Page 133 of The Quiet Wife
Jemie nodded. “Her husband?”
“He’s around, but rarely with Frances. He’s like a dog with two tails with his new company and I don’t think he has given his family much thought.”
A knock at the door startled him. His mother steadied a hand on his chest. “Be calm.”
The maid opened the door and introduced Mrs Leyland and Miss Dawson. They came in and his gaze shot to Frances. She looked… Oh God, she looked wonderful.
“It’s so good to see you both,” his mother gathered them both up in warm embraces.
Frances stood before him and smiled into his eyes.
“I think Vienna agreed with you,” she said softly. “You look well.”
He smiled back, but it required all he had to stay in one place and not rush to swoop her into his arms. “I could say the same for you and Chelsea.” It appeared living apart from her husband in her new home at Hans Place had given her something Jemie hadn’t seen before. It was hard to describe. She was still his Frances, but whatever it was, it looked good on her. A different Frances to the quiet woman whose portrait he painted.
“Chelsea is wonderful,” she chuckled. “It’s filled with artists and writers. Everyone is so friendly and not at all stuffy. I feel I can relax here. No-one worries if I’m not completely on point.”
They had tea and cake and talked politely. He told them a little of his travels, and how he was gradually restoring both his reputation and his fortunes after Leyland had savaged him so badly. Vienna had been kind to him, of that there was no doubt. It had given him the courage to return to London and to her.
Lizzie entertained them with tales of the season and the girls’ hilarious exploits in attempting to secure husbands. He wasn’t surprised to hear that Valentine Prinsep was a regular visitor to the home, having demonstrated a partiality for Florence.
They finished the tea and cakes, and his mother beamed at them all. “Lizzie, darling, would you accompany me to the shops? I desperately need new ribbons for my grey dress, and I have a hankering for some new gloves.”
“I’d be delighted.” Lizzie stood up, and so did his mother.
“Frances, perhaps you would keep Jemie company for an hour?” Anna suggested.
“Of course,” she said demurely. Jemie was open-mouthed with surprise at their blatant scheming, but he said nothing.
“My mother has all the tact of a charging elephant,” he observed mildly once they had all left.
Frances laughed. “She’s wonderful. At least this way we can speak to each other before being plunged into some party or other and have to dance around.”
He nodded and glanced at her. “This isn’t how I imagined our reunion would be, and believe me, I’ve imagined it many times.”
“Tell me what you imagined.” Her smile softened.
“Well, you and I, somewhere alone.”
She looked about her. “We are alone.”
“Somewhere completely alone where you would run into my arms and I would crush you to me, spin you around, kiss you witless, and then carry you to bed and make love to you. Five times.”
Her eyebrows raised. “Five times. I admire your ambition.”
He laughed gently, his gaze never leaving hers.
She stood up, gesturing for him to get out of the chair. Frowning, he obliged.
“Now, go over there.” She pointed to the far edge of the room, so he trooped over and turned back to face her, a smile growing whilst she went to the other side.
“Are you ready?”
She wouldn’t… she would!
She lifted her skirts, ran across the room, and threw herself into his arms.
He wasn’t sure if he was laughing or crying as he caught her, lifted her off her feet, and spun her around before sliding her down to the floor and kissing her. She moaned into his mouth and pushed against him. He wanted to be a gentleman, but he needed her. He pressed against her tightly, rocking them together, as the kiss became incendiary.
