Page 35 of The Secret Life of a Lady
Her stomach flipped uncertainly. Blood pulsed through her veins. Tingles of awareness sparked in her fingers, the base of her throat, and the apex of her thighs.
Damnation!
How could a half-smile from across the room make her body react so strongly? Her gaze locked on his lips. She remembered their texture, soft and firm, as he pressed his mouth to hers. It had only been a week since the ball, but it felt like eternity.
Since she made her scandalous proposal to Lord Killian, minuscule progress had been made. She confessed her proposition to Philippa the night she made it. For the first time in ten years, Hannah regretted being honest with her patroness. Philippa was all encouragement when she thought Hannah showed no interest in the Duke of Covington, but as soon as Philippa became aware of Hannah’s arrangement, the duchess turned into a fearsome she-wolf guarding her cub. It was ridiculous. Hannah was not some innocent creature needing supervision.
Still, if something didn’t happen soon, she would be needing a cold bath. At times, she worried she would melt from the smouldering thoughts consuming her about the devilishly handsome Lieutenant General.
The result of Philippa’s sudden adherence to social conventionswas three visits from Lord Killian culminating in nothing more scandalous than a brief kiss in the garden before they were interrupted by Stokes.
Philippa might think she was shielding Hannah, but her newly found protective streak only made Hannah more determined to follow her set course. She was a woman of four and twenty with no plans to marry. Philippa had given her permission to explore her passions, and if she wanted to engage in a physical affair, that was her prerogative. She had no expectations beyond that and no intention of involving her emotions. Therefore, no harm could come of her save the damage to her reputation if they were discovered. Philippa already said she didn’t care about that, so Hannah’s venture held little risk.
Hannah thought again of Killian’s promise to offer marriage if he breached her maidenhead. It was equal parts ridiculous and infuriating. A man wasn’t expected to marry all the women he bedded. Indeed, every gentleman in England would be a bigamist if that were the case. So why should such a demand of constraint be placed upon her?
His offer might stem from some ridiculous sense of honour, but no joy could be found in a forced union inspired by something as inconstant as passion and infuriating as obligation. Hannah wasn’t even sure she wanted to take their explorations so far. But if she did, it would not result in marriage.
She was certain two missions would be accomplished by the end of the fortnight. Finding Sarah Bright’s murderer and satisfying her physical desires for Lieutenant General Robert Killian.
She would start her second mission immediately.
Before Hannah could approach Lord Killian, Millie and Ivy rushed over in a flurry of pastel skirts.
Ivy reached out both hands to clasp Hannah’s. ‘I’m so delighted you’re here, Hannah.’
Millie towered over her friend. ‘Whatareyou wearing? Did someone recently die? Should we be extending our condolences?’
Hannah looked down at her dress. ‘No.’
‘Millie! Ignore her, Hannah. You look lovely.’ Ivy slapped her friend’s arm.
‘Your face looks lovely. And your hair. Your dress is dreadful.’ Millie’s gaze traversed Hannah’s unfortunate dress.
Hannah stifled an unladylike snort at her friend’s brutal honesty. ‘I like my clothes.’
Millie frowned at Hannah. ‘Dowdy dresses of a matron with no taste and very little income?’
‘Millie!’ Ivy hit her friend again.
‘What? I’m being helpful. Hannah, how can you possibly seduce the delicious Duke of Covington when you’re dressed like my least favourite governess? Ugh! Do you remember her, Ivy? She reeked of pickled onions. I swear she must have smuggled them around in her pockets.’
The butler entered the drawing room and announced dinner. Lord Killian approached as heat pooled low in Hannah’s belly. She willed her hands to remain steady as he extended his arm to her.
‘May I escort you to dinner?’
Millie raised an eyebrow several shades darker than her fiery hair, and Ivy covered her grin with a gloved hand.
Hannah cleared her suddenly dry throat. ‘That would be lovely, Your Grace.’ She placed her hand on his arm and breathed deep to catch the scent of bergamot and leather.
Killian dipped his head closer to her ear as they followed the group into the dining room. ‘I have a favour to ask of you.’ His voice was intimately low.
Hannah kept her gaze straight ahead by sheer force of will. ‘I’m intrigued,’ she murmured.
‘Send your maid to bed before midnight, and keep your door unlocked.’
Hannah tightened her grip on his arm. ‘That’s two favours.’
‘Will you do it? Please?’ There was a desperate growl in his voice.
