Page 66 of The Duchess in His Bed
The following dawn, Selena wasn’t at all surprised to see Aiden standing by a lamppost outside his club. The coach had barely slowed when he opened the door, hopped in, and pounded the ceiling before settling in across from her. The vehicle carried on, the horses barely breaking stride.
And the confines suddenly seemed far too small. His presence enveloped the space, his scent of bay rum wafted around her. She had a strong urge to invite him to sit beside her, to have the warmth of his body seep into her on this chilly morning. Although to be honest, she wouldn’t object to his warmth seeping into her on a sultry afternoon. It was somewhat torturous to have him so near and yet so far away. She finally found the wherewithal to greet him properly. “Good morning.”
“You smell differently in the morning.”
He couldn’t have unsettled her more if he’d leaned in and kissed her. Words failed her.
“You carry the scent of sleep.” His voice was low, raw, as though he were imagining awakening with her in his arms and sniffing every inch of her skin.
“Perhaps you’ll experience it before I awaken if we move forward with the plans.” She was rather proud of that volley, could sense him going very still across from her.
“If I don’t agree to strive to get you with child—it doesn’t mean we can’t become involved.”
She’d spent a good deal of last night, when she couldn’t sleep, ruminating on that possibility, to simply lose herself in him, surrounded by him. To escape with him would be far more rewarding than the pages of any book. But that was a selfish desire, want. She had such a short time in which to gain what she needed. “I fear, Mr. Trewlove, you have the wrong of it there. If you cannot give me what I require, I will have to go elsewhere.”
Although she couldn’t imagine taking another man between her thighs. Even now she wanted Aiden with a need that was frightening. Rather than remain on that path of thought, she decided to alter the direction of their conversation. “It was very kind of you to send the book to Alice.”
The sky was lightening, and she more easily saw his shrug, as though his gift had been nothing at all. Reaching into her reticule, she removed the sealed letter that Alice had given her and held it out to him. “Alice sends her appreciation.”
He took the missive and tucked it into a pocket inside the left breast of his jacket.
“I take it she passed your test.”
With a deep sigh, he stretched out his long legs, so his booted feet rested on either side of hers. “I like your sisters.”
It was a simple statement, but it held a great deal of warmth and approval. “I like yours as well. And your brothers. The little bit I saw of them.”
“Fancy had them working their backsides off.”
“She has a great deal of ambition, your sister.”
“We all do.” He glanced out the window. “Nothing was handed to us, nothing has come easily.”
She wondered if he were contemplating how easily he might hand his son a dukedom. Or his daughter properties and marriage into the nobility. He was the result of a man who seemed to plant his seed hither and yon with no regard for the consequences. Aiden, on the other hand, accepted responsibility for all his actions. She didn’t think his adopted mother would have accepted less of her children.
“The cook prepared us a light repast. Bread, cheese, boiled eggs.” She would have tapped the wicker basket on the floor in the corner if it wouldn’t have meant tangling her skirts in his leg, having it between her calves, conjuring up images of other aspects of him between her knees.
“I’ve eaten, thank you. Would you like me to hand the basket up to you?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m not hungry.” She’d eaten as well, worried that with his nearness her stomach might have knotted until she couldn’t digest properly. What if he wasn’t impressed with Sheffield Hall?
They were leaving London proper now, the buildings becoming sparser, more distance separating them. The sun was rising ever higher. It appeared spring might be well on its way to making itself known.
“Fancy is your mother’s daughter, born to her, unlike the rest of you, who were not.” The resemblance between mother and daughter was striking.
His eyes slid away from the view to land on her with the full weight of his attention. “Yes.”
“So when you were first brought to her, she was married. You had both a father and a mother.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “No, she was already a widow. She took in bastards as a means for supporting herself. But it’s not a lucrative practice if you allow the children to live. Their upkeep is costly, much more than the few coins placed in your palm when you take them.”
The practice of farming out children born out of wedlock so the mother could remain as untainted as possible was becoming more widely known. Selena had read several articles written by Lady Lavinia exposing the horrors of what she’d discovered in her quest to rescue children from those who would do them harm. “Your mother was not married when Fancy was born?”
“Just spit it out, Selena. Fancy is a bastard, like all of us. And before you travel a path and view my mum as immoral, know that Fancy was the result of our mum doing what she had to do to ensure our survival. When she didn’t have coins for the landlord, he took payment in other ways. Fancy was an unintended consequence.” His gaze bore into her. “So I understand your desperation.”
He was liking her situation to his mother’s? They were nothing alike. But the argument fell short because they were indeed very similar: she was willingly going to take a man within her body in order to ensure the best lives possible for her siblings. His mother had been doing it for the children she’d adopted. “I was not sitting in judgment of her.”
“Weren’t you?”
