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He pulled her hand around his elbow and led her through the room, stopping at occasional clusters of people to introduce his wife.
Victoria was serene and elegant and charmed every person she met. David began to think that it was because of her that he noticed so few undercurrents in every conversation. But he kept waiting for someone to be openly rude, and it could have ruined the evening for him.
But he wasn’t going to let it.
Then Lady Augusta Clifford, whom they’d last encountered at the dressmaker’s, cornered them between a potted fern and the piano.
“Lord and Lady Thurlow, how good to see you again.” She glanced down at Victoria’s gown, and her smile faltered. “How wonderful you look in the garment Madame Dupuy pieced together for you.”
David took an angry breath, but Victoria squeezed his elbow and said, “Thank you so much, Lady Augusta. And I feel wonderful tonight, which is even more important, don’t you think?”
“Hmmm,” the woman said, then fixed her gaze on David. “I have a question that only you can answer, Lord Thurlow. Have you heard of Southern Railway?”
He called on every acting skill he possessed to look at her blankly. “Yes. Why?”
“I’m traveling to Dover in several months, and I was going to use their trains. My husband suggested that since you invested in it, perhaps we should do the same.”
She only wanted to talk about investments, but David’s worst fear about the ruination of all his plans hit him hard. “It is a good investment.” He took Victoria’s elbow. “Excuse us, but we’re both quite thirsty.”
Lady Augusta blinked. “Why—of course.”
David used his height to his advantage and spotted the quickest way to the terrace. After threading his way throughdozens of couples, he reached the tall glass doors and pushed them open. The gust of cool air refreshed him.
“Breathe, David.”
He frowned down at Victoria as she drew him to the balustrade, then slipped behind a tall column, shielding them from any curious people near the door.
She tried to fan him with her hand, her laughter swelling her breasts rather dangerously in that gown. Under the moonlight, her skin glowed, her eyes flashed.
“I think I’m breathing well enough,” he said.
“Good.”
And then she pulled his head down and kissed him. The shock of her softly parted lips against his inflamed a desire for her that had become so much a part of him that he didn’t question it any longer. He drew her against him, groaning at the pressure of her full breasts against his chest.
Victoria’s senses floundered. She was pressed up against her husband, who held her as if he might never let her go. His mouth was so gentle at first, as always, light kisses against her lips. She felt the prickly brush of his chin, heard his groan that echoed her own. She didn’t care where she was, or who might be watching her.
All she cared about was that David was kissing her back—an unplanned, spontaneous burst of passion practically in public. It satisfied her right down to her toenails.
And then he nipped at her lips, and when she parted them in surprise, his tongue swept into her mouth, and she could taste him in a way that made every intimate act they’d shared before seem incomplete. The way he licked deep inside her made her shudder with an urgent need for more. His mouth clashed with hers, opening, parting, almost drinking from her. After sweeping his hands down her body, he pulled her hips against his. Therewere too many garments between them to feel much, but she reveled in this rare sensation of being wanted.
“Thurlow!” a voice called from far away. “I saw you come out here.”
David ended the kiss, lifting his head but not releasing her. She swayed into him, and he smiled with a look of satisfaction and promise.
“This isn’t over,” he said in a low, rumbling tone that set off an answering vibration deep inside her.
How she loved what his voice could do to her.
She clutched his sleeves before he could release her. “David, can I face somebody like this?”
He cupped her face in his gloved hands, and she wished for the feeling of his skin against hers.
“You look like a wife,mywife. And besides, it’s only Simon.” He guided her away from the balustrade.
Lord Wade was walking toward them, his stride as jaunty as his manner. She couldn’t read his eyes in the moonlight, but his grin was wicked.
“Lady Thurlow,” he said, “your husband dragged you from the room before I could say hello.”