Page 96 of Lessons for Marquesses
“We discuss this because I expected you to treat her better. She is your cousin. And you, a viscountess. A lady.”
“I have a deep affection for her.”
“Yes, telling her the gown you commissioned for her cost a fortune for the yardage required. That showed a deep-seated, tender regard for her feelings.”
“Silly boy,” she breathed at his lips, her green eyes glittering like emeralds. “You have been long gone from our world. I am the portrait of restraint where she is concerned. Others would likely not deign to speak to her.”
“And the ball? What will the others do then?”
“It is my ball. Our chance to relive what should have been. Do you remember? You were to announce our engagement at Montacute’s ball. We were to start a life there. We will start our life anew. With everyone watching in envy.” She fluttered her fingers. “Perhaps I might have the Margate Ruby upon my finger?”
The Margate Ruby had graced the current Marchioness of Eastwick’s finger and before that, the Countess of Margate’s for over 500 years.
“You’re married,” he said slowly, pointing to her wedding band, “Caro.”
“Bother! What does marriage have to do with our love? Tufton cares only that I am discreet.”
Nicholas laughed harshly. “A ball is discreet. And wearing another man’s ring.”
“Afterward, we will be discreet. Now,” she purred, grabbing his breeches, “I wish to cry out to the heavens with your manhood thrusting inside me. My big, virile Nicky.” She clasped his cock, which was not virile or big at present. “Take me. Make me cry out in pleasure. I’ve searched for someone like him but no one can fill me, overflowing, splitting me into raptures, like Nicky.”
“Ah.” Not stimulating, that.
She snapped back. “What?”
“Do you love me or my manhood?”
“Both. Kiss me.”
Nicholas eased back to the mattress, and as he planned, Caroline draped over him. He rolled her to her back and held her there. “I want you to stop calling her Poppy.”
“Why?” she asked on the verge of anger.
“Because I asked you to. Because George does not care for it, and you are a guest. And in the rules of xenia, there is an obligation for guests to be courteous lest they be slain for their incivility.”
Anger colored her tone. “What on earth isxenia?”
“You have not read Homer’sOdyssey,I take it.”
“What woman reads Greek?”
“George.”
“She is not a woman. She is hardly a female.”
I beg to differ, he almost replied. “Still, it’s what I ask of you.”
Her budded lips twisted. “Are you fond of her?”
“I warn you, do not underestimate George. If you continue to disregard courtesy and goad her with your sweet insults, she will strike back.”
“Please. She hasn’t the capacity for emotion like a woman nor the coldness of a man.”
“Maybe she has both.”
“She is harmless.”
Nicholas chuckled, seized with genuine amusement. “Well. You know her better than I.”
