This was not a laughing matter. “She’s one of the main supporters for New York’s abolitionist movement.”
He raised his eyebrows and smiled broadly. “Yes, you did state that. No doubt she would be. Always was ready for the fight.” And he laughed again.
Ada fumed. He was making light on a serious matter! “How—”
“My, oh my,” Will interjected with a yawn. “I think it’s been one top rate night! I’m exhausted. Aren’t you?”
Francois didn’t break eye contact with her but replied, “Yes. As always, my injury reminds me it is here.”
“Good then. Let us bid our adieus and leave.” Will turned toward Ada. “Am I not right, doctor?”
She snarled. Whenever he used her title, it was useless to argue with him. “No, of course. Our patient needs his rest.”
But as they made their way to the hostess, Ada quelled the insane desire to slap them both.
The carriage ride home was a wall of silence. Francois shifted in the seat across from Ada, finding her anger gave her an intense look as she worked to appear indifferent, staring out the window into the darkness. But she still breathed heavily, the valley hinted at between the mounds at her chest, still heaved, stirring his passion in the most vexing way. She was mad, which floored him, that his half-sister was such an influential person. What were her grounds? He had no control over who his father sired. Was he to remain white trash in her eyes? Or given any credit to his background? And what had happened to that other surgeon? Dr. Leonard had disappeared after they bid farewell to Amelia, apologizing for having to leave.
It was obvious he was going to have to do something to appease this woman, or she could turn him over to the authorities as a rebel and a prisoner of war.
As the carriage pulled up to the house, she lit out of it as quickly as the coachman opened the door and offered her his hand to disembark. Even in her long gown, she was quicker than Francois could even attempt to be, in his debilitated state. As he hobbled up the stairs, cursing in his head at the pain riveting up his calf, he made it to the door and inside, scanning for where she was.
“She went to her room, sir.”
“Thank you, James.” This crafty servant seemed to not only appear without warning, he also read minds—a skill equal to Fanny back home, a trick he appreciated and despised at the same time. Gripping the railing, Francois nodded at the servant and stumbled up the stairs.
The door to Ada’s room appeared closed but when he went to tap on it, the door wasn’t latched and swung open for him. Inside, he found her sitting at the dressing table, Katie the maid, unraveling the pinned-up curls of her hair. Her gaze seemed locked on the looking glass in front of her, not even flinching when the door opened. Katie didn’t stop her work, though she did glance his way for a second.
“Ada,” he called softly, but at the sound of his voice, her shoulders tightened.
“It appears, sir, that protocol is lost on you. The door was shut and I seek no conversation with you.”
She was still mad, which confused him. How had their closeness evaporated that quickly? All due to his half sister Jaquita? That made no sense. He nodded to Katie, prodding her to leave. Without a word to her mistress, the maid put down the brush and scurried out of the room.
With half her mane falling down her shoulders and two locks remaining pinned high, Francois ambled up to finish the maid’s job.
“I can do that,” she stated flatly.
“I am well aware of that,” he replied, pulling one of the last pearled cap pins out. “But why not let me, since I am here?” He pulled the other curl loose.
She stiffened. “I’d prefer it if you did not.”
“Hmmmm…” He ran his fingers through her dark blonde locks, working the tangled curls free of the bonds in which they’d been held, twisted up for the cascading styling she’d worn. The strands felt like silk to his touch and he relished it in. Then, as he pulled it all back to drape down her back, he bent and kissed her bare neckline.
He felt her tremble. Pleased at that, he also knew a bolt of lightning shot through his veins, igniting a fire below that had been burning embers since their night together.
“Please stop.”
He ran the tip of his tongue down her neckline, to her shoulders and then back, taking a nip at her neck. “No.”
She melted at his touch, or so he chose to believe as the tenseness vacated those tight shoulders. He’d swore if he looked up, her eyes would be closed. Satisfied, he kissed back up her neck and when he reached her earlobe, he pulled back a tad and let his fingers free her ears of the dangling pearl earbobs. Again, she shuddered.
“I think you’ve done this before,” she mumbled.
“Hmmmm, what?” He untied the fiche lace bow in the back before he started on the bodice lacings.
“How to undress a lady.”
That made him smile. “I might know a thing or two.”
She leaned back, as if melding to his body. As he pushed the now unlaced bodice forward, to peel it from her body, she straightened, locking her arms in a way that stopped him.
“No, I can’t let you do this.”
Puzzled, he tried again. “Do what? Make love to you?”
“No.” She wrangled out of his reach, turning to face him while clutching the bodice to her form. “You made quite a scene tonight. And we left way too early. Tongues will wag.”
He inhaled, trying to keep control of his passion, which had started to spiral out of control. Even now every part of him turned uncomfortable as his member throbbed, hard and pulsing.
“I danced. You danced. All rules were followed.
