He was quiet for a while, considering, she supposed.
“This conversation has taken a decidedly interesting turn. Do you mean to say you would consider marrying me? We’ve not known one another long at all.”
She raised up on her elbow and gazed down at him. “I suppose it is a bit presumptuous of us to talk of marriage. But you won’t take me as a mistress, and I don’t wish to return to my matronly life of loneliness, so what’s the alternative?”
His expression was sober. “Perhaps you should send for William and stay in London a few weeks, as we discussed earlier. I’ll honor my promise to escort you out and about, and we’ll arrange to meet privately on occasion. After a fortnight, perhaps this attraction will become less . . . intense, and we’ll be able to judge the situation with cooler heads. I’d also like for you to take a look around, perhaps single out a gentleman you’d find desirable as a husband. A younger gentleman.”
Admittedly, she didn’t pay close attention to all he suggested, rather focusing on his willingness to arrange for additional private meetings. She was delighted and said so. “Do you suppose we might try some different things, Sherbourne?”
His eyes widened. “You’re serious?”
Slightly embarrassed, though not enough to back up and deny her seriousness, she dropped her head to his shoulder and nodded. “I’ve no doubt you have a great lot of experience in these matters. Would it bother you to teach me what I beg to learn?”
He chuckled then and held her closer. “It wouldn’t be a bother, I assure you, but I’ll be curious to see how far you’re willing to go in your education.”
“I look forward to laying your curiosity to rest.”
His chuckle became a laugh. “You’ll be the death of me, won’t you? I’ll die in the midst of a lesson and be sent straight to Hell for debauching an innocent woman.”
“Innocent, indeed!” If he only knew. Yes, she was physically still quite innocent of anything beyond coupling, always beneath, usually in the dark, but mentally, she was not at all naïve. She wondered, yet again, what he would think if he knew of her books?
She further wondered if her interest in erotic writing and drawing would wane after today, after a fortnight of intimacies with Sherbourne? She suspected it might. They had served to sustain her since Matthew’s death, but with a living, breathing, very virile male in her bed, she thought words and drawings upon paper would definitely pale in comparison.
“I’ll send for William as soon as I return to Blix’s house in Cavendish Square.”
“Please make use of my footman, and send your request from here. While we await his arrival, we’ll have luncheon, and then perhaps enjoy a drive in the park. Or a ride, if you prefer.” He shot her a concerned look. “You do ride, Lucy?”
She laughed. Had she ever laughed this much? “Being that you’re a very accomplished horseman, it would sound the death knell to your interest in me if I didn’t, so I’m fortunate to say that yes, indeed, I do ride. I’ve been told I’ve an excellent seat, so I shall ride with you this afternoon and bravely bear your scrutiny.”
“Death knell? I think not.” His hand dropped to her thigh and slowly made its way to the apex, where he drove a finger within and waggled it about, grinning as she squirmed beneath him. “If you didn’t ride, I would teach you. If you do not ride well, I will teach you to do so. I believe I’m going to enjoy teaching you a great many things.” He kissed her again, still grinning.
“I’ll enjoy learning.” Her eyes widened. “But, Sherbourne, I’ve only just realized, I don’t have a suitable mount.”
He leaned over her, his fingers continuing to fondle her while he smiled into her eyes. “I’ve just the mount for you, m’lady.”
Lucy stared up at him and sighed happily. “I’ve no doubt, my lord, no doubt at all.”
Chapter 8
Jane couldn’t fathom what had come over her. As they traveled along the Dover road, she tried to enjoy the splendid spring day, the plentiful sunshine and new growth all around. She conversed with Blixford, who was being a dear, really, talking far more than was his wont, undoubtedly attempting to put her at ease, but she was only half listening to him, her mind unable to let go of worry.
She hadn’t told him, would never tell him, the truth to what happened in Scotland. Yes, she’d been willing, up until a point. Regrettably, she learned there is a moment in a man’s time when he might still leave off, and once that point is past, he’s compelled to finish things. MacDougal hurt her far more than his betrayal. She’d felt torn to bits, and thinking of the act occurring once again was frightening in the extreme.