Page 22 of A Promising Little Scandal (Sensual Scandals)

She didn’t halt her footsteps until she was across the street and safely inside her own rooms at the Royal Lion. Her maid had been slumped over in a chair asleep, but when the door slammed, she jerked awake. She took one look at her mistress and her face paled in alarm. “My lady!”

Calliope waved off her concern. “I’m fine. It’s time for bed,” she added crisply.

The maid quickly gathered Calliope’s nightdress and helped her out of her gown and underclothes.

Calliope managed to hold herself together until the maid retired for the evening and she slipped beneath the covers. There, she put her fisted hand to her mouth and bit down on her knuckles to keep from screaming at her own stupidity.

Thank goodness tomorrow was a new day.

Sebastian passed a sleepless night. He tossed and turned, seeing Calliope and her mesmerizing, emerald eyes upon him. She invaded his dreams with that tempting mouth and that glorious red hair. Every time he closed his eyes, he couldn’t dismiss the image of her beneath him, surrounding him, as he slid into her wet heat. The fantasy of her sucking his cock until he released into her eager mouth had him clenching his teeth and groaning into his handkerchief by his own hand when it was still dark outside.

After he’d pleasured himself, he’d been able to rest, but only for short periods of time. His body was on fire for Calliope and knowing that she was so close, yet at the same time, so impossibly far away, was akin to torture. He hadn’t been this randy for a woman since his days in Eton when he’d ran rampant about the city searching for a willing whore to spread her legs. Looking back, he realized that he didn’t remember any of the women he’d lain with before. They had been a means to an end, an outlet for his lust. Calliope would be more than just a temporary release. When he thought of her sharing his bed, he didn’t want it to be a single coupling, but endless days and nights where they lay tangled in each other’s arms. He would love her slowly and deeply, until the passion became too much to contain and then he would take her with a swift coupling. With that fiery hair, and the intensity he’d already witnessed, there was no doubt in his mind that she would be a zealous lover. He would never tire of her fire, nor her delectable body that teased him beneath all those layers. The true treasure wasn’t among the cliffs at Lyme Regis but found beneath those well-fitting gowns.

With the dawn, he finally gave up any further pretense of trying to gain any more rest and got up. He ordered a hot bath and soaked in the copper tub until it began to cool. After he’d dried off, he tucked the linen around his waist and used his razor to begin clearing away the golden stubble covering his jawline.

Once he was finished, he gathered his clothes and got dressed. Only when he was satisfied with his appearance – black trousers, a bottle-green waistcoat with gold trim and a matching velvet jacket, and a white cravat – did he decide to check on his grandfather in the adjoining chamber.

He rapped sharply on the door and when there was a gruff command from the other side, he walked through. “Good morning.”

The marquess narrowed his eyes as he sat up in bed, still attired in his night clothes. “You seem in good humor this morning.” It didn’t sound like a compliment, so Sebastian merely waited. “I suppose you’re looking forward to seeing that gel.”

He crossed his arms and leaned against a nearby wall and shoved aside the urge to sigh. “And if I am?”

“Bah!” His grandfather threw his arms into the air. His cane was beside him, and Sebastian wondered if he was so upset that he forgot to thump it on the floor. He pointed a finger at him. “That one is trouble, mark my words! She will cause you nothing but heartache and despair.”

Sebastian shrugged. “Anything in life is a risk.”

“Now is not the time to be foolish,” his grandfather admonished. “You’ve sown your wild oats. Your duty is to your line. If you must swive this chit, do it and let’s return to London where you can find a proper wife who is eager to become a viscountess.”

Sebastian sobered instantly. “I would use caution how you speak of Lady Calliope. She is not a loose woman, but from a good and established family.”

“Oh, yes, I am quite familiar with Marlington.” The marquess spat the former duke’s title as if it left a sour taste upon his tongue. “The ‘Black Widower,’ they called him. Four wives that all died under mysterious circumstances.”

Sebastian stilled. “I hope you’re not inferring what I think you are.”

“I’ve read the accounts through the years,” the marquess admitted. “If you ask me, there’s far too many coincidences for that man to be innocent of any wrongdoing.”

His voice was flat when he returned, “I don’t suppose it matters any longer, as he is dead and buried.”

“That may be, but certain tendencies pass through the bloodline, and to hear that gel speak as she did last night—” He shook his head. “In my day, she would have been considered fit for Bedlam, and rightly so.”

“I thought you, of all people, might have appreciated her bold approach.”

“Within reason!” The cane slammed against the floor, no longer forgotten. “I know you’re led by your cock, but you must use sense before it’s too late.”

“On that note, I believe I shall take my leave.” Sebastian returned evenly, finished with his irrational ranting. “Perhaps when I return, we can have a normal conversation.”

With that, he departed.

Although Calliope did her best to pretend as though Lord Blakely’s presence didn’t unnerve her the next day when she joined Mary on the beach, she could tell right away that something was bothering him. The day before he’d been quite engaging, but this morning he was distracted and a perpetual frown seemed to have taken up residence between his brows.

Granted, his reluctance to engage in conversation with her might have been because they had almost kissed. But then, maybe that’s what she thought because it was the reason she was distracted. Thus far, she’d already passed by two ammonites without realizing it. Thank goodness Mary had a keen eye, because she had gathered the fossils in her stead.

Calliope was about to give up on her own search for the day and return to the hotel when Lord Blakely approached her. “I need to speak with you,” he said brusquely.

Normally flirtatious, his serious tone concerned her. Since her curiosity was burning more than her uncertainty that moment, she said, “Of course.” They walked in silence for a while, far enough away to allow their companions to be well out of earshot.

When they were a safe distance away, Calliope was the first to speak. “You seem a bit distant this morning, my lord. Is there something troubling you?”

---