What the hell was he going to do?
Charles came out on the lawn and caught a glimpse of Lady Bryant waiting just outside the refreshment tent, probably looking for him. She waved seductively in his direction.
So, no. He wouldnotengage in the improper sexual tutelage of his friend’s sister. But perhaps he could satisfy her curiosity in another way. Charles possessed a book, a rather wicked one, that he could give to her. There were detailed explanations. An illustration or two. The former diary of a former courtesan should be able to answer nearly all of Aurora’s questions.
Charles pulled the edge of his coat more securely over his thighs. He didn’t want Hildie assuming,wrongly, that his cock was interested inher. Beautiful as she was, Charles didn’t have any intention of tupping her.
Lady Bryant would be disappointed at having to find another way back to town.
Chapter Six
After barging throughat least three other hedge rows, Aurora finally popped out of the maze with a hole in her skirts, several curls springing about haphazardly about her temples, and a scratch along one arm. Frankly, given the way she’d thrown herself through the branches she was rather lucky the damage hadn’t been worse.
Unfortunately, she had no idea exactly where she’d ended up. Another section of the lawn, perhaps? Nothing looked familiar. Lady Berriwell’s garden party was much larger than Aurora had ascertained from the tent. She walked along the unknown stretch of grass to a small garden abloom with color. Tucked into a corner of the lawn, bright pink roses circled a small stone bench beneath the broad branches of an oak tree.
Another statue greeted her as Aurora came closer. A goddess with stone curls styled about her head.
Making her way to the bench, Aurora sat with a plop and spread out her skirts, sighing at the tears and snags in lovely blue gown. Her temples had started to ache and she might have broken the heel on one of her slippers.
AllWorthit.
Literally.
What a marvelous experience. There wasn’t any regret over kissing Worth. Or writhing on top of him. She’d do so again in an instant. Aurora meant to relive that small space of time repeatedly while waiting for Worth to capitulate. Tomorrow,over tea and a bit of toast, she would recall how he smelled of citrus, not lime or lemon, but a mix of both. How the stubble along his jaw had felt against her fingers. Her breasts still ached from having been pressed tightly to Worth’s chest. The place between her thighs still hummed.
Oh, that kiss.
Aurora placed a hand to her forehead and considered swooning on the bench.
She’d threatened him with becoming a horrible scandal, shocking her family and all of London if he didn’t give in to her demands. Which she wouldn’t. Aurora would do nothing to harm her family. The Sinclairs had been through quite enough, thank you.
Plucking at her skirts, the ache in her temples throbbing, Aurora acknowledged that after trying, unsuccessfully for the better part of nearly two years, she’d finally gained Worth’s attention. But he was just as likely to pretend she hadn’t. Probably go back to not touching her. Which would be for the best.
If Worth agreed to her little proposal, Aurora was certain she’d leave with her virtue intact. Her heart, however, was another matter.
Worth made no secret of his disregard for marriage. He was even more disparaging concerning love and romance. One night, after dining at Emerson House, he’d proclaimed after experiencing love once, he had no desire to do so again. Romance was for poets and no one else. Marriage for those that needed to produce an heir, which thankfully he did not.
Even if Worth agreed to her outlandish proposal, Aurora would only ever have him physically, which was better than never having him at all. And if she didn’t satisfy her sexual curiosity with Worth, because they were one and the same, Aurora wasn’t sure she could move on to the right gentleman.
She hadn’t lied. Aurora would wed for love or not at all. She refused to be the lone Sinclair who married for something as mediocre as money or status.
“If it came to it, I could merely enjoy Worth.”
“Oh, I agree. Charles Worthington is a man created for women to enjoy.” Aunt Lottie appeared from the other side of the topiary, eyes sparkling, grass stains on her skirt as if she’d been rolling about on the lawn, which she very likely had. “But I’m uncertain whether you should indulge.”
“Unlike you?” Aurora nodded to her chaperone’s gown. “I trust you reacquainted yourself with Lord Kenebruke?”
“Don’t sound so put out. I only left you for a short time.” Aunt Lottie blushed, which was alarming given her age and flirtatious manner.
“It has been hours.” Aurora rubbed her forehead. “I may have overindulged in the rum punch.”
“I assumed you’d stick with the champagne. What?” Aunt Lottie’s brows raised as she took a seat beside Aurora. “You don’t care for ratafia. Or lemonade.”
“You are a terrible chaperone.” Aurora nudged her gently. She adored Charlotte Maplehurst, even if she was somewhat negligent in her duties.
“I am sorry, dear. But Lord Kenebruke and I haven’t seen each other in some time. Years, actually. There was much to say.”
“Hmm.”
