blushed a little. “I certainly couldn’t leave you with him. And we must go about our adventure carefully.”
Cressida reached for her chocolate pot, but found it empty.
“Wait a moment.” He left the room. He returned in moments with a decanter and glasses. “Brandy. Drink up.”
She’d never drunk neat brandy, but sip by sip, she drained the glass. By the end she felt steadier, but also more frightened. She’d thought herself so clever and in control! But now… Was there no hope for her and her family? Then she remembered what he’d said.
“
Our
adventure?”
His eyes were bright with enthusiasm. “You can’t deny me a part in this, Miss Mandeville. And I’m sorry, but I cannot let you go to an orgy without an experienced guide.”
Chapter Five
Cressida put down the glass. “The term ‘experienced guide’ does not precisely reassure me, Your Grace.”
She remembered thinking that he lived in another orbit, and it was true. A higher orbit of elegance and confidence. A much lower one of morals. The description “middle class” was singularly appropriate for her family, as well. Not the heights of pristine virtue, but not the degrading depths, either.
“I enjoy a gathering where men and women—all enthusiastic, of course—enjoy sensual pleasures more freely than is common.”
He showed no trace of shame.
“I suppose you have an invitation.” She regretted the tartness in her voice, but really!
“If you can’t control that vinegar face, Miss Mandeville, I can’t take you anywhere naughty.”
“I have no desire to go—” She halted because she had. Or at least, had to go.
His eyes twinkled. “You could think of it as educational.”
“There are some things best not learned.”
“Wemworthy. Definitely.”
That stung. “I am
not
… Oh, you are an exasperating man!”
“I try. Come, come, Miss Mandeville, you have the name of a romantic explorer.” He leaned forward, bright eyes challenging her. “Is there not a tiny part of you that wants to see this through to the end, that wants to witness a licentious party? Did you not, perhaps, enjoy your bold venture with Crofton, delighting in the prospect of outwitting him?”
She stared. It was as if he could see into a secret part of her soul. Though terrified, though hating to let Crofton touch and command her, she had sung with excitement, with
life
, as never before.
“Yes,” she admitted.
He smiled. “Would it not be a shame to return home, to return to Matlock, without seeing this through?”
“Perhaps…”
Tris was aware of being wicked, but it was harmless. He truly was an expert guide and could ensure Miss Mandeville’s safety, and he wanted to see this world through her astonished eyes.
Time to put a twist on it.
“There is no need, of course,” he said carelessly. “I am willing to go to Stokeley and retrieve the statue for you. It should present little problem.”
She bit her lip—uncertainty, temptation, struggle, all as clear as if she’d spoken them.
He pushed a little more. “You can stay here in comfort and security.”
Her neat white teeth released her lower lip. Her tongue poked out to lick. Such full, soft lips, especially when moistened… He reminded himself that the amusement here did not include the lady in his bed. Virtuous ladies from Matlock were forbidden territory.
“It might be cowardly to leave this all to you,” she said.
“Cowardice is sometimes the epitome of wisdom.”
Let her talk herself into it.
“There are also practical considerations. I know the house, and you do not. I know which statue among others is the right one, and how to make it reveal its secrets.”
“You could tell me that.”
“It is not something easily described, and time might be short.” She licked those lips again. “It is even possible that Lord Crofton will have moved them.”
“Why?”
Pretty pink flushed her round cheeks. “They are… the sort of thing well suited to a
Cressida reached for her chocolate pot, but found it empty.
“Wait a moment.” He left the room. He returned in moments with a decanter and glasses. “Brandy. Drink up.”
She’d never drunk neat brandy, but sip by sip, she drained the glass. By the end she felt steadier, but also more frightened. She’d thought herself so clever and in control! But now… Was there no hope for her and her family? Then she remembered what he’d said.
“
Our
adventure?”
His eyes were bright with enthusiasm. “You can’t deny me a part in this, Miss Mandeville. And I’m sorry, but I cannot let you go to an orgy without an experienced guide.”
Chapter Five
Cressida put down the glass. “The term ‘experienced guide’ does not precisely reassure me, Your Grace.”
She remembered thinking that he lived in another orbit, and it was true. A higher orbit of elegance and confidence. A much lower one of morals. The description “middle class” was singularly appropriate for her family, as well. Not the heights of pristine virtue, but not the degrading depths, either.
“I enjoy a gathering where men and women—all enthusiastic, of course—enjoy sensual pleasures more freely than is common.”
He showed no trace of shame.
“I suppose you have an invitation.” She regretted the tartness in her voice, but really!
“If you can’t control that vinegar face, Miss Mandeville, I can’t take you anywhere naughty.”
“I have no desire to go—” She halted because she had. Or at least, had to go.
His eyes twinkled. “You could think of it as educational.”
“There are some things best not learned.”
“Wemworthy. Definitely.”
That stung. “I am
not
… Oh, you are an exasperating man!”
“I try. Come, come, Miss Mandeville, you have the name of a romantic explorer.” He leaned forward, bright eyes challenging her. “Is there not a tiny part of you that wants to see this through to the end, that wants to witness a licentious party? Did you not, perhaps, enjoy your bold venture with Crofton, delighting in the prospect of outwitting him?”
She stared. It was as if he could see into a secret part of her soul. Though terrified, though hating to let Crofton touch and command her, she had sung with excitement, with
life
, as never before.
“Yes,” she admitted.
He smiled. “Would it not be a shame to return home, to return to Matlock, without seeing this through?”
“Perhaps…”
Tris was aware of being wicked, but it was harmless. He truly was an expert guide and could ensure Miss Mandeville’s safety, and he wanted to see this world through her astonished eyes.
Time to put a twist on it.
“There is no need, of course,” he said carelessly. “I am willing to go to Stokeley and retrieve the statue for you. It should present little problem.”
She bit her lip—uncertainty, temptation, struggle, all as clear as if she’d spoken them.
He pushed a little more. “You can stay here in comfort and security.”
Her neat white teeth released her lower lip. Her tongue poked out to lick. Such full, soft lips, especially when moistened… He reminded himself that the amusement here did not include the lady in his bed. Virtuous ladies from Matlock were forbidden territory.
“It might be cowardly to leave this all to you,” she said.
“Cowardice is sometimes the epitome of wisdom.”
Let her talk herself into it.
“There are also practical considerations. I know the house, and you do not. I know which statue among others is the right one, and how to make it reveal its secrets.”
“You could tell me that.”
“It is not something easily described, and time might be short.” She licked those lips again. “It is even possible that Lord Crofton will have moved them.”
“Why?”
Pretty pink flushed her round cheeks. “They are… the sort of thing well suited to a
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