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“Now then, the first order of business: I think the ladies have far too much attire upon them!” Devon declared.
“The first order of business in the East Wing is always to establish the safety word,” Rockwell corrected, his patience tested already.
“Ah, yes. How about ‘cease and desist?’”
“A single word would be easier to remember, and it is customary that the word differ from any cries they may utter in the normal course of activities.”
Devon rolled his eyes. “It can be Humpty Dumpty for all I care.”
“A single word.”
Halsten wanted to wring the man’s neck. It was proving to be a long night already.
“Scotland,” Isabella suggested. “I am to travel there with my aunt and uncle later this year.”
“Are the ladies agreed?”
Miss Herwood nodded.
“Then let us proceed!” Devon said. He staked a claim upon his side of the room and pulled Isabella to him.
“But,” Isabella protested as Devon reached for the pins on her frock. “Is there no curtain? After all, they can see.”
“Precisely the point, my dear. It will heighten the experience, I assure you. And is supremely naughty.”
Halsten frowned. Devon was the last person he wanted to share a room in the East Wing with.
Miss Herwood walked carefully to the other side of the room. She looked around her. Was she seeking a means of escape or a place to hide? Seeing none, she seemed to steel herself. Devon had Isabella’s gown undone and was moving to the skirts.
“Remember you can speak the safety word at any time,” Halsten reminded Miss Herwood. “I will ensure its proper execution.”
She nodded and slipped out of her shoes. “I trust your lordship.”
He inhaled sharply. The statement meant more to him than he expected. He undid the pins of her dress. He waited, but she said nothing. Across the r
oom, Isabella giggled as Devon tossed her garments away with flourish.
Slowly, Halsten slid the garment from Miss Herwood’s shoulders. She kept her eyes downcast. He untied her petticoat next. It fell to the floor, leaving her in her chemise, stays, stockings and garters. Against the light of the fire, he could see the silhouette of her legs and the darkness of her garter through the thin chemise. Having engaged in a ménage-a-trois both in India and Chateau Follet, he was no stranger to sharing a woman. But he had no desire to share Miss Herwood—with anyone, let alone Lord Devon. Looking across the room, he found Devon eyeing Miss Herwood. Halsten would have done almost anything to bring pleasure to Miss Herwood, but at the moment he wanted nothing more than for her to utter the safety word and put an end to their situation.
Isabella, in similar state of undress, glanced over to them. A small smile graced her colored lips, perhaps from espying that her own garments were visibly superior in quality or that her form had more classic feminine lines that that of Miss Herwood. Isabella’s stays supported pert alabaster breasts, and her chemise fell over youthful narrow hips. Seeing Halsten’s gaze, Devon smirked and ran both hands down Isabella’s pale, bare arms.
Halsten returned his attention to Miss Herwood. Devon could believe whatever he wished, Halsten knew he had the better woman. He waited until Devon began unlacing Isabella’s stays before doing the same. Miss Herwood trembled slightly as he pulled at the ribbons.
“Do you require the safety word?” he whispered into her ear.
She shook her head.
“Are you cold?”
“No.”
With a deep breath, he removed her stays. Any moment now she would be completely naked. Naked before that damnable Devon.
But despite his loathing of their predicament, the ability of her beautiful body to arouse Halsten persevered. His groin tightened.
Isabella cried out and giggled as Devon, aroused and impatient, stripped her shift away in awkward haste.
“A feast for the eyes, eh, Rockwell?” Devon declared.
