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That afternoon at precisely three o’clock, Victoria and Anna set off in the Banstead carriage with a footman clinging to the back. It took six stops before Wilfred the footman returned to inform her that the lady was at home.
The small, neat town house near Hyde Park was the home of Sir James Fogge, a member of Parliament. Victoria was shown up to a lovely gold and cream drawing room, which was occupied by two ladies, obviously mother and daughter.
The older woman came forward and curtsied. Victoria curtsied in return.
“Lady Thurlow, I am Lady Fogge. May I present my daughter Miss Fogge.”
More curtsying followed, and Victoria studied their pleasant, round faces with relief as they invited her to sit. Maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult. “Thank you so much for receiving me—and for sending a wedding gift.”
Lady Fogge waved a bejeweled hand. “Sir James speaks so highly of your husband, my lady. They sit on committee together. We were thrilled that Lord Thurlow found a suitable match. Having a lady at home always makes a man happier.”
Victoria smiled and imagined their reaction if they only knew the truth. As they discussed the weather, she noticed that Miss Fogge often glanced at a piano in the corner of the room.
In a moment’s silence, Victoria asked, “Do you play, Miss Fogge?”
The girl, not more than eighteen, gave a guilty start. “I do, Lady Thurlow.”
“So do I. I would love to hear you play sometime.”
Miss Fogge studied her, then after glancing guiltily at her mother, began to speak quickly. “Lady Thurlow, do you play at the piano in the Banstead drawing room?”
Victoria smiled at the girl. “I have. But I usually use the one in the music room. Are you familiar with the house, Miss Fogge?”
Lady Fogge frowned at her daughter and shook her head. “No, Lady Thurlow, we have never been to Banstead House. Please forgive my daughter for being so forward.”
“But, Mama,” Miss Fogge said plaintively, “that piano has such a titillating history! And I heard about the parties that used to be held there?—”
“That is enough, my girl. We do not repeat unsubstantiated rumors.” Lady Fogge turned back to Victoria. “Have you been to the new dressmaker on Regent Street?”
The final few minutes passed uneventfully, with Lady Fogge always finding something new to say. She was obviously giving her daughter no chance to speak, and no chance for Victoria to ask questions.
When Victoria finally took her leave, she tried five more residences, and no one was at home to her. She refused to bedisheartened. It would take time to overcome her former state as a businessman’s daughter. Victoria was a liability to David’s social position in the world of theton, so she had to do everything possible to overcome that.
17
Instead of thinking about how to tell David about the dinner invitation, the arrival of night made Victoria remember what had happened between them the last time they were alone together.
When he arrived, obviously nude beneath the robe, she was so flustered, she could barely think. His eyes lingered on her in a smoldering way, silently saying that he wanted to show her the next stage in their intimate journey.
His hands were sliding up her arms, then his fingers tugged at the dressing gown clasp at her throat. She felt hot and needy, and already her breasts tingled as she remembered what he’d done to them last night.
Her dressing gown slid to the floor, and he pressed his mouth behind her ear. His robe brushed against her delicate nightdress, and the sensation against her breasts was consuming her every thought.
His hands slid up her back, then down to cup her behind. She gave a little gasp as he pulled her hips against his, and she felt the long bulge she’d noticed before. Only thin garments separated her from discovering everything about it. Was thiswhat Mrs. Wayneflete had meant when she said he put part of himself inside her?
And then she couldn’t think anymore, because he’d pulled her totally against him, his arms holding her close, his mouth spreading kisses down the side of her neck. But she could smell his hair, feel its silky texture against her skin. The buttons at the back of her neck came free, and her nightdress slid loose at one shoulder. He followed its descent with his lips, the moist softness of them making her shudder. She held him close, his shoulders so impossibly wide. He made her feel wanted, needed, and no longer worried about her nudity. He was not a man to judge her.
He dropped to his knees before her, holding her about her waist. The neckline of her nightdress hovered at the upper curve of her right breast, in front of his face. She could even see her own flesh tremble. With a slight tug, he pulled the material, and one breast was revealed.
She felt the air on her brief nudity as if she’d never undressed before. But David was staring at what he’d revealed with a heat that seemed to jump between them. She wanted him to touch her there again, and her nipple hardened into a point at just the thought. He gave a slow grin that was very male, very possessive, and she thrilled at the sight of it. And then he did something she never expected.
He leaned forward, opened his mouth, and licked her nipple, a slow, wet, hot, rough sensation that would have sent her swooning to the floor if he hadn’t held her so tightly. Darts of pleasure shot low into her belly, and she wanted to press that part of her against him, as if just touching him could somehow make everything better.
Her moan seemed loud as he continued to taste her. When his mouth closed over her and suckled, she cried out,shuddering. She found herself on her back on the carpet before the hearth, not even remembering how he’d laid her there.
This was going too far—and she hadn’t told him what she’d done.
“Wait, wait, David, I have to tell you something. I should have said it before we even started.”