Page 3 of Thief of the Ton
“Oh, yes—but notthere. Could you move, just a little to the…Oh!”
“Just there?”
“Oh,Heath!”
The shape on the bed reared up, and Lavinia caught sight of a face illuminated in the moonlight—handsome enough, but its features bore the streak of cruelty often seen in rakes.
Lavinia fought the urge to flee. But she’d have to pass the bed, and she couldn’t risk being seen, even if the couple in the bed were occupied with their own gratification.
“Turn over.” The male voice, low and thick, came in hoarse rasps.
More rustling of bedsheets, and Lavinia caught sight of a female form, in a white night rail, her hair hanging loosely about her face.
“That’s my mare—my beautiful mare.”
“Oh!” Lady Francis let out a shrill cry, which sounded distinctly horselike. Then the male form moved again, and she let out a low wail.
Was she in pain?
The wailing increased, punctuated by low grunts, then Lady Francis let out another cry.
“That’s it, my beast! Ride me like a stallion—an Arabian stallion!”
An Arabian stallion?
Lavinia’s body convulsed as she fought the urge to laugh.
But the couple on the bed were too occupied with each other to notice. Their breaths came out in unison, guttural gasps that increased in pace and intensity, until the bed began to knock against the chamber walls.
Lavinia dashed toward the door. The danger was not in the rutting pair noticing her, but in their waking the entire household and bringing all manner of guests and servants into the chamber. She needed to get away—quickly.
She exited the chamber and retraced her footsteps toward the sound of Dunton’s snoring, wrinkling her nose at the odor as she slipped inside his chamber.
“Your Grace, you really should see a doctor about your stomach,” she whispered.
Then she padded across the carpet toward the window and slipped through it. Once outside, she eased herself down the wall and jumped onto the gravel path.
Her mission accomplished, she dashed across the lawn toward the driveway, where Samson waited patiently, tethered beside a tree.
The animal lifted its head in greeting as she approached. She untied the reins, then lifted her foot into the stirrup and mounted the horse.
Aunt Edna would have a fit of apoplexy if she caught Lavinia riding astride—but she would never find out.
Nobodywould.
The identity of the Phoenix would be the mystery of the Season, but they’d all be looking for aman.
She had taken the first step on the road to restoring her father’s peace of mind before he was no more.
I’m doing this for you, Papa. One down, four to go.
She curled her fingers around the reins and steered her mount down the drive. Once clear, she urged Samson into a canter.
She was free.
But the image of the couple in the bedchamber remained in her mind. Though she grimaced at the notion of Lady Francis and her affair with Heath Moss, she couldn’t help the frisson of envy.
Her treacherous body had ignited with a wicked little pulse of longing.
