Page 30 of This Marquess of Mine

Chapter Ten

Griffin pushed his plate across the dining room table and scowled at his uneaten kippers.

Something was wrong with him. Normally he had the appetite of an elephant, but these last two days, food held little appeal for him.

Coffee, thankfully, did not.

Rising from his chair, he crossed the dense Aubusson rug to the sideboard and poured himself another cup before making his way to the window overlooking the garden. He sipped the steaming brew as he gazed down with tired eyes at the empty, sun-glazed square of greenery.

He sighed. He was up too late again last night, his mind refusing to rest, consumed with thoughts of Olivia and that bloody kiss that seemed to have seared itself on his brain.

He rubbed his aching eyes. He shouldn’t have done it. He should never have kissed her. He knew that now.

Hell, he’d known it then, but he’d done it anyway.

And even though he knew it was foolish, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Not completely. It was stupid, yes, but—damn it all—it was bloody good, too. Better than he’d imagined it would be, and he’d done a lot of imagining where Olivia Blakely was concerned.

Just last night he’d imagined her in his bed, her soft hands on his body, her lips around his cock, the hot slide of her tongue as she sucked him deep. And then he’d taken himself in hand and spilled his release on the counterpane.

Even now, the thought of that kiss stirred his blood. It was utter madness, and it had to end.

“Good morning, brother dear!”

Griffin gave a guilty start, sloshing his coffee, and turned as Emmy breezed into the room and made for the sideboard, her ivory gown swishing with each stride.

“Good morning, Em,” he said, shifting on his feet. Had his sister really caught him thinking erotic thoughts in the family dining room?

Erotic thoughts of her dearest friend, no less. God, he needed a good night’s sleep.

“You look tired,” Emmy said, as if reading his mind, something she did with annoying regularity. She spooned eggs onto her plate and flicked him a glance. “Were you up late last night entertaining a lady friend?”

Griff shot her a look on his way back to the dining table. “I beg your pardon?” he asked after he’d settled onto his seat.

She joined him a moment later, setting her plate down on the table across from his before sitting in her chair.

“I understand you and Cecilia Morris are enjoying an illicit affair right now,” she said casually. “I thought perhaps she might have kept you up late.” Gray eyes met his over the rim of her teacup.

Griffin sighed. “Bloody hell, Em. You shouldn’t say such things. You shouldn’t even know such things.”

But his sister seemed to know everything about everyone, even him. It was deuced irritating.

Emmy rolled her eyes and bit into a slice of toasted bread. “If you wish to hide such things from me, I suggest you try harder,” she said around the bite of bread. “Besides, isn’t this what gentlemen discuss with each other? Their mistresses? I only brought it up because I thought you might be missing James.”

“Well, you thought wrong.”

She took another bite of bread, watching him as she chewed. “So?” she pressed. “Were you up late last night with Mrs. Morris or not?”

Griff heaved a resigned sigh and gave in to the inevitable. He knew his sister, and she would not let up until she received an answer.

“No, I wasn’t,” he said. “Mrs. Morris and I have ended our arrangement, and now I’m…” He trailed off with a flick of his hand.

“Between mistresses?” Emmy supplied, her grin impudent.

It was Griff’s turn to roll his eyes. God, she was a pest. “When are you going to get married so I can finally be rid of you?”

She arched her brows. “I could ask the same of you, brother dear. Shouldn’t you be working on producing an heir? Or, better still, a spare?”

Griff sat back in his chair and gave his head a slow, mournful shake. “My God,” he muttered. “You are sounding more and more like our mother every day.”