Page 95 of The Time for Love
Lady Bracknell tossed her napkin on the table and pushed back her chair. “Let’s adjourn to the drawing room and take final stock there.”
In a loose group, they trailed her and Julia to the drawing room and resumed their now-accustomed seats.
“I’ve instructed Higginbotham to bring in the tea trolley as soon as he’s free to do so.” Lady Bracknell looked around the assembled company. “Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”
They fell to discussing the roles each of them would play throughout the following day, then moved on to speculating how matters might pan out. Eventually, Higginbotham wheeled in the tea trolley, and they gratefully accepted and drained their cups, then Julia, Edward, Oliver, and Charlie rose to leave.
With Sophy and her ladyship, Martin walked out to the front hall to farewell the others. Everyone had agreed that he and Sophy should remain in St. James’ Street for the moment, and Roland was hovering in the shadows at the rear of the hall, waiting for any instructions Martin cared to give.
He saw the others off first. All four assured Lady Bracknell, Sophy, and him that they would return in good time to help with the final arrangements for the first stage in their plan, namely the luncheon her ladyship would host tomorrow.
Lady Bracknell welcomed all offers of help. “For we won’t know until an hour or so before exactly how many will be attending.” She glanced at Higginbotham. “Quite like old times, Higginbotham, playing host to so many at once.”
“Indeed, ma’am.” Higginbotham bowed. “The staff are looking forward to the challenge.”
Martin grinned, as did Sophy, then Higginbotham swung open the door, and the others stepped out.
Hector went first, accompanying Julia and assisting her into the waiting carriage. Edward insisted on taking Charlie and Oliver up in his town carriage and delivering the pair to Oliver’s hotel before heading south to Sycamore Street.
The instant the front door shut, Lady Bracknell heaved a huge sigh and swung toward the stairs. “Come along, Sophy, my dear. I need my beauty sleep if I’m to act as hostess for our luncheon tomorrow.”
Sophy cast a questioning look Martin’s way. He pointed at Roland, waiting in the shadows, then nodded.
With a secretive, expectant smile on her lips, Sophy looped her arm with her grandmother’s, and together, the ladies ascended the stairs.
Martin watched them go, then Roland came forward.
After conveying his orders for Roland, Figgs, and especially Tunstall for the following day, Martin dismissed Roland to return to the Kings Head and, finally, headed up the stairs.
His hostess was long gone, but Sophy was waiting in the gallery. She turned to him as he neared, and a tempting smile curved her lips. “I’ve sent my maid to bed.”
He arched a brow. “Have you?”
“I have, indeed.” She linked her arm with his and paced on beside him. “I’m all yours.”
He fought to hide the surge of possessiveness that declaration provoked. Noting that she was propelling him—rather determinedly—toward his room, he asked, “What are your plans?”
He’d thought to distract her or at least slow her down, but she had an answer ready. “Grandmama is right. We’ve done all we can, and now we need to set everything down, trust in our preparations, and stop thinking and fretting long enough to get some sleep.”
“Is that so?”
She nodded and, from the corner of her eye, caught his amused gaze. “And I’ve realized that we’ll both accomplish that much more readily if I join you in your bed.”
He had to laugh. “I see.”
“Indeed.” With provocative assurance, she tipped up her chin. “I rather think my conclusion is incontestable.”
“I’m not arguing.” They’d arrived at his room, and he reached for the doorknob and set the door swinging wide.
She swept into the room, halted, and turned. She allowed him just long enough to cross the threshold and shut the door before launching herself into his arms.
Laughing, he caught her and met her hungry lips with his. Equally hungry, equally greedy for the succor they both could take and give.
With her locked within one arm, her svelte body stretching upward against his, her soft curves pressing into his harder frame in blatant and potent temptation, he knew she had it right. Together, they had precisely the right prescription to stop each other from thinking, to suspend each other’s thoughts.
And tonight, they needed that mental surcease.
He raised a hand, cradled her jaw, and held her captive as he plunged them both deeper into the passionate exchange.
