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They’d reached a quieter area now, a little away from the general hubbub.
“Has he made you an offer?” Hetty all but hissed, wondering if Sir Aubrey was planning to seduce Hetty later this evening before blithely announcing his betrothal to her sister. Surely he’d not do that? His sensibilities had been so upset when he discovered what he’d done to an innocent debutante, he’d barely touched Hetty since. Not until tonight, anyway, when barely minutes ago he’d advertised his desire so clearly Hetty could not think he’d invite her to his supper box for any reason other than to…
Dare she believe it? Sir Aubrey was a man of honor. He’d never risk hers at this juncture unless it was to make her a respectable offer.
Araminta looked falsely sympathetic as only her sister could look. “Not yet but I expect one shortly.”
Hetty glowered. “Only because he thinks you can get him the letter.”
Araminta widened her eyes. “Oh no, just before we parted company I told him you had the letter,” she said. “I wanted it but Jane said she’d given it to you and I know I won’t induce you to hand it over to me.” She sighed, adding, “Though as the eldest, I have every right simply to take it from you. But you’re so eager to be the one to hand it over to Sir Aubrey.” She gazed at the sky. “And if for some reason you didn’t want to give it to him, Sir Aubrey said he’d find a way to persuade you.” She swung ‘round to smile at her sister. “I decided to stay well clear of the nasty business but I did feel I owed you a forewarning of his intentions.” Her smile broadened. “Or rather, our intentions.”
Hetty could barely see through her tear-filled eyes. “I’m sorry, Araminta, but I have to make an urgent visit and…and Seb and Amelia are waving to you. I won’t get lost, I promise, but actually I rather think I’m going to be sick.”
Dashing back into the throng before Araminta could respond, Hetty plunged along the Druid’s Walk, making blindly for Sir Aubrey’s supper box, Araminta’s words screaming in her ears.
So his kindness was merely on account of wanting the letter? He was going to offer for Araminta tonight? Hetty was nothing but a credulous fool? He’d enjoyed toying with her but now he had no more use for her than a discarded…mistress?
“My love, what’s the matter?” Sir Aubrey rose to his feet the moment she plunged through the entrance and, completely against her earlier determination, she allowed herself to be swept into his arms.
Hetty fought the tears that stung her eyelids. She tried to be strong against his overtures but then his mouth covered hers in a deep and demanding kiss that sucked from her any resolve to hold herself aloof.
As she slithered, boneless, down the wall, he picked her up and carried her to the banquette, still kissing her with the passion of someone who has been starved of the physical and now seeks to plunder all that’s on offer.
Helpless against her desire, Hetty kissed him back. She twined her hands behind his neck and pressed her body against his, glorying in the feel of his straining erection, a harbinger of the sensual delights she’d missed so much.
Until the terrible truth began its insidious journey into the recesses of her mind like fine mist, to counter the pleasure of his wandering hands.
“You’re only doing this because you want the letter,” she forced herself to say through trembling lips, staying his progress beyond her knee. The skirts of her Spanish dancer’s costume had been flipped up to reveal an expanse of bare thigh above her stocking but now she pulled down the black lace froth to cover herself.
“Having the letter means nothing if I can’t have you, my Henrietta,” he mur
mured in the gentlest of vibrations against her lips, ignoring her protests as he pushed her hand away so he could continue, unhindered, what he’d been doing before.
Hetty knew when she was defeated. His deft caresses, the tenderness and strength of his warm embrace and the wicked sensations Sir Aubrey had reawakened were almost too much.
Nevertheless she had to go on, rasping through lips that stung with the need to press against his, “You want to seduce me so that I’ll give you the letter and then you’re going to offer for Araminta, aren’t you?”
She’d shocked him.
Dropping his hand abruptly from her leg, he set her away from him. “What makes you think that?”
Misery churned inside her. He had not refuted it. He was charming and he’d find a way to win her over, she knew it. She was weak when he was near and he was the only man she’d ever wanted. Would it make her feel better to hear him admit the truth, or deny it? At least then she could fool herself afterward, her excuse being that she’d believed he was going to make an honorable woman of her.
She sucked in a difficult breath as she met his troubled gaze. “The look that creeps into your eye every time you speak to Araminta. The ease with which you know you can have me.” She looked away, swamped by the miserable truth. “I knew it was madness for me to come here. I knew I would be completely won over by your charm and that I was a fool for being so weak. You could just take what was on offer. There was no chase for you. I have only myself to blame when you discard me.”
“Hetty, no!” He shook her gently, real anger in his eyes. “Is that what you think? That my only interest is in what you can offer me? Your body? The letter?”
Suddenly he was kissing her again and she was across his lap, supported by his left arm while being pleasured with his right, his fingers blazing a trail of sensation up her thigh, and she had no more willpower than a butterfly in a field of buttercups.
“I want you, Hetty, more than I want that damned letter,” he growled. “Araminta holds no interest for me, even if she did possess it.”
“You can’t be serious.” The words came out as a croak while his fingers continued their magical caresses.
“Deadly serious.” He stopped kissing her, the expression in his eye warning her to take heed. “Araminta is cold, mercurial…calculating. Perhaps I shouldn’t condemn her for that since every woman needs to position herself as well as she can in this world. But you, Hetty…” His expression softened. “You are quite unlike anyone I’ve ever met. You’re warm and soft and…completely disarming with your ability to give.”
Hetty gave a self-deprecating laugh, not won over though his kindness and the purely physical sensations he continued to evoke in her were close to mind-altering. “Like I’m giving myself to you now?”
The faintest of shrugs and a return to pleasuring her were his answers and Hetty whimpered, her body thrilling to the heightened sensation.
