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“Do you prefer it?”
“At times,” he replied candidly, “depending upon the company.”
To his relief, she changed the subject. “Madame Follet seems a lovely hostess.”
“Did you expect otherwise?”
“In truth I had no specific expectations, but in what manner was her husband acquainted with the Marquis de Sade?”
Perhaps he should never have made mention of de Sade. What righteous young woman would not be alarmed by that name?
“They were imprisoned in the Château de Vincennes at the same time, both under a lettre de cachet. Their fellow prisoner included the Comte de Mirabeau.”
“Was Monsieur Follet a writer of erotic works as well?”
“In truth, he wrote political essays, but his letter de cachet was the result of an affair with the wife of an influential Marquis, who claimed Follet had attempted to abduct his wife. Follet said the kidnapping was consensual, a form of titillation, and that he was liberating her from an abusive husband. She took her own life shortly after Follet was imprisoned.”
“How very sad. Did you know Monsieur Follet well?”
“He passed some years ago. I am better acquainted with Madame Follet.”
He could discern her thoughts: she wondered if he and Madame Follet had been intimate. He would not have abhorred any feelings of jealousy from her, but while he could often read her mind, he was far from certain as to how Miss Herwood truly felt about him.
“She is very comely,” Miss Herwood said. “I wonder that she has not married again?”
“I know not her interest in matrimony, but she has not had a shortage of lovers.”
She turned her clear eyes upon him, her gaze asking, “Are you one of them?”
They had arrived at the stables. Two horses had been saddled, one of them carrying the picnic. He assisted Miss Herwood onto the chestnut while he took the grey. The afternoon proved temperate and their ride a pleasant one as they took the horses over rolling hills and across green fields. They found a flat area above one of the hills and set up their picnic.
“What a lovely landscape,” she murmured as she looked out at Chateau Follet in the distance. The fresh air and minor breeze agreed with Miss Herwood.
After setting out the bread, cheeses, and sweetmeats, he poured two glasses of wine.
“I am allowed?” she asked wryly.
“I have no intentions to ravish you.”
“Why not?”
Her forwardness had him taken aback. He handed her a glass of the wine to provide himself a second to recover. The pulse in his cock throbbed. “Are you trying to tempt me, Miss Herwood?”
She took a sip of the wine. “And if I were?”
He did not expect but was certainly not displeased by her show of shamelessness for it proved she felt enough at ease with him.
“I have no reservations of baring your arse out here.”
She quickly partook of the sweetmeats as if they could provide her a protective barrier. “Is this all part of your seduction?”
“You propositioned me, Miss Herwood,” he reminded her.
“And you did not require much seducing.”
“I did not,” he acknowledged.
“Why?”
