Nellie thought of Charles’s passionate kiss, the promise it held, and just smiled.
Drusilla abruptly turned her back. A glossy black ringlet dancing near her ear, she continued her conversation with the two men who had been fawning over her.
Later, curled up on the chaise longue in her bedchamber with Peter on her lap, Nellie wasn’t quite so confident that their kiss meant anything to Charles. She had reached out with the need to draw close to him, and he’d obliged. Perhaps he’d later regretted she’d led him into an indiscretion. He was attracted to her. The knowledge warmed her, but how long would it last? Men, such as Charles, would seek variety, and she was a virgin with only a dim notion of what people did together. While Nellie considered she had much more to offer than what happened between couples in the bedchamber, she would make sure he was not disappointed. She must listen more carefully to Marian.
*
Charles dismissed Feeley. Dressed in a banyan, he sat by a small fire with Plato’s Symposium in his hands. Although it was a favorite of his, he had been unable to take in a word. He grinned and shook his head. He’d long suspected Nellie would surprise him. What he hadn’t anticipated was his own loss of control. At a soiree? He hadn’t succumbed to kissing ladies at parties since he’d been a green youth!
On returning home, he sought the calm of his study, then left after a few minutes, having failed to settle. Undoubtedly, there was a powerful attraction between him and Nellie, which he’d felt from the first moment of meeting her. Was this the way his life would be? At the mercy of his emotions? His much longed for peace, constantly disturbed? He wished he could embrace the episode wholeheartedly. But something held him back. Was it Nellie? What drove her to smile seductively and act that way? And make the extraordinary request for him to kiss her?
He went over their conversation, which preceded the kiss. While he couldn’t pinpoint it precisely, he became convinced she intended her action to be a distraction. It was obvious she didn’t want him to question her. What lay behind such a fierce need for secrecy left him completely in the dark. He put the book on the table and abandoned the chair, needing sleep. Jason would be up early to drag him out for a ride in the park.
Charles stripped off his banyan and put it over a chair for Feeley to deal with in the morning. Naked, he stretched his limbs, yawned, then slipped beneath the cool linen sheets.
He lay with his arm beneath his head. How contented Jason was. Might he wish for such connubial bliss? Beverly seemed a steady sort of young woman. A perfect wife for his brother. Nellie was different. He suspected that if she disagreed with something, she might refuse to obey him. This marriage could rock his orderly world.
He blew out the candle and stared into the dark. Drusilla came to mind. Her pleading eyes as she offered him her congratulations. She’d attempted to explain why they’d been unable to marry, how she could not dissuade her father from marrying her to Thorburn. Charles, embarrassed for the widow, said he understood, and left her, bringing the conversation swiftly to an end. They were in danger of becoming a subject of interest, which was unfair to Nellie. And what was the point in dredging up the past? Still, he admitted that seeing her again, so classically perfect that no women in the room, or indeed in London, could hold a candle to her, did conjure painful memories he’d fought hard to forget.
Marriage had changed Drusilla, and Michael and his father’s deaths had changed him. Their lives took different paths years ago. He bashed the pillow and closed his eyes as thoughts of Nellie pushed Drusilla from his mind.
Chapter Nine
At a knock on her bedchamber door, Nellie put down the book she had been trying to read, and rose, disturbing her dog. Peter abandoned the sofa and jumped onto the bed.
She was surprised to see her sister-in-law so early this morning, and smartly dressed for travel, wearing a buff-colored carriage gown, and an Indian shawl over her shoulders. Beneath her smart bonnet, her face appeared strained and sad.
“May I have a word, Nellie?” Eliza asked. “You aren’t preparing to go out?”
Nellie had a sense of foreboding. “I haven’t anything planned for this morning. I’m to dine with Charles at Shewsbury Court to meet his brother and his brother’s wife, but that’s not until this evening.” Nellie took her arm. “Do come and sit down, Eliza. It’s lovely to see you. Shall we have tea?”
“No, please don’t worry about the tea.” Eliza’s brown eyes were red-rimmed. “I don’t know who else to turn to. I hate burdening you with my troubles when you must be so happy. I would have spoken to Marian, but she’s not here in London.”
“What is it, Eliza?” She patted the sofa when Eliza remained standing, her York tan gloves crumpled in her hands.
Her sister-in-law sat beside her and took a deep breath. “It’s Nat. Yesterday at the Tighe’s party, a woman warned me he is having an affair with Lady Hattersley. I was so shocked that I wasn’t quite sure what to do about it.”
“Oh, my dear.” So Nat was up to no good again. Horrid for Eliza to have learned of it that way. Save us from these interfering
