Page 44 of Lord Ashley's Beautiful Alibi
“Shall we go east to the Louvre, around and back?”
“A fine plan.” The click of his silver utensils on his china filled the void. “Should we have our coachman pause before Notre Dame?”
He wanted details of where and when he’d kiss her? “Fine.”
He gazed up from beneath the cover of those long, lush lashes. “You prefer another place?”
Couldn’t the act just be…spontaneous?
He cocked his head.
“No.” All planned. Very well. Their scheme demanded he do it in the most crowded public place. She attacked her omelet.
“I have a landau,” he said at length after he’d put down his fork and knife. “But I suggest you bring a parasol.”
“I can. But we should put the top up anyway.”
He stared at her.
She could almost hear him tell her that privacy defeated the purpose of their drive. But the seclusion would give more spice to any gossip’s tale.
She smiled at him, hoping he’d go along. “Men wear all those layers of clothing. Wool, even in this weather. Putting up the top will help. I don’t want you to get too hot.”
He took his time, chewing his food and stifling his laughter. Was he always so controlled, or was it just her who made him quirky?
“I have refreshment in the carriage for us. We won’t get overheated.” He gathered up his serviette. “If you are done, we should go.”
*
Gus could notescape their pact. Her nerves were unnecessary. If she thought he was going to push her into an affair, she was wrong. He was no cad.
But he would let her stew. They had been out for at least an hour and the sun was glaring down. He crossed one leg over the other as he sat facing her and trying, mightily as he could, to avoid gazing at her too long.
She sat like a delicacy against the overstuffed autumnal-brown squabs. A cream and pink confection in an apple-green frosting, she should be plucked and eaten.
He swallowed a groan. Her gown was a pale green, festooned with so much lace that she might as well have worn an iron maiden for her protection. But the cotton—he thanked the modiste—betrayed her. The fabric hugged her breasts like frothyblancmange. A trickle of perspiration wended down her cleavage and formed a tempting arrow toward her hips.
He could dream, couldn’t he?
But they had matters to discuss…before they got to the real business here today.
He told his cock to take a holiday and went to work. “You have not told your aunt we go away together, have you?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“She will object.”
“I see. To me? Why?”
Gus threw back her head, and the neat white feathers in her little hat fluttered against her blue-black hair. “She likes you. But she wishes me to remain as I am.” Her green eyes danced. “Pure. White. Snow. She only wishes to protect me from rogues.”
He smacked his lips. They went around the Louvre and headed toward Notre Dame. He had to pry. His safety and hers depended on his knowing every detail. “She does not know why you truly go away with me, does she?”
“No.” She sat forward and skewered him with her gaze. “And before you ask me why she does not know that, I will tell you it is because she likes Amber. Very much, actually. Loves her equally to me. But she will not appreciate that I am compelled to find her.”
He wondered on the ramifications of that. “There is more to that. Tell me.”
