Distraught over her loss, she walked back and forth along the green, looking for the flaw the carefully manicured lawn hid from view. So intent on her task, Romy neglected to inquire what Granby would demand for winning. Maybe an apology for insulting him. He’d probably enjoy watching her grovel. Or perhaps Granby would request that she and Theo leave The Barrow and return to London.
Theo would be furious.
Romy swallowed her pride, dipping low before him. “Thank you for the game, Your Grace,” she said as politely as she could, though the words choked her. “I’m sure you’ll inform me in due time what it is you require from me.”
“Undoubtedly,” he said quietly. Bowing to her, Granby turned on his heel and strode back to The Barrow, leaving Romy alone on the lawn with her thoughts.
* * *
Hadhe not left her on the lawn, David would have kissed her senseless.
Annoying,exquisitecreature.
An afternoon spent watching her athletic grace and bold determination to vanquish him left an ache stretching across David’s chest. Every swish of her skirts pulled him closer to her warm, lavender-scented, female skin, teasing his nostrils and causing his cock to twitch.
His desire for Andromeda existed in blatant defiance to the very ideals David had been raised to believe.
Once he reached the steps leading to the terrace, he paused, looking back at her. The sway of her skirts whispered to him, drawing his attention to the delicate line of her back.
Andromeda was pacing back and forth at the edge of the green, pausing at the point where a small, barely noticeable slope began. She hunched down, running her fingers over the grass.
Clever girl.David had never appreciated a woman’s intelligence the way he did Andromeda’s.
She’d been bloody magnificent during their match, openly triumphant with each point she picked up, never willing to concede his victory until the final moment. Andromeda displayed a bold confidence in her ability. There was no demure batting of lashes or false shows of modesty in her dealings with him. No blatant compliments to salve his masculine ego. None of the behavior young ladies were admired for. Instead, Andromeda openly challenged him over the fate of an elderly servant, bristling with the indignity she assumed David had bestowed upon him.
Silas had indeed been released from David’s employ, but not in such dramatic fashion. Blythe had deliberately left out some important facts. In contrast, David’s father, Horace, would have sacked poor Silas without a thought.
Unfortunately, the change in tailors hadn’t resulted in an improvement in the size of David’s collars, though Smithfield, the man he now employed, assured him the measurements were correct.
David glanced out once more at Andromeda. She’d started pacing back and forth again. He could almost hear her muttering to herself that he’d swayed the game in his favor.
He had.
The wager he wished to collect from her was completely improper, especially given that he meant to officially offer for Beatrice. He’d decided on it the moment Andromeda had challenged him, her plump lips pursing in outrage.
Andromeda had a temper.
Every time her rounded bottom had come into view while she bent to toss one of her bowls, it had inflamed him beyond reason. And the smug grins she’d given him when she scored only served to make David imagine her naked and pliant beneath him. Even the copper sparking in her hair drove him mad. He’d had to turn away from her several times because her nearness aroused him to a painful extent.
As it was doing now. His cock throbbed between his legs, instinct making him want to grab her from the lawn and spirit Andromeda away. A soft groan left him.
The scandal would be insurmountable.
“Shit.”
“Your Grace?” A footman appeared next to him, holding his coat, face full of anxiety as if he were responsible for David’s mood.
He took his coat from the footman and flung it over his shoulders, grateful he wouldn’t have to stand on the steps to regain his composure before joining the few remaining guests on the terrace.
The coat would cover the worst of his condition.
14
Romy grabbed her portfolio, tucking it securely under her arm. She checked her pockets again to ensure she had several pencils and exited her room, grateful that the house was completely still and quiet. Most everyone had left a short time ago to attend a fair in Upper Granby, the small village about half an hour’s ride away.
Last night, Rosalind had come to her room shortly before joining the other guests for dinner, her damaged earring clasped in one hand. After retrieving the small pliers from her trunk, Romy had fixed the broken wire holding the amber. She had been absorbed in her task, forgetting she’d left out the sketch of a day dress she’d been working on.
Rosalind had taken the earring, hugging her in gratitude before placing it in her ear. Her gaze had run over the sketch, then back to Romy. “Someone will guess eventually.” Rosalind’s eyes had grown concerned. “You frequent Madame Dupree’s shop far too often. Even Mama has commented.”
