Page 117 of Harpy of the Ton
“Would you help me with the design? You could come with me the next time I visit Mr. Trelawney.”
“Me?”
He kissed her again. “Yes, love. You’re clever, resourceful, with a heart as big as the world. I’ve been a fool not to have seen your worth until now. And if you can assist me with designing a garden suitable for a lady”—he licked his lips—“I can reward you.”
“I’m no lady,” she said.
He frowned, and once more she saw a flash of guilt in his eyes. “To me, you’ll always be a lady.”
She brushed her lips against his. “And you are my lord.”
“Sweet heaven,” he sighed. “What have I done to deserve a woman such as you? I shall never take you for granted again—and I’ll spend the rest of our lives together showing you just how much I love you.”
“Then, my love,” she said, “that shall be reward enough.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Lawrence steered thehorse along the tree-lined drive, until the manor came into view.
His wife drew in a sharp breath.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked. “I’m afraid it was rather a long ride.”
“I’m quite comfortable,” she said. “I wonder if I’ve ridden before—it feels familiar.”
“Does something else trouble you?”
She gestured ahead. “That house—it’s huge! Is Mr. Trelawney very rich?”
“He’s earned his fortune, rather than inherited it.”
“Then he’s the same as you.”
“No, love—he’s far above me.”
“Don’t say such things, Lawrence. You’re the best man that ever lived. Nobody is above you.”
He gave her waist an affectionate squeeze, then urged their mount on, drawing to a halt at the main entrance. He dismounted, then helped his wife down, and she offered her lips for a kiss.
Could he be any luckier? Since their first time, they’d spent almost every moment alone loving each other, their bodies coming to pleasure together every time—and she gave him more pleasure than he could ever have imagined.
And with her drawings tucked into the satchel over his shoulders, she was about to transform his future.
No—theirfuture.
“Ahem.”
Mr. Trelawney’s butler stood beside the entrance.
Bella let out a soft cry and lowered her gaze, blushing. Lawrence’s cock twitched at the expression in her eyes—desire tempered by a frisson of guilt at being caught.
“Forgive me,” Lawrence said. “It’s Mr. Jenkins, isn’t it? We’re here to see your master.”
“Mr. Trelawney’s expecting you, Mr. Baxter, but not…” The butler glanced at Bella.
“I’ve brought my wife to explain the designs,” Lawrence said.
The butler raised his eyebrows. “Very well. James!”
