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“Sophia…”
Warm breath caressed her neck, and her body melted against his.
He let out a low chuckle. “Perhaps I should rescue boats more often, if I am to be rewarded in such a pretty fashion.”
She pulled herself free, her cheeks flaming. How many other women had he held in such a manner, who had succumbed to his spell?
“Adrian, you look so funny!” Henry cried. “Look at your clothes!”
FitzRoy placed his hands on his hips and inspected his breeches, then wrinkled his nose and winked at Sophia.
“I’m afraid I’ve turned into one of those fabled monsters of the deep,” he said.
“Your boots are ruined,” Sophia said. “And your breeches.”
Her gaze followed the waterline where it had soaked his breeches. A streak of mud formed a line along his legs, to where his thighs met, where she discerned a definite bulge in his breeches, which increased as he bent down to pick up his jacket.
“It’s nothing my valet won’t fix,” he said, brushing his jacket before putting it on, “though not without a severe admonishment. Jenkins is rather a stickler for appearance.”
“Then perhaps you shouldn’t go jumping into the Serpentine at a whim.”
“It wasn’t a whim,” he said. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat. After all, Master Henry is my friend, is he not?”
Beside her, Henry stood, clutching the boat in his hands, a shy smile on his lips. FitzRoy crouched beside him and took his shoulders.
“Is that not true, young man?” he asked. “Would you like me as a friend?”
“Oh yes!” Henry cried. He turned his gaze to Sophia, that familiar pleading look in his eyes. “May Adrian join us for tea?”
“I don’t know…”
“Oh please, Mama! To thank him for my boat.”
“Perhaps another time,” FitzRoy said, “when I’m not so disgracefully attired.”
“We could take tea in the kitchen,” Henry said. “It’s always so much warmer there. Then no one need see you, and you can dry your boots by the fire.”
“Cook would have a fit,” Sophia said, “not to mention Mrs. Huntington. And we cannot ask the colonel to sit in the kitchen, Henry.”
“Why ever not?” FitzRoy asked.
“It’s simply not done,” she replied. “Surely you understand that?”
“Because I’m a gentleman?” He smiled. “When I was a boy, I always found the kitchen infinitely preferable to a stuffy morning room. I find it a great shame that society forbids us to use the kitchen when inviting guests for tea.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but we cannot. Mrs. Huntington would not permit it—and Summerton Hall is her house.”
“Then perhaps I might invite you to take tea in my kitchen at Roseborough—my country estate.”
“I don’t know…”
“Well, I do,” he said. “It would be proper and above board if you like. You could even bring along that young maid as chaperone. Tilly, isn’t it? I’m sure she’d like a visit to the country, and Roseborough is beautiful. You could stay a few days.”
He looked so eager and boyish that she didn’t possess the heart to refuse him.
“I’ll consider it,” she said. “Is it far from London?”
“A morning’s ride away,” he said. “About halfway between London and Brighton.”
