Page 95 of Oddity of the Ton
“Leonard! Over here.”
Sir Leonard flinched at his wife’s voice. Then, with a sigh of resignation, he sauntered over in her direction.
“You simply must tell the duchess about your newest consignment of silks.” Lady Howard leaned toward Monty’s mother. “They’re the mostexquisitecolors,” she said. “Everyone in London iswildfor them. Sir Leonard is very discerning when it comes to his clientele, but he’ll make an exception for your modiste.”
Monty’s mother turned her head, slowly, until she faced Lady Howard, her eyes glittering with warning.
Did the woman ever cease talking? Her voice was enough to induce a megrim in the strongest of constitutions.
Monty approached Miss Howard. “Are you well—Eleanor?”
She nodded, not meeting his gaze, and continued twirling her bracelet.
“It’s no trouble, I assure you, Duchess!” Lady Howard cried, and Eleanor visibly shook.
“Mother,” Monty said, “might you oblige us with a little music?”
“Of course, dear boy.” The dowager rose and crossed the floor to the pianoforte.
Dear boy?
If Mother kept up such cordiality, he’d be obliged to inquire whether she’d taken a bump to the head.
She lowered herself onto the piano stool and began to play a gentle tune. The room seemed to sigh with relief as the air filled with soft music against the backdrop of the crackling of the fire. Not even Lady Howard would dare talk over the performance of a duchess.
Monty sat beside Eleanor and reached for her. She hesitated, then placed her hand over his.
What greater pleasure was there to be had, here in his home—and in the company of a remarkable young woman—away from the harsh chatter of Society?
What a pity their arrangement was soon to come to an end!
The evening drew to a close, and James escorted the dowager to her carriage, while the remainder of the guests dispersed to their various chambers.
Lady Marlow beckoned to Miss Howard. “Come along, Eleanor—we’ve an early start in the morning.”
“I’ll escort Miss Howard to her chamber, Lady Marlow,” Monty said.
She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think that’s entirely—”
“It’s all right, Lavinia,” Miss Howard said.
“Very well,” Lady Marlow said, “but mind you treat my friend with respect.”
What a harridan she was! Did she think that as soon as her back was turned, Monty would toss up Miss Howard’s skirts and fuck her against the wall?
Saints alive!
He drew in a sharp breath as his cock stiffened against his breeches at the delicious notion of Miss Howard’s eyes wide with surprise, and dark with need, as he pounded inside her, pinning her to the wall while she writhed in pleasure and screamed his name.
She tipped her face up, her soulful eyes breaching the armor that encased his heart.
He took her hand. “I find myself somewhat melancholy tonight,” he said.
“How so?”
“My house will be empty once more tomorrow.”
“You’ll still have your mother, and”—she lowered her voice—“Olivia is only a short walk away.”
