Such strong desire shocked him. In this week since Dot had consented to marry him, he hadn’t thought about her in that way. Perhaps it was because he’d initially thought of her as that peculiar woman parading about Bath with those damn cats!
Once they arrived at the Upper Assembly Rooms, he urged Mr. Pankhurst and Annie to go ahead and save their chairs. “I need to have a private word with Dot in the Octagon.”
As the others went on, she gave him a quizzing look. “Is anything amiss?”
He shook his head. “No. I just wanted to talk something over with you.”
With ease that had come naturally to them, she slipped her arm through his, and he patted her hand in its long white opera glove as she gazed up at him.
“I have never before not been completely honest with Annie,” he began. “You see, she is my favorite sister, and she and I have always been close.”
Dot nodded sympathetically. “I see. It’s bothering you that we are concealing this . . . this investigation from her?”
How was it that Dot always understood him so well? “Indeed it is.”
“I understand. I didn’t like not being forthright with her, either. She has become very dear to me. I think we need to take her into our confidence. Besides, three minds are better than two.”
He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss into it. “Thank you.”
“There’s nothing to thank me for, you silly goose.”
By the time they reached the assembly rooms, the dancing had commenced, and he tensed when he looked up and saw that Annie was dancing with Henry Wolf. Dot sat next to her father, but Appleton stayed standing while he glared at Wolf.
His group was soon joined by several members of the Blankenship family: Blanks and his wife Glee, along with Blanks’ stepmother and his sister-in-law, Felicity Moreland and her husband, Thomas Moreland.
Appleton shook hands with Blanks and Moreland. “You fellows aren’t playing cards?”
Blanks rolled his eyes. “The wives insist that we must dance with them first. Glee says people here will think she doesn’t have a husband because I always abandon her in favor of the card room.”
“As if she pines away unattended. . .” Appleton said playfully.
Blanks eyed his brother-in-law. “Moreland, I daresay, would rather dance attendance upon Felicity, but he’s very accommodating to me. The best brother-in-law a fellow ever had.”
Appleton did not doubt a word Blanks said. Moreland was besotted over his beautiful blonde wife, and when he wasn’t here to lead her onto the dance floor, other men practically fought over that privilege.
“I understand felicitations are in order, Appleton,” Moreland said, his gaze bouncing from him to Dot. “When’s the wedding to occur?”
“We haven’t set a date yet,” Appleton said. “I have only known her for about two weeks.”
Moreland smiled. “Love can be that way. I knew the moment I met Felicity—even though I was at death’s door—I knew I’d never love another woman.”
It was as if something inside Appleton caved in. If only he felt that way toward Dot. He forced a smile. “You certainly have been fortunate.”
“Not that fortunate. You forget Felicity was married before me. I didn’t think I’d ever have a prayer . . .”
“But now, old fellow,” Blanks said in a reassuring voice, “you’ve got the love of your life and two very fine sons. What more could a man want?”
They both seemed so happy in matrimony. And Appleton felt so damned gloomy.
When the dance finally ended and Wolf returned Annie, Appleton directed his sternest glare at him.
Wolf did not linger.
The next dance was a waltz, and for some unaccountable reason, Appleton was happy to claim Dot for the shockingly intimate dance. The idea of those glorious breasts of hers pressed to his chest aroused him.
In the days since their betrothal, he’d not thought of her in the way a man thinks of a woman, not even when he’d asked her to marry him. It had been more like a business arrangement. As their hands clasped and their torsos came together in so intimate a fashion, he sorely regretted that he hadn’t kissed her when she’d consented to marry him.
She must think him a foppy-boy!
As he glided along the ballroom with her in his arms, intoxicated by her sweet scent of spring roses, it occurred to him this was the woman who would bear his children. Thinking about her bearing his children got him to thinking about bedding her, and thinking about bedding her got him thinking about what it would be like to lie with her and . . . kiss her. . . to feel her tongue touch his . . . to slowly peel the garments from her body and stroke her satiny skin . . . to fill his hand with the plumpness of her breast . . .
All these thoughts nearly debilitated him with powerful desire. He looked at her as he’d never looked at her before, with a burning hunger.
Something in the back of his lust-fogged brain told him this was good. Desire for Dot certainly trumped his former indifference. He’d been dreading marrying a woman he couldn’t love. But marrying a woman he potently desired. . . now that was something to look forward to.
He drew her closer and spoke huskily. “We need to set a date.”
“For what?”
How could she not be feeling what he was feeling, not be throbbing with desire, not be anxious to swiftly wed? “For our wedding.”
“Before we catch the murderer?”
He was crushed by her disinterest in their marriage. “My dear Dot, we may never catch the murderer.”
She nodded most morosely.
He had thought she’d be anxious to marry him. Didn’t all women crave being married?
Then it occurred to him that perhaps she did not love him. Perhaps she was merely marrying him for his title.
It had never occurred to him that she wouldn’t be agog to wed him. The fact that she might not be
