Lucy giggled and leaned back against the cushions, slapping at the feather. “Sherbourne, you are truly wonderful. I’ve not laughed so hard . . . ever, I believe.” Her eyes widened. “But how shall we get to my bedchamber without detection?”
“We will be detected, but we won’t care. In a little while, you’ll exclaim you’ve a new gown and hat, as well as some dress patterns my daughter would like, and we’ll move to your bedchamber for a nice, womanly coze.” His deep blue eyes looked into hers, still twinkling. How did he do that? “Then I’ll take off your dress to see for myself how perky your beautiful breasts truly are, then take you to bed and make love to you until you scream and I have to cover your mouth, for surely we couldn’t explain away your passionate, orgasmic cries when looking at dress patterns, now could we?”
Lucy stared.
“I vow, Lady Bonderant, you appear flabbergasted.”
“It seems extremely odd to become aroused by a matronly woman in purple satin, but I vow, I cannot wait to take off your dress.”
He pursed his painted bow lips and kissed the air. “Will you steal my rouge?”
Staring at his mouth, she was not laughing any longer. “I’ll lick it off very slowly.”
He wasn’t laughing either. “You’ve no idea how long the day became after I brought you and William home. I’ve got you in my blood, Lucy.”
She was gravitating toward him ever so slowly, until she caught herself and murmured, “Now, Sherbourne. I can’t playact another moment. We will go and see my new bonnet and have our coze now.” A movement caught her eye and she jerked her gaze to his lap, followed quickly by her hand. He was hot and hard beneath the satin and it was all she could do not to jerk his skirts up and straddle him. “Oh, God, I want this inside of me, so much.” She sprang from the sofa and said in a loud voice, “Mrs. Sherry, you must come and see my new walking gown and bonnet! I’ve also a box of dress patterns for you daughter . . . Imogene. Shall we adjourn to my bedchamber for a nice coze?”
He stood quickly, belying the sound of creaking knees.
She looked toward his skirts with a question in her eyes.
“Whalebone,” he whispered, then said loudly as he followed her to the door, “What a lovely idea, Lady Bonderant, and how kind you are to take me to your bosom as though we are old friends, too long parted. But we are old friends, in a manner of speaking, are we not? Of course we are! As I said to dear Mr. Sherry, it was a happy day, indeed, when I met you at Twykham’s summer solstice garden party, what has it been, now? Two years past? Such a dear thing you were, in your great hat and pretty summer gown. I vow, I envy your girlish figger, for I’m a veritable giant of a woman, although, of course, Mr. Sherry doesn’t mind, even if he’s scarcely to my shoulder, poor dear, and frequently accuses me of sitting upon him, which is most unfortunate and not at all the thing, but he seems to hide on occasion, and suddenly, there he is! Just where I sit. I say, His Grace, your brother, has done a lovely redecorate in this house, has he not? I don’t recall this wallpaper. Is it Chinese? Beautiful! By the by, I heard Blixford married this morning, which, of course explains why you are in town, but do tell, is he really married to Lady Jane Lennox? You must give me details, my dear! Ah, here we are, in your chamber. I vow, those portieres are stunning. I must discover Blixford’s decorator, because my house has become terribly dated, what with . . .” She closed the door and he stopped talking. He removed the turban and tossed it aside, along with his reticule and lorgnette, then reached out his arms, palms up, silently asking her to remove his gloves.
Lucy stepped close and bent her head to the task, fumbling in her haste. “Good heavens, Sherbourne, why ever did you purchase these gloves with all these infernal buttons?”
“So that you would stand very close to undo them and I could look down your dress.”
She jerked her gaze to his and saw that he was indeed, focused on her cleavage. “I like a man with a plan.” She went back to work and eventually, she had his gloves off. He turned his back to her and she concentrated on the buttons of the gown. When it fell away, she saw that the false bosom was actually sewn into the bodice, as were the padded hips. “How much did you have to pay a modiste for her silence?”
He stepped out of the dress and turned to face her, devoid of stays or chemise, just him in all his muscled, hairy, stiff-cocked glory. And stockings lined in whalebone, held up by garters above his knees. She bent to remove them, keenly aware of his very erect shaft just next to her hair.