“Well, I do acknowledge that it will be a challenge. But never fear, with Eleanor’s sponsorship I am sure we will find a way.”
She studied him again, her expression serious even though the discussion had hit unprecedented heights of silliness. “Your code—Ronnie’s code—both are set to make me an object of fun.”
“I disagree. In truth, our codes have very little to do with you except that you are affected by our behavior. Our codes are meant to manage ourselves, not others. And before you poke another accusing finger, recall that you have a code of your own.”
“I do not,” she said haughtily. Then she seemed to change her mind. “Unless it is science. The rule of logic.”
“Well you need to toss that aside. You are in society now.”
She snorted, and he liked the indelicate sound. “I gathered that at dinner, Mr. Buggy Duke.”
He laughed, but he could see she was resigned to their charade. And for that, he was enormously grateful. “It will come out all right, Mellie. I have sworn it.”
She looked up at him, and at this angle, the light fell upon the creamy skin of her bosom. Her night rail had come untied, so he saw beautiful skin and the swell of her very lovely breasts. “You are daft, Mr. Anaedsley. But I have given you my promise, and so…”
“And so?” he prompted when she fell silent.
“Must I really be a Cricket Princess?”
“Yes,” he said in mock seriousness. “Much more a compliment than it sounds, you know. Men go mad for crickets. Just look at your father.”
“Do not hold him up to me as an example.”
“The Beetle Queen made a spectacular match last season.”
“I lived in the country, Mr. Anaedsley, not Siberia.”
He frowned, searching through his memory for his geography lessons. He’d been terrible in that subject, his interest much more in the construction of canals.
“It’s part of Russia,” she supplied.
“Ah yes, of course it is,” he said. He couldn’t stop himself. He touched her chin. “You are a very clever girl, you know. Much more clever than I, it seems, in matters of geography.”
“You are better in entomology.”
“And you in chemical recipes.” He stroked his thumb across her lower lip, pleased when the flesh heated and swelled beneath his caress. “But in this—in society, and what attracts a gentleman—pray allow me to be the wiser one.”
“I believe I have gambled my entire future on just such a thing.”
He smiled. “So you have.” Then his smile broadened. “There is only one thing left to do, you know.”
Her lips had parted, the heat of her moist breath flowing over his thumb like a beaconing wave. “What?”
“We must seal this bargain with a kiss.”
Her eyes told him she’d expected such a thing. The way her breath caught told him she’d hoped for such a thing. But it was her lips that he was most interested in as she formed these words.
“We have already sealed it with a kiss,” she whispered.
A great many of them, in fact—kisses that burned in his memory as splendid events. As the best damn bargains he’d ever made purely because of the way they made him feel: alive, happy, and desperate to kiss her again.
“I feel the need to ensure your promise again,” he said as he leaned closer.
“You have it.”
So he took it: her promise, her mouth, and a great deal more besides.
Ten