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“No one would think such a thing of me,” Anne said with more confidence than she felt, given that she very much wanted Miss Barrow to put a flush on her cheeks. “I am here on business.”
“Would it bother you if they wonder if business turned to pleasure?”
“Of course. I have a reputation.”
“My reputation hasn’t suffered.”
“When you don’t care, there isn’t much to suffer.”
“Of course I care. My name means everything to me,” Miss Barrow snapped. “Myname, not the name of my father, or my son. I have no patron of the arts to support me, no man financing my goals. Letitia Barrow stands on her own. And that means something.” Her lips were thin and her eyes narrowed.
Anne took a breath. “It is I who has overstepped now. My apologies, Miss Barrow. I won’t take more of your time today.”
She got up from the chair, and was caught between it and Miss Barrow, who rose at the same time. She was so close that Anne could smell her spiced vanilla perfume, so close that there was no mistaking the fire in those gold-flecked brown eyes.
“This is a mistake,” Anne breathed, but she knew it wasn’t a warning she heard in her own ears. It wasanticipation.
“If it’s a mistake, Your Grace, then we should make it well worth it.”
Those words should have scared Anne from moving, so surely this was some other woman leaning in, someone else’s hands caressing Miss Barrow’s strong forearms and sliding up to her shoulders, some other pair of lips that sought sweet purchase.
But no, those lips were very much Anne’s own, desire heating her body where it came up flush against Miss Barrow’s. Her lips were so soft, her hands gentle on Anne’s waist. Anne ran her hands over her braids, learning their texture the way she had learned that of velvet and brocade and gloss polish downstairs, and then held onto her shoulders to draw her closer as she deepened the kiss.
Miss Barrow bumped her up against the tea table with a clatter of cups. Anne hoped they hadn’t broken, but thought escaped her asMiss Barrow’s warm lips moved over her chin and down her throat and pressed against a sensitive spot above her collar that weakened her knees. To hell with the teacups. She could always buy more. She arched up against her, shifting so her bottom was on the table, allowing her thighs to part enough for Miss Barrow to press closer between them.
This was all the heat she could ask for, packaged up in rather too much wool and petticoat and lace, but glorious under her hands as she wrapped her arms tight around Miss Barrow’s back.
The door was thrown open.
Chapter Twelve
Robert stood there, his mouth agape. Hell and the devil. What was he doing home in the middle of the afternoon? Then Letty glanced out the window and saw that dusk had fallen. The duchess had stayed longer than she had thought.
“I—I beg your pardon,” he spluttered, giving Letty a scathing glare. He swung around and slammed the door behind him so hard that Letty could hear the dishes clinking together in the cupboard.
There would be another argument when he came home later tonight. But Letty found to her surprise that she didn’t much care. Not when her arms were filled with an intoxicating woman.
The duchess moved out of her arms and smoothed her skirts, which needed no smoothing at all. Much to Letty’s regret. She would have liked to have crumpled a fistful of that beautifully soft wool in her hand, raising it higher on her legs, teasing her with a glimpse of chemise. And maybe more.
Every good intention she had about not flirting with the duchess had gone out the window at the very first hint of temptation. She swallowed. “Your Grace. I do apologize—”
“Do you think we are rather past formalities now, Miss Barrow?” She was…smiling?
“I would like that very much. Please do call me Letitia. Or Letty, if you prefer.”
“Letty.” She paused. “It suits you. My given name is Anne.”
“Anne. How lovely.” Letty feared she was grinning like a fool. “Well, Anne, my apologies for my son’s poor timing.”
“That was Robert?” She seemed delighted. “It is nice to have a face to go with the stories you tell of him.”
“You aren’t worried about the stories he might tell of us?” Anne pokered up again, and Letty frowned. “Even for your rank, I will not hide who I am. If you would like to go back to being Your Grace and forget that this happened, I would understand.”
“I want this,” she said, her eyes dark with desire. “If I don’t do something different, then I become no different myself, and I am tired of living my life for other people and taking nothing for my own. But I need to be careful. You understand, don’t you?”
“I want it too,” Letty said. “But I don’t keep these things secret.”
“You have a lot to lose, too,” she pointed out. “Your reputation might not have suffered among rumors of the kind of love you seek. But would it suffer if it became known that you were taking pleasure with the woman who employs you?”
