Page 52 of One Perfect Dance
Chapter Twenty
Regina looked atherself in the mirror, wondering whether the change she felt was visible on the outside. Her hair had lost its pins in her drawing room, and now tumbled about her shoulders. Her lips were slightly swollen from Elijah’s kisses.
Apart from that, the physical differences remained hidden beneath the robe she had donned when she stripped off her gown. Her breasts, which Elijah had caressed with his hands and then his mouth, felt swollen, the nipples drawn into tight sensitive nubs. The cotton of her chemise abraded them as she moved, and it was delicious.
Her miniscule experience had not led her to expect such delights, though Gideon had assured her they awaited if she ever chose to take a lover. Since she had not, Deffew’s assault just before her father’s death had remained her only measure of romantic intimacy until Elijah’s first kiss a few days ago.
As wonderful as that had been, it had not prepared her for tonight’s pleasures.
Lower down, her womanly place—untouched by any man—was also swollen, soft, and warm. It ached, and the ache was both a void and a pleasure. She knew what filled it. Gideon had explained how mating worked between men and women. She had not liked the sound of it, and since she knew Gideon had only theoretical knowledge—she did not want to think about his actual experience—she had ignored his assurances and assumed it would be something to endure rather than to crave.
Curse Elijah’s gentlemanly forbearance! Or, perhaps, curse her own innocence. Elijah had kissed and caressed her until every particle of her flesh was putty in his hands, yearning for more, and then muttered something about respect and taking their time, and put her from him.
“I would love to continue this, Ginny,” he had said, and the fervency in his eyes confirmed his words. “I will, if you will permit, when it is the right time. But for now, I had better walk home and hope for a cold shower of rain to restore me to some sort of decency. For I am utterly wrecked.”
“Me, too,” had been the only words she could manage. When would be the right time? She was ready now, bother it.
She was so absorbed in her thoughts, she did not at first register that a dull and distant thud, repeated half a dozen times in quick succession, was the knocker on her front door. A caller? At this time of night?
Perhaps it was just that Geoffrey had forgotten his key, though his note had said he would not be home tonight. Regina pulled the robe more tightly around herself and walked out onto the landing to listen.
Another swift cascades of raps, and then the voice of her first footman. “Yes?”
The voices drifted up through the stair well.
“I must see Mrs. Paddimore,” the caller said, through heaving pants, as if he had run a great distance.
“Mrs. Paddimore has retired for the night,” Charles replied. “Would you care to leave a message?”
“No, you don’t understand,” pleaded the caller. “It’s her son. There’s been an accident. I’m here to take her to him.”
Regina was hurrying down the stairs as soon as she heard the wordson.
“Wait on the step. I will send a maid to rouse her,” Charles told the caller, as she came down around the last landing.
She was speaking before the caller came fully into sight. “Geoffrey has been in an accident? What has happened? Is he much hurt? Have you sent for a doctor?”
He was a young man, perhaps a year or two older than Geoffrey. He was undeniably handsome, with pale skin and blue eyes. The dark curls under the hat he removed when he saw her had a white streak just above the temples. His greatcoat swung open over a gentleman’s casual wear—pantaloons, Hessian boots, and a coat high cut at the front over a colorful waistcoat. The waistcoat and the immaculately tied cravat hinted at pretensions to dandyism.
His eyes lit up when he saw Regina. “Mrs. Paddimore? I have come to fetch you to your son, ma’am. We think he may have broken his leg. We have sent for a doctor. He is conscious, ma’am, or he was when I left him. He is asking for you.”
“What happened? No. You can tell me on the way. I must dress. Charles, send my maid to me immediately.” Regina turned away, then remembered her manners.
“Do you need a drink? A place to sit down? Charles will see to you.” She blinked and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I do not know your name.”
The young man flashed a charming smile as he performed an incongruously formal bow. “I expect Padders—Geoffrey, that is—has mentioned me? Please, call me Chalky.” He gestured to his white streak and waggled his eyebrows. “Hence…”
Surely, he would not be so relaxed if Geoffrey was badly hurt?“I will return immediately.”
*
The hackney wascramped and none too clean. Regina decided it was best not to speculate about the origin of the stale odors, some of which emanated from the youth next to her, who lurched against her with each tip and turn of the carriage.
To take her mind off the close quarters as much as to satisfy her burning need to know more, she peppered Chalky with questions. His answers were charming, fulsome, and almost devoid of any actual information.
Alarm on her own account slowly rose through her concern for Geoffrey. What proof did she have that her son was injured, or even that this boy knew him? Yet she had climbed into this hackney without any thought, leaving Charles behind, not even asking for the address to which they headed so that Charles would know where to send help.
Though if Chalky had lied about the rest, he could have given a false address.
