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“I did indeed,” she said, an eyebrow raised in suspicion as she glanced between him and Eliza. “My apologies, but if you’ll excuse me, I’ve forgotten that I must speak to Lady Fairhope before she leaves.” She hurried out the door that led to the hall and discreetly drew it closed behind her.

He didn’t know what to make of that. Obviously, the countess had seen something between them. They were hardly alone, however, with the door to the drawing room open.

“How are you?” he asked Eliza again. “Really?”

She attempted a smile and looked down as if she’d suddenly gone bashful. “Good, and you?”

Horrible. In agony even more than before. But he couldn’t tell her any of that. Instead he put his hands in his pockets so that he wouldn’t take hold of her unintentionally.

Keeping his voice low so that it wouldn’t travel to the drawing room, he said, “Thank you for the gifts that you sent Daisy and Heni. You needn’t have done so, but they were pleased to receive them.

” She had sent a small crate of food—a cured ham, fresh items from the greengrocer, bottled ginger beer and lemonade—along with a few books and ready-made dresses for them both.

“You’re welcome. I hoped that it wouldn’t upset you.”

He loved that she had done it, that she had thought of Daisy when she could have easily pushed both of them out of her mind. His only concern was that she might have harmed herself in some way to do it. She had said that she wasn’t wealthy. “How did you come to do it?”

She smiled, her deep brown eyes roaming his chest in a way that made him want to hold himself still for her inspection. “I spoke to Cora and she gave me her pin money, but don’t worry. I didn’t explain who they were, only that a friend had a relative who needed some items.”

“A friend.”

Her gaze shot up to his. “Isn’t that what we are?”

Yes, he supposed that was an accurate term, but he didn’t like it. Not when he knew how she felt wrapped around him. Not when he knew her viscount would soon know her as intimately, if not more so.

“Eliza…” Bloody names. “Miss Dove—”

“ Miss Eliza. My sister Jenny is here.”

He huffed out a breath. “Would a friend know the taste of your—?”

Her eyes widened and she rushed over to cover his mouth with her fingertips. “Don’t!”

He sucked the tip of her finger into his mouth.

Her gaze honed in on the sight of it disappearing there.

When he flicked the tip, licking the salt from her skin, her eyes dilated.

It had been a dangerous and heady thing to do, because now he was half-rigid with wanting her.

Even the voices wafting in from the other room did nothing to cool his ardor for her.

In fact, the very idea that they might be discovered made his longing for her more acute.

When he finally released her, she didn’t move away from him.

Her hand dropped to rest lightly on his chest. The fingers of his free hand found her arm, and he lightly stroked the silk of her skin.

“I’ve thought of nothing but you,” he whispered.

He shouldn’t be saying any of this. He was a glutton for punishment where she was concerned.

Her eyes were half-closed and she swayed into him, her hip bumping the rod in his trousers and bringing it to roaring life.

He was nearly drunk on her and they had hardly touched.

Images of taking her over the back of the chair came to mind, and his hand clenched so tightly around the stem of his glass that it shook.

“Simon,” she whispered, and it had that tone, the same one from the carriage. “Why do you say such things?”

It was a very good question. “I do not know.” Only he did know. It was the truth and he was a jealous fool and he despised that Mainwaring would have her.

“I think of you, too, every day. I am all agony,” she said, tossing his words back at him.

“Eliza,” he groaned. His hand dropped to her waist, her stomach, and down to her thigh. “I would give anything to have you be mine.”

“Then why didn’t you give me the choice?”

There was a knock on the doorframe. Simon managed to put a foot between him and Eliza before the Duke of Rothschild appeared. He looked from one to the other. “Cavell, Miss Eliza, I hope I’m not interrupting.”

She recovered before he did. “Of course not, Your Grace. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get some champagne.”

Simon greeted Rothschild as he watched Eliza hurry from the room.

The duke walked over and took Eliza’s original spot against the desk. “August and I have had the pleasure of spending a little time with the Dove sisters since they’ve been in England. They’re charming.”

“Yes, very charming.” Simon felt like a boy who’d been caught with his hand in the biscuit tin. What was happening between them must have been obvious.

“I’m grateful you appreciate our Miss Eliza. Have you decided to court her?”

“I’m aware of the stipulations of her inheritance. I don’t fulfill those particular requirements.”

The man looked at him, seeing far more than Simon was comfortable with, but he’d just been with Eliza. She was so very good at breaking down his shields, and he hadn’t yet had time to build them back.

Rothschild considered him a moment and then asked, “You don’t think she’d choose you over her inheritance?”

It was almost cruel the way he said it, though he likely didn’t mean it to be. “Choice is a luxury some of us don’t have.”

“Touché, Cavell.” The duke inclined his head, conceding the point. “It was wrong of me to presume that you hadn’t asked her.”

That is very much what Eliza herself had said. But it would be foolhardy and selfish to put her in that position. Why would she choose him and an uncertain future when she could have her every need met? Except Mainwaring wouldn’t fulfill her needs.

He shook his head to physically stop those thoughts. Until this last brawl was finished, he had nothing to offer her, not even himself. He wasn’t free.

“Well, you could always carry on with her after the wedding.”

Simon couldn’t imagine sharing her with Mainwaring. The idea made him so angry that he wished they were in the brawling ring instead of Leigh’s home.

Rothschild smiled, and Simon didn’t know if he’d been intentionally provoking him. “Come, let us get you a drink stronger than champagne.” He put his arm around Simon and led him to the drawing room.