Page 9 of In a Rake’s Embrace (Sins & Sensibilities #3)

CHAPTER 9

T he heavy scent of lavender drifted through the air, and Thomas instantly knew Lady Anna Wimbledon was approaching. She had been his lover for a few months, but both had grown bored with each other long before now.

“Thomas, darling, I’m so glad I found you. I’ve heard the most alarming rumor,” she said, her voice laced with intrigue.

Already? He sighed inwardly.

Thomas walked over to the open terrace, dragging in the cool night air as if it might clear the listless feeling. He pulled a cheroot from his pocket, lit it, and took a slow drag. Anna sauntered to join him, leaning provocatively against the railing. She didn’t wear a mask despite being a countess. Widowed twice, Anna believed her status granted her the freedom to indulge without worrying about what others thought.

“Are you not going to ask me what I’ve heard?” she teased, a playful pout forming on her lips, her cobalt blue eyes piercing.

“No,” he replied flatly, exhaling a plume of smoke.

She huffed in mild irritation. “You can be so frustrating.”

“I know,” he drawled, taking another long drag from his cheroot.

“Why do I even like you?”

“There is a loveable part of me that is clearly irresistible, even when I am an arse.”

She laughed, good humor dancing in her eyes. “I’m taking Lord Dawkins home with me tonight. Will you join us?”

Anna had always enjoyed sharing her bed with two lovers, but that particular thrill had long since worn off for Thomas. When he’d realized it, they had been at his good friend Oliver, the Marquess of Ambrose’s house party a few months ago. Though Anna had invited him to her bed, he hadn’t felt the desire to take her. He’d kissed her body, but it had left him cold, his mind wandering as Lord Clayton—another friend in debauchery—had pleasured her with fervor. Thomas had sat in the dark, watching their tupping, darkly amused because he knew someone had also been watching through the small peephole hidden throughout his friend’s manor. Even when Anna screamed in ecstasy, Thomas had remained disinterested, a fact that annoyed him more than anything else. He scowled at the memory.

“Well?” she pressed, arching an elegant brow in his direction.

“I’ll decline tonight, Anna.”

Her eyes widened in surprise before her expression softened. “It’s been a while since you’ve come to my bed. I miss you. I miss how we smoked and drank together afterward. Dawkins is delightful, but he does not appreciate my droll humor … nor can he fully satisfy my needs.”

Thomas sighed, the weight of her words striking a deeper chord. Anna was more than just an occasional lover—she was a good friend, someone who understood the darker side of him without judgment.

“I’ve been listless,” he admitted, flicking the ash from his cheroot. “And now I find myself ... distracted.”

“Ah, the ingénue,” she said with a knowing smile. “Is it true there will be an auction in three weeks?”

Thomas stiffened. Bloody hell! “Who told you that?”

“Madam Rebecca announced it tonight in the larger ballroom. The air in the room changed when she did—there was palpable excitement. She’s positively in her element. She mentioned privately to me that you’re the one training her.” Anna’s smile faded into a more serious expression. “I think she said it to provoke a reaction from me.”

“Nonsense,” Thomas snapped, irritation flaring. “I ought to wring Rebecca’s neck. She told me six weeks, not three.”

He took another long drag of his cheroot, exhaling slowly as his mind raced. Three weeks? That was much sooner than expected, leaving him little time to prepare Agatha. His scowl deepened, his annoyance at Rebecca simmering. She’d fast-tracked the timeline without consulting him, likely hoping to create a spectacle. The woman could be devious sometimes in her need to secure her wealth.

Anna watched him carefully, her eyes glinting with amusement. “It seems the ingénue has gotten under your skin.”

“Nonsense,” he said icily. “I have matters to attend. Excuse me, Anna.”

She inclined her head in a subtle nod of assent, then turned and sauntered away. Thomas moved through the small crowd, down the hallway and started climbing the stairs, his mood darkening with every step as thoughts of Madam Rebecca filled his mind. The timeline for Agatha’s auction had been drastically shortened, and he intended to find out why. As he neared the top floor, laughter drew his attention. In the hallway, Agatha stood with Lady Bea, giggling uncontrollably.

When Agatha spotted him, her eyes widened. She covered them dramatically with one hand and muttered, “There he is, the devil of temptation. Do you see how wicked he is? I think about him, and he manifests like a specter. Do you think he can read my thoughts and know I cannot get kissing him out of my mind?”

Lady Bea tried to suppress her own laughter and whispered, “He’s really there, Agatha.”

Agatha blinked, her hand still covering her eyes. She peeked through her fingers before lowering her hand and swaying slightly toward him.

“Are you real?” she muttered, stepping closer. Her fingers reached out to pinch his arm as if to confirm her suspicions.

Her mouth formed a small “O” of surprise, and then she dissolved into giggles.

“How much have you had to drink?” he asked.

Lady Bea sheepishly admitted, “We drank the decanter of champagne. She only had two more glasses. I never imagined she would be so easily ... foxed. I was escorting her back to her room to ensure she did not encounter anyone who might be tempted to act the fool.”

Before Thomas could respond, Agatha stumbled slightly, her balance faltering. Without a second thought, he swept her into his arms. She snuggled against his chest, sighing contentedly.

“You smell wonderful,” she murmured, her words slurring slightly. “And your body is so strong and comforting.”

Thomas grunted, saying nothing, but the feel of her lush curves pressed against him stirred something tender he wasn’t ready to examine. He carried her through the hallway, climbing the stairs to the fourth floor toward her bedchamber, her weight light in his arms. She nuzzled against his throat, her breath teasing his skin.

Once inside the room, he lowered her gently onto the bed. Agatha propped her hands under her chin, watching him with a sensuous smile.

“You are terribly handsome.”

Thomas kept his expression neutral. “Is that so?”

She reached up and lightly traced the scar that ran down his cheek.

“This makes you look like a marauding pirate,” she said huskily. “Or how I imagined one to appear.”

He stared at her, unsure how to respond to such a comment.

Agatha’s expression shifted to a frown. “I don’t understand,” she said softly. “Why did Papa get more bitter and angry when he drank? It makes me feel warm and happy ... I could even remove my clothes now without fainting!”

To prove her point, she pushed herself onto her knees and fumbled with her shift, but before she could get anywhere, she tumbled unceremoniously onto the mattress, laughing.

Thomas sighed, his irritation giving way to reluctant amusement. He tugged the blankets over her, tucking her in as she continued to laugh.

“Sleep,” he muttered.

Almost immediately, Agatha’s laughter quieted, and within moments, she drifted into a deep sleep, her breathing soft and steady. Thomas stood at her bedside, watching her for a long moment. Despite himself, a smile tugged at his lips. Shaking his head, he turned and left her room to find the madam.