Page 49 of A Proposition for the Comte
Chapter Eight
Violet saw Aurelian at a ball the day after Amaryllis had gone. Her guards were all still in place so that she knew he had not abandoned her entirely which was gratifying. The want and ache of her body for him wasn’t ebbing, but growing to a proportion where she could think of nothing else save him being inside her again. She was swollen with the need, breathless with it sometimes, all the moments of each day focused on appearing normal and sane.
Had he made her crazy with his instructions on the intimate arts? She longed for moonlight and nakedness and the way he took her mouth under his to make her forget the world and yet thought perhaps it would never happen again.
‘You are pensive tonight, Violet. I heard your sister-in-law has gone on an extended visit to Italy. Do you miss her?’
Antonia MacMillan next to her asked the question softly.
‘I do. The house seems very empty without her and the boys.’
‘You did not think to go with them?’
‘I mulled it over and then decided now was not quite the right time.’ Perhaps she should have simply cut her ties and left. Perhaps it was unwise, all this futile hope of something more between her and Aurelian de la Tomber, especially given the anger between them that seemed as prevalent as the lust.
Gregory MacMillan had come to stand beside them, his stock tied in a fashion that looked most complicated.
‘I hope that you will, as the most beautiful woman in the room, dance with me this evening, Lady Addington.’
Antonia admonished him with her fan. ‘I am not sure how to take that dismissal, brother. Were I more sensitive I might now never speak to you again.’
The arrival of a small group at the far end of the salon caught everyone’s attention. Aurelian de la Tomber flanked by the Lords Luxford and Thornton had people turning.
Tonight the waistcoat and jacket he wore were embroidered in fine black thread to create a pattern across the wool. He was a man whose ancient and aristocratic lineage showed across every line in his face and body and so very different from the one who had smiled down at her on her bed at her town house, his naked body bathed in moonlight.
She knew he saw her, though he did not come closer, a tight bunch of people in his vicinity keeping them talking.
Perhaps it was best that way after the fiasco in the park. The Earl of Thornton and Viscount Luxford were men of reputation in their own right and any gossip about Aurelian would as likely founder with the strength of their family ties supporting him. Perhaps that was why he had come, for surely of all men he would know how to use and sway society with ease.
It was a good half an hour later when Summerley Shayborne approached her. She had met both him and his beautiful wife at one or two of the smaller private social soirées earlier in the Season. Rumour had it that they had escaped back to Luxford Manor in Sussex as soon as was feasible and seldom left the place. The Major had been lauded on the Continent for being irreplaceable as Sir Arthur Wellesley’s first officer of intelligence and as such he was a hero here in England of the very first degree.
Up close he was as tall as Aurelian and almost as beautiful.
‘It is a pleasure to meet you again, Lady Addington. I hear you know my friend, Aurelian de la Tomber. It seems you have made quite an impression upon him.’
She blushed, something she could rarely remember doing before.
Antonia was observing her strangely, her eyes questioning, and Violet felt as if all the lies she had built to stand on were suddenly shattering beneath her feet.
Since arriving in London she had been in control of everything, showing others only what she wanted them to see. People liked her, admired her even, her resilience lauded and remarked upon.
No one understood the demons that lived inside and the constant nervous worry. The worry of being found out and pulled up before the courts, the wife of a man who was anything but careful in his dealings outside of the law. The worry, too, of losing even the roof over her head and no one else in the world to truly ask for help.
‘The Comte saved my life in Hyde Park four days ago. Did he tell you that?’
‘He did.’
‘The thing is, my lord, that I think he has placed himself in danger by doing so.’
Shayborne laughed at this. ‘If anyone can handle danger, I imagine it would be him.’
Other women had joined the group around Aurelian now, each more beautiful than the last, Antonia among them. ‘It seems that you may be right, Lord Luxford, for he has no shortage of admirers here.’
The Viscount looked straight at her, which was disconcerting. ‘I hear you also saved him a few weeks back from freezing to death one cold and snowy night?’
‘Well, perhaps it was not quite as dire as you say.’ She could feel Gregory MacMillan at her back, listening. ‘I picked him up outside the Barringtons’ ball and delivered him home.’
Shayborne tipped his head and smiled.
