Page 59 of A Courtesan Countess Worth the Scandal
In the silence that followed, Nora finally became aware of how close she was to Liam. In his hurry to wipe the tears from her face, she had pressed herself back against the writing desk, and he had stepped forward until he was almost flush against her. And her hands, pressed to his chest, were almost pressed back against hers, while he held her face with a gentleness she had never experienced.
Peering up into his eyes, she found no lust or hunger within them. Instead, he gazed at her in a way she had never been gazed at. He gazed at her as though she were the most precious thing in the world… a rare creature to be treated with care and affection, instead of roughness and brutality. And when his eyes flitted down to her lips, just for a moment, she knew exactly what he was thinking, for she was thinking it, too.
I want to kiss you. I want you to hold me again, like you did before. I want to feel your mouth on mine, and press myself even closer to you, until there’s no space between us.
“May I?” he whispered breathily.
She gave a small, slow nod of anticipation, as his head lowered, that soft, sweet mouth moving closer to hers. Seconds before his lips touched hers, he pulled away as though he had been stung, his hands snatching back from her face.
“What am I doing?” His forehead furrowed in consternation. “You just told me that a gift means expectation, and here I am, asking if I might…” he trailed off, looking thoroughly disgusted with himself. “Forgive me, Nora. Please… forgive me.” Without another word, he ran out of the room, not realizing that she had wanted to feel his kiss just as much as he wanted to kiss her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
For the following two weeks, Liam did his utmost to avoid Nora. Fortunately, he had preparations for the ball to occupy his mind, and he spent most of his days instructing the servants, or merely watching them as they arranged decorations and brought the menus to him to approve. He knew his aunt, particularly, would feel affronted to find out that he had involved himself in the organization, but he did not much care.
As for the evenings, Denninson and Carlton did a splendid job of keeping him entertained in his study with brandy and cigars, while the Black family amused themselves in the drawing room. By the time the gentlemen moved into the drawing room to join the ladies, they were already making excuses to retire to their chambers.
However, he knew he could not avoid Nora forever. The guests would be arriving this evening for the ball, where he would have to put on a show of being a newly married groom, parading his new bride for all to see.
As such, on that gloomy afternoon, several hours before the first guests would be eager to begin the revels, Liam finally steeled himself and sought Nora out.
“Blenkinsopp, have you seen my wife?” Liam hailed a footman, who was in the middle of hanging garlands around the entrance hall.
The footman arched a curious eyebrow. “I’ve never seen her, M’Lord. Only heard of her.”
“Ah… I mean my current wife,” Liam replied, his gut roiling with discomfort. The servants had all been informed of the lie, and though Liam thought he had done a rather good job of making it sound believable, they had all, almost without exception, given him a dubious look in return. It seemed, in this house, his secrets were not so well hidden.
The footman gave a stilted nod. “Oh, aye, she went upstairs with one of the maids about an hour ago.”
“Thank you, Blenkinsopp.” Liam turned to leave, only to turn back again. “Have my Aunt and Uncle arrived back yet?”
The footman shook his head. “No, M’Lord.”
“Has there been news of them?” It seemed odd to Liam that they would leave it so late to return to a ball that they were throwing, and he was growing more eager to see his uncle, so he could inform him of the ruse prior to the celebrations. After all, he did not want his uncle to wonder what on Earth was going on, for Liam had not been “married” when they had last seen one another.
The footman shook his head again. “No, M’Lord, but I heard tell from the gardener that there’s snow on the road between here and Carlisle that’s stopping horses and carriages from gettin’ through. Might be, they’re stuck, or they’re takin’ a slower path.”
“Well… if you do hear anything, please inform me as soon as possible.” Exasperated, Liam headed for the staircase. As he mounted the steps, his mind turned to those particular secrets that he had hoped to keep buried.
How much do the servants know? Surely, they do not know everything?
After that night, five years ago, Liam’s uncle had promised to rid the household of all witnesses and pay a handsome sum for their silence. Sure enough, Liam had not seen a single servant he recognized from those days, and no one had mentioned Élodie. And yet, there was something about the way the servants whispered, and the way they looked at Nora whenever she passed, that made him uneasy.
What if the money was not enough to buy their silence? What if they have passed on my terrible secret? No… even then, they would not know everything. Would they?
Doing his best to shake off those growing concerns, he made his way to the top of the stairs, before turning left toward Nora’s bedchamber. However, not before his eyes darted in the direction of the black curtain that had been draped across the corridor where Élodie had once had her bedchamber. He shuddered at the sight of it, imagining he could still hear her wailing.
Whirling around, he hurried for Nora’s chambers, eager to put some distance between himself and those bad memories.
At her door, he knocked politely.
“Come in,” came Nora’s reply.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. Before he could venture further into the room, however, he came to a sharp halt and all of the breath he had just inhaled rushed out of his lungs.
Nora stood by the window, wearing an exquisite gown of coral satin, with lacy, capped sleeves and a golden-hued ribbon beneath her bust that accentuated her well-rounded silhouette. Her bosom rose and fell with her every breath, revealing the shapely contours of her smooth, pale breasts. Indeed, as he continued to stare in awe, he was quite certain he could see the slight protrusions of her nipples, roused by the cold.
What in Heaven’s name are you thinking? For one, her stays would conceal such things. For two, you should not be looking at her… breasts!
