Page 22 of Mentor to the Marquess
His hand twitched, but she held him still as she clawed herself back from the edge of release. It had been months since she had been with a man who had truly satisfied her, much less a man of such a large stature. She distantly wondered if the rest of him was as impressive.
“What now?” he asked.
“Use your mouth and tongue in the same way you used your fingers,” she replied. Merely speaking the words, voicing her demands, made her squirm.
He returned to her sex, peeling her apart layer by layer, before spearing inside her with his tongue in a sudden movement that had her back arching.
She squirmed, wanting more pressure, and he obligingly pressed harder. She was close, but it still wasn’t enough.
There was, however, one thing that always worked.
She reached beneath the many layers of fabric. Without her having to ask, he gave her space, smoothing his palm along her thigh with one hand and freeing his cock with the other.
Knowing he was aroused by watching her pleasure herself was enough to push her over the edge. She clenched her muscles tight and spiraled into completion.
Chapter 12
The lights hanging from the boughs of the trees lining the path twinkled like stars, but as far as Olivia was concerned, they were nothing but dim flashes in the dark, and the vibrant flowers blooming around her were dull and lifeless.
She had selected the event from among the pile of invitations on Thel’s desk with the assurances that the Duke of Haversham was a friend of his family. It seemed fitting, given that Mrs. Zephyr had only stepped aside when Thel had mentioned the duke’s name. But despite Thel’s nonchalance, her stomach twisted as they approached the entrance to the sprawling grounds behind Thel’s parents and daughter.
Constance glanced over her shoulder, looking every inch her rank in a sapphire evening gown with a heart-shaped neckline and her hair braided and wrapped around her head like a crown. It was only when she tucked a golden curl between her lips that Olivia realized something might have been wrong. Then the duchess leaned toward her granddaughter, and they shared a whispered conversation. Constance met Olivia’s gaze, and her cheeks pinkened. She directed a nasty scowl at Olivia, plucked the lock of hair from her mouth, and turned around, her head tilted higher.
“Did you see that?” Olivia asked Thel. The expression on Constance’s face had held such malice. What had the duchess said to elicit such a reaction?
Thel looked around. “See what?”
“Your mother said something to Constance that made her look at me like…” She wasn’t sure how to describe how the brief exchange had unsettled her.
Then they were next in line to be introduced, and Olivia’s anxiety washed all other concerns away.
Her name was not on the guest list. She had seen ladies arrive at the doors of grand events, only to be turned away in disgrace. Such a cut might damage her reputation beyond saving.
She froze as they reached a wooden arch covered in pink and white roses. Her fingers clenched around Thel’s arm. She tried to summon the cool confidence that was the hallmark of Lady Allen, but her feet refused to budge.
“Wait here,” Thel whispered. He pried her fingers from his sleeve and walked over to a small podium she had not noticed in the shadows, where a footman was standing. The two men shared a quiet conversation before Thel returned.
“What did you do?” she asked.
“Smoothed the way,” he said. Then he tugged her forward.
She reluctantly followed him, even as prickling started in her fingers and crept up her arms. She did not know which outcome would be worse: if she entered without her name being announced, or if she was turned away before anyone noticed she had arrived.
She was so focused on keeping her expression carefully neutral that she tripped over her own feet. Thel caught her before she could stumble forward. She was about to thank him when a footman standing near the door spoke over her.
“The Duke and Duchess of Hestia, the Marquess of Lowell, the Lady Constance Vaith, and the Countess Dowager Allen.”
The tight coil in her stomach released. Whatever Thel had done had worked. None of the other guests had any reason to doubt she had been invited.
A handful of curious guests lingering near the arch glanced her way. She tensed, expecting whispers and snide comments, but she heard no snickering or snap of fans opening. The few ladies who met her gaze only widened their eyes and stepped aside. After the third time this happened, she leaned closer to Thel and whispered, “When was the last time your parents attended social events?”
He shrugged. “My mother prefers to spend her days in the country.”
That explained it. The presence of the duke and duchess after such a long absence was enough to draw attention away from her. While she remained with them, she was sheltered from scandal. The lack of muttering made her feel as if she had been transported back in time to before the articles had begun. It should have brought relief, but there was a gnawing hollowness in her stomach.
If it were not for her, their granddaughter might never have been targeted. It was her fault there was conflict in their family, and she was taking advantage of their goodwill by riding along on their coattails.
They traversed the garden without incident and arrived at a grand marble staircase that led into the house. The duke and duchess proceeded up the steps toward the muted sound of an orchestra, but as Olivia made to follow them, Constance tugged her arm. The girl’s face was pale, and her eyes were so wide, the whites were visible all around her irises. The vulnerable expression on her face was so different from the scowl the girl had given her in the receiving line that Olivia was rendered speechless. Which was the act: the innocent girl Olivia was seeing now, or the girl she’d glimpsed earlier?
