Page 34

Twenty-Four

Simon was the first to move. The carriage had turned a corner, making them sway so that he had to catch himself on the seat to keep from crushing her.

He brushed his lips against Eliza’s cheek and leaned over to peek out through the slit in the curtains.

The air inside was humid and warm, thick with the scent of their frantic coupling.

“The museum is outside,” he said.

She didn’t know how long the carriage had been circling the area, nor did she know how long it had been since they had left Whitechapel. She should care. Jones would be waiting for her, and he might very well sound the alarm if she was gone for too long.

Simon rifled in his coat pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Turning back to her, he wiped the inside of her thigh where he had spent himself. A pang of guilt gnawed at her.

“Did I make you—”

His gaze shot up to her. “Make me?” Then he leaned forward, a slow moseying stroll that ended with him on top of her again and his mouth an inch above hers. A smile touched his lips. “Did it seem as if I didn’t want to?”

She almost smiled, but he kissed her first, so hard and deep that excitement zinged through her belly. Then he was gone and tucking his shirt in while he fastened his trousers.

This was it. They were finished.

She couldn’t quite get that through her head and make her limbs work properly at the same time.

The second he had released her, her legs had fallen to the floor and she’d slid down to sit on her bottom with her skirts a mess around her.

He shrugged back into his coat, his broad and thick shoulders disappearing before her eyes.

His hands scraped through his hair, trying to bring some semblance of order to the mess she had made of it.

Then he looked around for his hat. She had no idea where it might have ended up, but happened to glance over and see it undisturbed where she had been seated before he’d pulled her into his lap.

She handed it to him wordlessly, even though seeing him fully clothed again made her want to cry. She’d never see him again like this.

“Simon.”

“Eliza…” There was a warning tone in his voice that gave her pause.

He turned to look at her and took note of her lack of movement.

Reaching over, he took hold of her under her arms and drew her up to her knees.

He retrieved her underskirt and held it open for her at the waist. Silently, she moved to sit on the bench seat and he worked the petticoat over her feet and ankles and pulled it up her legs.

Standing was out of the question, so she hiked up the skirt and moved to her knees on the floor again so that he could tie it in the back.

That done, he helped her don the bustle and handed her the tapes so that she could tie it around her waist. When they were finished arranging her underthings, he pulled the fabric of her skirt smooth over everything.

Then he faced her and everything stopped again.

“Simon.”

He kissed her again. This time gently. It was so gentle that her heart ached. “We have to go,” he said when he pulled back.

She nodded, and he stroked her cheek and then her bottom lip. He didn’t say anything, but the same affection that had been shining from his eyes earlier was there for her to plainly see.

Her hat was the final item, and he picked it up from the other seat where it had been hiding under her clothes.

She took it and worked the hat pin into her tousled hair.

Jones was going to wonder what had happened to her in the museum, but it couldn’t be helped.

She wouldn’t change anything that had transpired in the carriage.

When she was finished and settled on the seat, Simon used the flat of his fist to bang on the roof. The carriage came to a stop after a moment, and Simon tied back the curtain. “Do you see your carriage?” he asked.

It was near the other end of the block, thankfully. After pointing it out, he opened the door and helped her out.

“I meant what I said…half agony, half hope,” she whispered.

The corner of his mouth twitched upward. “All agony here.”

What could she say to that? She hurried away and kept her head down as she approached the carriage. Jones came to attention and, instead of their usual greeting, she said, “Please take me home,” without looking up.

He opened the door, and only when she was safely settled inside did she let her mind wander over the last half hour. She was sore between her thighs, but in the most pleasant way imaginable. She had experienced something with Simon that she didn’t think she’d ever find again.

They arrived home quicker than she could have imagined.

She hurried inside and up to the room she shared with Jenny before anyone could meet her.

Once there, she took off her hat and then her torn drawers.

There was no way she’d be able to mend them so that the maid wouldn’t know something had happened.

It was too warm for a fire, so she couldn’t burn them, either.

With a soft curse, she stuffed them under the mattress and swore that she would burn them later.

She moved to the vanity to fix her hair and sat down, her attention caught by her reflection in the mirror.

She hadn’t thought that what had transpired between them would actually change her physical appearance, but it had.

There were the obvious changes. The marks on her neck that he’d left with his mouth.

She touched one, remembering how it had felt when he’d kissed her there.

She liked that he had marked her. Her only regret was that they would fade.

Well, perhaps she had two regrets. The other one being that he also hadn’t been able to mark her in other, less obvious places because she’d had to stay mostly dressed.

But it was her eyes that had changed the most. There was a knowledge there that had been missing before.

Not a sexual knowledge, though that had certainly changed.

But a deeper knowledge. One that she might have never known had Simon not come into her life.

She loved him. That fluttery feeling that had been infatuation and lust had morphed into something deeper.

She could hear her mother say now that it was only the sex making her feel that way, but she had felt it before the sex.

She had felt it when she’d seen him with his niece.

She had felt the first stirrings of it when she’d caught him watching Mr. Leybourne at the music hall, and later that night in the coffeehouse when he’d been so interested in her.

The door to the bedroom opened and Jenny came inside. She startled at the sight of Eliza sitting there. “There you are. I thought I heard the carriage, but I didn’t see you. I had planned to leave this for you.”

Jenny walked over and placed an envelope on the vanity top when Eliza didn’t reach out to get it. The return address was somewhere in Italy. Mainwaring’s name jumped out at her in his stark and perfect handwriting.

A lump formed in her throat, and she had to cover her mouth to stifle the unexpected sob that followed.

“Eliza? What’s wrong?” Jenny sat on the narrow bench beside Eliza and put her arms around her. “Is it Lord Mainwaring? Did he do something?”

Eliza shook her head. How was she supposed to marry him now? The hopelessness of the situation took her over. Before she could think better of it, she told Jenny everything.