Page 52 of An Affair with a Notorious Heiress
No, after being in his bed, she wouldn’t allow him to marry Gina. She could hardly fathom she was on the cusp of having an affair or how very much she was anticipating it. He’d had the right of it: she’d chosen the Nightingale Club because she had been willing to fall into bed with him.
Her reputation was ruined. No one here would ever marry her. When she returned to New York, it was quite possible someone there would be willing to take her to wife. But he never need know about her affair. And if she didn’t marry—shouldn’t a woman have some memories to carry with her as her hair turned silver? She suspected Rexton would give her memories to eclipse any others that might come along.
She looked up as Gina strolled into the room. “Good morning.”
Her sister smiled at her. “You look happy this morning.”
“I have some splendid news. Prepare your plate and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Setting aside the newspaper she’d not been reading because her attention kept drifting to Rexton, she waited on tenterhooks while Gina took various offerings from the sideboard before joining her at the table. A footman approached and poured her tea, then refilled Tillie’s cup. She added two lumps of sugar, stirred, and wondered how many lumps Rexton liked with his tea. How much would she learn about him during the coming nights?
“So what’s the news?” Gina asked.
“Lord Rexton will be taking you for a ride in the park this afternoon.” They’d worked out the details for the first outing before they parted ways last night. She’d been disappointed he hadn’t attempted to kiss her again, had acted as though he were barely interested in her. But then if he had kissed her, she didn’t know if she’d have been able to resist luring him into that bed. Why was it she was constantly thinking of his taking her?
“He’s going to start courting me again?” She shook her head. “Or pretending to as he was before?”
“It will be as it was before. Not a true courtship. He’s going to give you attention until you have a viable suitor, and is going to work diligently toward that end. I have no doubt you’ll be betrothed before Season’s end.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“I just am.”
Gina narrowed her eyes. “What have you done, Tillie?”
Worked to make amends. She’d spent so much of her youth thinking only about her own yearnings and desires. Now her sister was paying the price. But still she didn’t want Gina to know the true cost of what she’d arranged. “I met with him, spoke with him. We came to an understanding.”
“Which is?”
Gina, who always seemed so sweet and unassuming, could be doggedly determined when she set her mind to it. “I offered to put the arrangement he had with Uncle back into play.” Not entirely a lie, even if that wasn’t the final agreement.
Gina nibbled thoughtfully on the corner of her toast. “So you and I shall be going about with him again.”
“My absence will serve better. I don’t need to observe him with you as we now know his attentions were never true.”
“But other gentlemen’s might be. I still require your opinion.”
“I’ll observe when they call on you here.”
Gina skewed up her face into a very unattractive pout. “He likes you, you know. Something could come of that.”
He lusted after her. It was a very different thing. And something was going to come ofthat. She was rather ashamed by how much she was anticipating it. “I’ve alerted a groom to have your horse readied at two. He’ll also accompany you.”
“I still think you should be there as well.”
“It’s completely unnecessary.”
Unfortunately, the Marquess of Rexton did not agree.
He’d arrived early, so early that Gina was not yet ready. He had to have known she wouldn’t be. He’d then had the audacity to insist a servant fetch Tillie to keep him company while he waited in the parlor. She’d been a bit miffed by his high-handedness and had gone to join him simply to set him straight that they might be on the brink of having an affair, but he didn’t own her, she wasn’t going to come at his beck and call.
She’d arrived to discover keeping him company hadn’t been on his mind at all. But rather he’d anticipated that he’d have to convince her to join them.
She didn’t like at all that he’d made himself perfectly at home, had poured them each a glass of whisky, and now enjoyed his in a lazy manner, one shoulder pressed to the fireplace mantel, his gaze never leaving her as he swallowed the amber brew. And all she seemed capable of thinking was: I know what it tastes like on his tongue.
“My presence doesn’t encourage people to approach her,” she stated succinctly, her fingers tightening around her own glass, a defensive maneuver because they wanted to advance and brush from his brow some of the locks that were in danger of falling into his eyes.
“Is that what you want for her? Someone who is going to ostracize you?”
