Page 73 of An Affair with a Notorious Heiress
She flicked at him again. “Tomorrow. Per our terms I come to you the day after an outing. You didn’t escort her anywhere yesterday.”
“I should think after last night you’d want to amend those terms.”
She did. She wanted to amend them so she had to go to him whether or not there was an outing. “I think it best if we stick with the original agreement.”
“Have pity on me, witch. Surely you’ll not leave me to ache all night.”
Never had she possessed such power. It lifted her to such heights that she felt dizzy. She’d long yearned to be so wanted, so desired. “My absence tonight will ensure our time together tomorrow is all the more appreciated.”
“I’m more than willing to show ample appreciation tonight.”
The bubble of laughter that burst out of her had her slapping her wet hand over her mouth. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d made such a joyful noise. Lowering her hand, she stared at it as though it might explain where the sound had come from.
Suddenly his hand was beneath her chin, tilting up her face until their eyes met. He was leaning toward her, as though drawn, captured, and snagged by the sound. “You don’t do that often enough,” he said quietly.
I never do it. Not in years. Not since I married.She’d catalogued everything Downie had taken from her, and somehow she’d overlooked this. She’d once been as joyful and carefree as Gina. He’d turned her into something withered and old.
“Tomorrow night you’re going to do it again, longer, louder, if I have to tickle you from head to toe to make it happen.”
He would, too. She was rather certain of it. But she couldn’t let him have that, not so easily. “Good luck with that. I’m not ticklish in the least.”
His grin made her wish they had indeed altered the terms of their arrangement, that tonight she would see him. “You’ve never been tickled by me.”
The promise in his words both terrified and excited her.Don’t, she nearly pleaded,don’t change me, don’t do anything to make me lonelier than I already am.
But she feared it was too late to beg anything of him.
Chapter 15
Rexton didn’t know why he kept searching for her, why every time he spied silky black hair out of the corner of his eye, he turned hoping to see her. Tillie wasn’t at the ball. He understood her reasons, hated that they existed.
He escorted Gina around the ballroom, enticed a few gents into signing her dance card, spoke flatteringly of her, hinted she’d make a wonderful complement to any lord’s arm—without insinuating she’d spend the remainder of her life on his. He waltzed with her, then left her in his sister’s keeping, asking Grace to see that she was partnered for other dances. Being in the overstuffed ballroom made him feel as though his waistcoat was too tight.
Walking through the ballroom, he’d never in his life wanted to be anywhere else so badly. The odd thing was he’d be more content sitting in a parlor sipping whisky with Tillie, asking after her day, talking books, weather, or horses. Or simply enjoying her company in silence. It was strange, how often he thought of her, how he wondered what she was doing now, how he wished she was with him. He wanted her near, fully clothed, smiling up at him, her hand resting on his arm. He wasn’t quite sure when he’d begun spending as much time envisioning being with her outside his bed as in it.
It was an unsettling realization. Their association was going to be short-lived. She’d set a time for it to end. Even if he could convince her to extend it—which he was fairly certain he could do with a bit of tender persuasion—she deserved more than an illicit affair. She could find a permanent relationship in America, but here, her scandalous past limited her opportunities. Even if he overlooked the scandal of her divorce, he couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t taint their children. He knew what it was to be the offspring of a woman not completely embraced by Society. Even when it appeared everyone loved his mother, he’d still heard the ugly whispered words, been the recipient of snubs. He wouldn’t wish it on his children.
Stepping onto the terrace, he inhaled deeply the cool evening air and wandered over to a darkened corner. If Tillie were here, he’d kiss her in these shadows or perhaps they’d stroll into the gardens, eventually wandering off the path for a secluded seduction. She seduced him as ferociously as he did her. He’d missed her the night before, missed not having her in his bed. After only one night with her, how was it that a night without her had loomed like a great gaping maw of emptiness?
He would have her tonight and tomorrow. And the night after that because he was not going to allow a single afternoon or evening to pass without escorting Gina somewhere: to the park, to a museum, to a ball. Even if for only an hour. He would meet the minimum terms so Tillie was obligated to come to him.
Hearing the strike of a match, he looked over to see Landsdowne standing nearby lighting a cheroot, the flame illuminating features Rexton was of a mind to rearrange. He was surprised by the absolute abhorrence of the man that skittered through him. The earl had failed to appreciate what he had, and in so doing, he’d effectively ruined Tillie’s chance for happiness. At least on this side of the Atlantic. Perhaps she’d find happiness on the other. But she’d find it without him, and he was no longer certain he could find it without her.
Landsdowne extinguished the flame with a rapid waving of his hand, inhaled deeply, and blew out a stream of smoke. “Care for one, old boy?”
Only then did Rexton realize he’d been glaring at the man since he became alerted to his presence. “No.”
“I see you’re still hanging on to Gina’s skirts. Without Mathilda in tow tonight.”
“As you’re well aware, she’s no longer invited into parlors, grand salons, and dining rooms.”
“As well a woman of her low moral character shouldn’t be. I did hear you were seen rowing with her.”
“Your point?”
“If you have any hope of having Gina accepted, you’d do best to keep her disgusting sister in the shadows.”
Rexton moved swiftly, grabbing Landsdowne by the lapels and giving him a shake. The cheroot went flying. “You will cease your disparaging remarks regarding Tillie.”
