusquely.

Her squirming increased. A hand gripped the sheets. “A noble policy, I am sure, but rather unnecessary. I came here with full and sober awareness of what I engage in.”

“You will thank me later,” he muttered. It was no use. He could refrain from looking upon her directly but could still detect her motions from the periphery of his eyes.