Page 36 of The Viscount in her Bedroom
“Did you enjoy talking to them?”
“Not at first. I didn’t know what to say. Louisa asked them about people we had in common, and before I knew it, we were conversing.”
“She did very well,” Louisa said, “once she forgot to be nervous.”
Simon found himself startled. Just the sound of her voice made him remember the feel of her in his arms, the way her soft curves had formed to him. He tried to act like nothing was wrong, but when he brought the fork to his mouth, it was empty. He hoped he’d dropped the food on the plate.
He would still have to talk to her about what the vicar said. She would have to be warned about taking care of Georgie’s reputation.
But he couldn’t hurt her by telling her about the other rumors. He found himself dreading the private talk with her—and anticipating it for a baser reason. How could he be worried about Louisa’s reputation, and so willing to add to it at the same time?
Later that evening, he walked down the corridor alone, knowing most of the servants would be preparing for bed. It was easy enough to find her room because she’d been given the blue bedchamber, and it was the last door. He hesitated before knocking, and then was glad he had.
He could hear two women laughing. He recognized his sister’s voice immediately, but it was the sound of Louisa’s pleasure that had him enthralled. Her laughter was as deep and husky as her singing voice, and it made him weak with longing to imagine how she would express a more intimate pleasure.
Feeling ridiculous, hoping no one was silently observing him, he waited in the corridor, listening. They were discussing hairstyles for Georgie, and from their happy exclamations, they apparently approved of whatever experimenting they were doing.
How could he interrupt a blossoming friendship? He remembered Georgie’s friends as being more interested in him than in her. And although Louisa had kissed him, he didn’t believe she would ignore Georgie or treat her badly. Their own mother had never paid this much attention to her.
He couldn’t hurt Louisa by warning her to be careful with his sister’s reputation. He would just have to stay closer to his sister, even if that meant spending time with Louisa. He owed Georgie far more than he could ever repay. She had been his lifeline in the dark days when he’d first been blinded. And he would make her happy, even if it meant suffering through this unwelcome desire for Louisa.
~oOo~
When Simon was expecting Georgie in his study the next morning, the door opened. But it only took a current of air before he knew who it was. And he came to attention in more ways than one.
“Miss Shelby,” he said, then cursed himself for how husky his voice sounded.
“Lord Wade.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
When there was a moment’s hesitation, Manvil suddenly said, “I’ll return later, my lord.”
Simon gritted his teeth. He really hated not being able to see what was going on.
When they were alone, he said, “So you frightened away my servant?”
“You know I didn’t, Simon,” she said coolly. “He simply looked between us and left.”
“Why are you here?”
“Not so polite when we’re alone?”
He gripped the arms of his chair, then forced his fingers to relax. “Louisa, you would try the patience of a saint. And I’m not a saint.”
“I’m sorry.” She whispered the words.
He groaned and closed his eyes. “I didn’t mean—God this is awkward.”
“I know. And it’s all my fault. I wouldn’t have intruded, except that Georgie left with your grandmother to visit several invalids of the parish. I’m certain there will be other girls her age accompanying their mothers. Georgie didn’t want to leave you, because she knew how much you depended on her assistance. So I volunteered to take her place.”
Their awkward silence was gradually suffused with a passionate tension that he didn’t know how to combat.
“Do you feel this?” she suddenly whispered. “It’s like there’s something in the air whenever I’m with you. Is this…normal?”
So he wasn’t alone in this rising desire. He wanted to pretend he didn’t understand, but he couldn’t embarrass her like that. “It’s my fault.”
“You didn’t do anything. You haven’t even looked at me, and yet I feel…”
