Page 57 of As the Earl Likes
“Indeed, I did. I’m compiling a book of my drawings and descriptions. It should be available later this year.”
“How splendid,” Jo said with enthusiasm. “I look forward to purchasing a copy. Will you be giving any lectures about your experiences there?”
“I will indeed. I shall ensure you receive an invitation,” Sir Alfred said jovially before turning his attention to someone else who’d arrived at the table.
“Did you feel it?” Jo asked Sheff.
He touched the wool she still held, his fingers grazing hers. “Very soft. And so is the wool.” He gave her a crooked smile, and Jo smirked as she rolled her eyes.
“You are a terrible flirt.”
“I can’t help myself with you,” he said with a light laugh, his head tilting toward hers.
She set the wool back on the table but did not draw on her glove just yet. “Shall we go find the wood he mentioned?”
“We’ll make our way in that direction.”
Tucking her hand around his arm once more, Jo realized the folly in not putting her glove back on. It was far more intimate to touch him with her bare hand. And tantalizing.
As they moved to the next table, they encountered Mr. and Mrs. Davenport, who’d hosted the literary salon on Monday. “How pleasant to see you here,” Mrs. Davenport said.
Jo looked toward Sheff. “Do you know Mrs. Davenport?”
“I think we have met at some point,” Sheff said with a smile. “You host the literary salons Jo is so fond of.”
“Yes. We look forward to when she joins us as a hostess in her own right,” Mrs. Davenport said with considerable glee. “I do hope you enjoy literature, my lord.”
“I do, indeed. I look forward to my wife’s salons and hope you will come. Perhaps you’d even see fit to invite me to one of yours,” he added with a flirtatious wink.
Jo squeezed his arm provoking him to glance at her. She gave him an exasperated look. His lips twitched in response.
“I most certainly will,” Mrs. Davenport said.
They chatted a bit longer before continuing on their separate ways.
“I wanted to ask if you liked to read,” Jo said to Sheff. “What type of literature is your favorite?”
“I enjoy reading historical accounts. I haven’t ever been terribly fond of novels.”
“What about poetry?” she asked.
“The more risqué the better,” he said with a laugh.
“You would have appreciated Lady Standish’s offerings the other night. She had one poem in particular that was rather…stirring.”
He arched a brow. “As in, it aroused you?”
“It spoke of arousal. She compared the ocean to having an orgasm.” Too late, Jo realized this was not a good topic for them to converse about. “Shall we go feel the wood?”
And that was somehow better?
Sheff choked out a laugh. “If you are trying to arouse me, you are doing a fine job. But then, all you need do, really, is exist.”
How had that happened? She didn’t think she’d aroused him before they’d launched this scheme. If so, he’d never shown it. “What has changed to make you feel that way?” She should not be asking him such things in a place like this. Or anywhere. “Never mind.”
He pulled her to the side of the room. They’d been speaking softly, but now he lowered his voice even more. “I don’t really know what has changed, but something has. And I know you feel it too.”
Jo said nothing, but she absolutely felt it—deep in her core. Standing here with him, her bare hand on his sleeve, their bodies close, she wanted nothing more than to give in to that something.
