She took many gracious bows, then dashed away. A door behind the stage opened and closed so, evidently, she’d tiptoed out rather than stay and mingle. Her admirers didn’t seem to mind. They were chattering animatedly, discussing every aspect of the recital as if they’d just witnessed a Shakespearean drama.
How did she do it? Why was she so tantalizing? The shipwreck had happened twenty year earlier, but people never wearied of her retelling of the event. He ought to have been happy that she’d turned the tragedy into a career that supported her in quite a grand style, but he was pathetically jealous to have so many men avidly ogling her.
The servants were lighting the candles, and he hurried out before he could be waylaid and required to gush over her. He wondered where she was and decided she’d have hastened up to her bedchamber to change her clothes. He wandered down several halls until he arrived at a rear staircase. He hesitated forever, debating his choices, then he mumbled, “Why not?”
Why not debase himself yet again? Why not compound his ludicrous condition with more inexplicable acts?
He climbed to her suite, and when he reached it, he didn’t bother knocking. He simply spun the knob and slipped inside. The sitting room was empty, the bedroom too, but he could hear her talking to Fish in the dressing room.
It dawned on him that he was behaving exactly like the dandies at the theater who swarmed around the prettiest actresses and opera dancers. He’d always derided those idiots, aggravated over how they’d been driven to such levels of stupidity. Now he knew. It merely took a vixen like Libby Carstairs to goad a man to recklessness.
What might he do for her? If she was shrewd enough to solicit boons, he might proffer any gift if it would garner him extended time in her exotic presence.
He didn’t try for stealth, but simply marched forward. As he approached, she asked, “Simon, is that you?”
“It’s not Simon,” he replied as he appeared in the doorway.
For once, she was dressed, so he didn’t catch her in her petticoat. Her hair was pinned up in a haphazard way that should have looked messy, but it only added to her allure. She was wearing the bright red gown he liked, her corset laced tight, so she was displaying plenty of bosom.
She was fabulous, a siren to tempt men to their doom. How could he be expected to resist her?
She sighed with resignation, and Fish glowered like a fussy nanny.
“Miss Carstairs doesn’t receive callers after a performance,” Fish scolded, “and you, Lord Barrett, are presuming on her good nature. You have to head downstairs. Immediately.”
“I don’t believe Miss Carstairs would like me to depart.”
He stared at Libby, his hot regard enveloping her like a cloud. She was as enticed as he was, and she tsked with annoyance.
“It’s all right, Fish,” she said. “He can stay.”
“You’re courting trouble,” Fish warned, and she scowled. “Both of you are courting trouble. What if Lord Roland discovers you were in here, Lord Barrett? You might be safe if you were dallying in your own home, but his servants have no duty to keep this kind of secret for you.”
“Don’t worry,” he told her. “No one saw me sneak in.”
Fish scoffed. “Spoken like a true cad.”
“Don’t nag, Fish,” Libby said. “We’re not children. Lord Barrett and I know what we’re doing.”
Fish chuckled, but nastily. “I’ll be sure to jot that down in my journal: Lord Barrett and Libby know what they’re doing.” She gestured over Libby’s person. “Are you ready to go down? Do you need anything else from me?”
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t dawdle with him. I refuse to have Lady Penny badgering me as to your whereabouts.”
“We won’t dawdle,” Libby said, but Luke had no comment.
He glared at Fish to inform her that she should leave. She stomped out, muttering, “Don’t come crying to me if you’re caught together. I will not defend either of you.”
Luke listened until the door shut behind her, then he fell on Libby like a feral animal. It seemed as if they’d been parted for decades.
His hands were in her hair, his tongue in her mouth. He couldn’t get close enough to her, couldn’t hold her tightly enough, so he pushed her against the wall and lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist so he could lean in and crush his loins to hers.
They scratched and bit, wrestled and groaned and grappled for purchase. It was debauched and wild, and he’d never experienced a similar episode with any woman.
He yanked her away from the wall and carried her into the bedroom. He dropped her onto the bed and tumbled down after her so she was stretched out beneath him. The entire time, he hadn’t stopped kissing her. He couldn’t stop.
He had no idea how long they continued, but gradually, they ran out of steam, the embrace cooling to something that was tender and sweet.
“I think you missed me today,” she murmured when they finally came up for air.
“I feel as if I haven’t seen you in years.”
“I will confess to feeling the same.”
“Where were you? I searched for you all afternoon.”
“I went for a ride.”
A dozen jealous images flew through his mind as he pictured every handsome man at the party.
“With who?” His tone was sullen and morose. “You’d best hurry and tell me you were alone.”
“I was with my cousin, Simon.”
“You were gone for hours,” he petulantly said.
“You’re irked that I was, so you’re frowning and pouting. Why? Were you envisioning me enjoying a torrid tryst with someone other than you?”
“If I was pondering an incident that ridiculous, I would never admit it.”
She smirked. “You are deranged. Have I mentioned that you are?”
“Yes, I believe you might have.”
“If I had remained in the manor, I couldn’t have fraternized with you.”
“We could have tarried in the same rooms,” he
