Page 68 of Impassioned
He stared at her, bemused by her understanding when her own mother hadn’t demonstrated such emotion. “Youarewise, against the odds, I will add, given what I know of your family.” He put his hand over hers against his cheek.
She leaned forward and touched her lips to his. The connection was a balm to his soul, easing an ache he’d thought could never be alleviated.
The coach stopped, and they abruptly parted. She withdrew her hand, and he let her go, though he wanted nothing more than to keep holding her in any way that he could. What was happening to him?
The door opened, and they exited the coach. They walked close together to the door, her arm entwined with his. A few moments later, they strolled into the Brightlys’ parlor.
Mrs. Brightly, a cheerful woman approaching thirty with a heart-shaped face and round, brown eyes, dropped into a formal curtsey. “Good evening, my lord, my lady.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Brightly,” Sabrina responded with a smile. “We so appreciate your invitation to join you this evening.”
“It is our honor.” Mrs. Brightly stepped forward toward Sabrina. “Come, let us sit for a bit before dinner is served. Would you care for sherry or marsala, or something else?”
“What are you having?” Sabrina accompanied her to a large seating area.
Mrs. Brightly sat on a narrow settee, and Brightly joined her there. “The marsala. It’s divine.”
Sabrina took a seat on another wider settee covered in a rich, teal blue damask. Constantine followed and sat beside her, though not as close as their hosts were sitting. But then, the Brightlys’ furnishing ensured a rather intimate proximity.
“Then that’s what I shall have,” Sabrina said to their hostess. “I find I’m distressingly partial to nearly all fortified wine. I only recently discovered this when his lordship arranged for me to taste several varieties so I could compare them.”
“That sounds like such fun.” Mrs. Brightly turned to her husband. “We must do that.”
Brightly regarded her with a glowing expression. “Your wish is always my command, my love.”
Already, Constantine felt the palpable connection between the Brightlys. It was always thus—it was no mystery how the couple felt about one another. Glancing toward Sabrina, he wondered if she noticed it. Both tonight and on their previous visits.
“Wilkes, four marsalas, if you please.” Brightly looked to Constantine. “If that’s all right with you? Keeps things simple, and it’s a marvelous bottle, if I do say so.”
“Brilliant,” Constantine said, wondering if he ought to inch closer to Sabrina. He wanted to. Since she’d kissed him in the coach, perhaps she wanted the same.
The butler, who had lingered in the doorway after showing Constantine and Sabrina to the parlor, poured and distributed the wine. He then departed.
Brightly sipped his marsala before putting his arm along the back of the settee behind his wife. “I must tell you, Aldington, Mrs. Brightly and I received invitations to the Phoenix Club yesterday. I am rather shocked.” He exchanged an excited look with Mrs. Brightly. They seemed to be suppressing, rather poorly, a sense of glee.
“This pleases you, I take it?” Constantine asked even as his insides felt as though he’d swallowed acid. Why was he not good enough for the club? A club run by his brother who claimed to be looking out for him.
“I’m quite thrilled,” Mrs. Brightly said, her eyes dancing. “I understand I can visit the gentlemen’s side on Tuesdays. And then there are the exclusive assemblies on Friday. It’s all so decadent!”
“Lady Aldington is a member,” Constantine said rather tightly. The press of Sabrina’s thigh against his startled him. She’d moved closer. Her hand rested on her lap but was quite close to his. His pulse thrummed.
“How splendid!” Mrs. Brightly looked to Sabrina. “Were you there last night, Lady Aldington?”
Constantine felt her stiffen and knew her answer. Just as he knew she hadn’t told him.
“Er, yes.” She flicked a look toward Constantine. “It was my first opportunity to visit on a Tuesday, and Lord Lucien—Aldington’s brother—showed me around.”
“I hear the gaming room can be quite raucous,” Brightly said.
“And the décor is reputed to be opulent.” Mrs. Brightly lifted her marsala to take a drink.
Sabrina leaned her head toward Constantine’s. “I was going to tell you,” she whispered.
Mrs. Brightly looked to Constantine. “Lord Aldington, you can escort Horace while Lady Aldington does the same for me.”
“I am not a member.” Constantine took a long sip of the marsala, allowing the sweet wine to coat his tongue.
Mrs. Brightly paled, and Brightly moved his arm to her upper back. He squeezed her shoulder and gave Constantine a rather pained smile. “Apologies, Aldington.”
