Page 67 of The Lord Next Door
“I was walking people to the door.” He smiled at her. “You were quite the success. Thank you.”
She smiled back. “I’m happy to help you.” When he remained silent, she knew she could not. “So what happened between Mr. Staplehill and Mr. Perry?”
He stretched back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. “Something very foolish, from what I could see. Staplehill needs to be the center of attention. In a dull moment, he brought up something about a girl who’d allowed herself to be compromised. It happened a year or two ago; it all ended well. I have no idea what set Perry off. But he was offended for the girl and her family, and he let Staplehill know about it.”
“Could this cause problems for your railway?”
“I don’t think so. But Perry is our biggest investor besides me, and he’s the one with the controlling interest in one of the railways we’ve targeted. I’ll meet with him and make sure everything’s all right.”
Silence settled between them, and it felt comfortable, as if she could ask anything and he’d talk to her.
“David, why are you doing this? I mean being so involved in Southern Railway, when it is not something a gentleman does.”
He considered her. “I’ve already told you that the railroad is important for England’s future. If my money can make it happen, then I want to help.”
She thought he wouldn’t say any more, but then he spoke in a soft, contemplative voice.
“Though it’s not true right now, someday any man can help shape the country, and not be looked down upon for it. It’s more than just setting policy in Parliament. If I help start it at the beginning, I can show people that a name can have power without a noble title behind it. It’s something to be proud of—that our children can be proud of.”
“So that they’ll forget the things their grandfather did?”
He looked out the darkened window. “Yes. Go on to bed, Victoria. I’ll join you soon.”
~oOo~
David stripped down for bed, forgetting that he usually wore clothes to his wife’s room. He was distracted by how easy it was to talk to her, by the things he’d almost revealed. He didn’t want her knowing every detail of his father’s scandals. He didn’t want those rumors to hurt her. She’d been hurt enough in her life.
He donned his robe, shrugging at his bare legs. She’d have to see them eventually.
When he knocked, she answered, and he went in. She was sitting at her desk, writing in her notebook—but not the same notebook, he realized. There on the small table was their old journal, and he’d seen her carry a different color notebook down to breakfast in the morning. How many did she have? And why so many?
“Am I interrupting?” he asked.
“Of course not, David.”
He remained silent as he watched her gaze sweep down his body. Her eyes widened at his bare legs, but she said nothing.
“Victoria, I—” And then he stopped. What did he want to say?
She closed the notebook and rose gracefully to her feet. Walking toward him, she asked, “Should I remove my dressing gown, David?”
He let all his doubts go and just concentrated on her. He traced his fingers down her soft cheeks, then pushed her hair back over her shoulders. “No, I like removing it.”
Ah, that virginal blush was far too provocative. Maybe his near nakedness was a mistake, for surely his robe was already pushing away out front.
Chapter
Sixteen
Victoria saw her husband through a haze of want that must be desire. She wanted to be near him, wanted to feel him touch her. It swept through her, burning, and she gave herself up to it. As he unclasped her robe and pushed it away she swayed toward him, barely able to keep from rubbing her chin against his hands at her throat.
When the dressing gown was gone, his hands didn’t move away. She was wearing the nightdress with the lower neckline, which still didn’t even betray the tops of her breasts. David’s fingers caressed her throat, down into the hollow at the base. She watched the intent expression on his face, the way his eyes looked heated instead of distant. His hands followed the sweep of her collarbones, light touches that crossed between pleasure and a kind of pain she couldn’t resist. When he reached her shoulders, he started inward again, but this time his fingers slid beneath her neckline and traced along it from the inside.
Her breathing was ragged, her skin so sensitive to everything he did. At first, she wanted to look away, but she found herself trapped in his gaze. He watched her every response, and she couldn’t even think about embarrassment or awkwardness. His fingers slid lower as they neared the center and touched the slopes of her breasts and dipped into the valley between. Somehow her hands were on his waist, holding on as if she would sink to the floor if she let go.
When he pulled his fingers away, she wanted to call him back, but choked on the words as he flattened his hands at the front of her shoulders, and slid down her sides, just brushing her breasts. To her relief, he circled her ribs and moved up again. His large hands cupped her breasts from below, gently lifting their weight in his palms. A low moan escaped her as her nipples brushed lightly against his palms. The most wondrous sensation shot out through her body, catching her by surprise.
“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he whispered.
