Regency Surrender: Passion And Rebellion. Louise Allen

she said darkly. ‘Wait until we are in the carriage.’ So saying, she swept out of the front door and into the street, where the hired carriage he’d come to collect her in was still waiting.

      ‘You look divine, by the way,’ he said as he handed her in.

      He made her feel divine, too, the way his eyes devoured her as he climbed in beside her.

      She was glad she’d succumbed to the urge to dress up for him. She’d briefly wondered whether he would feel more comfortable if she dressed plainly, the way she usually did. But she hadn’t been able to resist putting on the prettiest of her new gowns. And tucking the diamond—or possibly crystal—aigrette into her hair had been an act of pure self-indulgence. Just once, she wanted to look her best and have him look at her exactly the way he was looking at her right now. As though she was beautiful. Desirable.

      ‘You look quite...appealing yourself,’ she murmured, looking him up and down with appreciation. It was a relief to see he still had some clothes fit to be seen in, in any company. In fact, they looked as though they’d scarcely been worn at all. He must have had quite an extensive wardrobe when he’d been married to his wealthy, well-connected wife. And he clearly hadn’t pawned it all yet.

      ‘Thank you,’ he said, taking her hands and kissing first one, then the other.

      Her toes curled up with pleasure. Oh, but she had been right to seek the solace that only he could give her tonight.

      ‘So what is it that has driven you from your friends this evening? And made you hint at some mystery? I am all agog.’

      ‘I could not stomach one more minute of their billing and cooing, if you must know. And I heartily regretted my decision to turn down your invitation to spend the day with you not half an hour after departing for the Bois de Boulogne. At least if I’d been dancing with you, you would have noticed I was there!’

      ‘Billing and cooing? The stringy Frenchman and the mousy widow?’

      ‘Yes,’ she said in disgust. ‘Though they do say that love is blind, I had never before considered how very accurate that statement is until today.’ She shot him a sharp look. ‘But Fenella is not mousy. She is elegant and poised. Perhaps she is a touch reserved, but—’

      ‘Nondescript,’ he said dismissively. ‘The kind of woman you barely notice. It amazes me that she managed to produce a daughter so vibrant as that...’

      ‘Sophie,’ Amethyst supplied. ‘Oh. So that is why you asked about her father.’

      He didn’t contradict her.

      ‘I’ve often thought Sophie must take after her father, myself.’ She smiled up at him. He couldn’t return her smile. Her pleasure in assuming they were of like mind about the girl made him feel so guilty he couldn’t even look at her.

      ‘Because Fenella is a quiet person, though neither nondescript, nor mousy. I always think she is a perfect lady, actually.’

      ‘She is not perfect,’ he said bluntly. ‘She pales into insignificance when next to you. When first I saw you here in Paris, I hardly even noticed she was at the table. But I could not get you out of my head, no matter how hard I tried. I thought of you practically all day. And even in my dreams, there you were, your wonderful hair spread across my pillows, your naked—’

      ‘Did you?’

      She loved hearing him say things like that. And even if it was merely the practised patter of a seasoned rake, it was close enough to what she’d felt to be convincing. She hadn’t been able to stop her thoughts returning to him either. And he’d infiltrated her dreams too.

      ‘But I am being remiss,’ he said. ‘To distract you from whatever it was you were going to tell me about your friends. You were so annoyed with them you looked as though you really needed to make a clean breast of it.’

      His gaze dropped to the bodice of her gown. And all of a sudden she could imagine him baring her breasts, right there in the carriage, and suckling on them the way he’d done the night before.

      ‘It was all your fault,’ she said resentfully. She had decided to get out tonight and risk taking a peek at the glittering whirl that was Parisian society after all. But one heated look and all she wanted was to tell the coachman to take her to his studio, remove every stitch of clothing, slowly, while he watched, and then have him do all the things he’d done to her last night.

      Over and over again.

      ‘Mine? I cannot be held responsible for every love affair that springs up in Paris, just because I happen to live here.’

      ‘Oh, that’s not what I meant. It was what you said, last night. About, the man who calls himself Monsieur Le Brun. I’ve always thought there was something suspicious about him.’ That was not quite true. It was more that she was suspicious of all males as a matter of course.

      ‘But this morning, only he was in the salon where we gather before going out. And although we have been in rooms on our own before, he just looked so...uncomfortable. He could not meet my eyes. Well,’ she huffed, her eyes narrowing, ‘naturally not, the sneak! It turns out he—’ but just then the carriage lurched to a halt. They had arrived at the hôtel hired by the minor politician who was throwing tonight’s informal rout.

      ‘He what?’

      ‘Are you not going to open the door and help me alight?’

      ‘No. I want to hear what the sneak has been getting up to.’

      ‘I will tell you inside.’

      ‘But anyone might overhear.’

      ‘So? I care not. Besides, if we just sit here with the door closed, people will think we are...’

      ‘So?’ He grinned at her, echoing her own words. ‘I care not.’

      ‘You have to be the most annoying man I’ve ever met.’

      ‘Worse than Monsieur Le Brun?’

      ‘Far worse,’ she said darkly. ‘Because I suspect you annoy me on purpose.’

      ‘You should not look so utterly captivating with your eyes flashing fire, then.’

      ‘Captivating? Don’t you mean shrewish? That’s what most men say.’

      ‘Ah, but I’m not most men. And you warned me about your prickles before you let me get too close. If you were really a shrew, you wouldn’t care whether you hurt me or not.’

      He leaned forwards, and planted a hard kiss on her lips just as she was parting them to give him a piece of her mind. He kissed her until she’d forgotten what she’d been going to say to him. And then, just as she relented and started to kiss him back, he pulled away and sprang out of the carriage.

      Only to lean back in, extending his hand to her with a broad smile, which she somehow found herself returning.

      ‘You are incorrigible,’ she said, shaking her head.

      ‘That’s me,’ he agreed cheerfully. ‘But you wouldn’t have me any other way, would you? You’ve needed to find a man who is strong enough not to bleed when you try to sharpen your claws on him.’

      ‘And you think you are that man?’

      ‘I’m man enough for you,’ he husked into her ear, just at the moment when a footman stepped forwards to take her coat. Which made her blush. And want to do something to make him squirm, the way he’d just made her squirm. Only she couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t make her look a fool as well.

      ‘God, will you just look at this place?’ Nathan tucked her hand into the crook of his arm almost absent-mindedly as he stared up at the queue of people snaking half-way down the stairs. ‘They must have rented the whole building, not just one floor.’

      She took note of the disdainful twist to his mouth. In spite of growing up in exalted circles, in spite of having married