A Daring Liaison(8)

For one prurient moment he found himself wondering if the hollow of her throat was still soft and sweet, if he would be able to feel her heartbeat there, quickening against his lips. Did her passions run hotter now that she was an experienced woman? How fierce would she be in making love?

Sarah noticed his approach and smiled a welcome. “Ah, I thought you’d be here, Charles. With your imminent appointment to the Foreign Office, you could scarce afford to miss this event. The American ambassador—perhaps you will be sent to America.”

His imminent appointment? Now, why hadn’t he heard this? Another of Wycliffe’s ploys to convince him to investigate the Widow of Kent? He forced a smile and bowed. “Dear sister. Mrs. Huffington.” He greeted the ladies. “I trust you are well?”

Sarah turned to Mrs. Huffington, deferring to her for an answer.

“Very well, thank you,” she said. Her full lips curved in a smile both wise and innocent.

Charles knew when a woman was attracted to him, and knew by her smile that she recognized the attraction was still mutual. The question was what she would do with that knowledge. Time to test the waters.

“Have you taken care of your business in town, Mrs. Huffington?”

“I’ve done no more than make appointments, sir. I think all of London must be waiting on someone or other.”

He laughed at her assessment. “Then you will be with us for a while yet?”

“So it would seem.”

“And I am doing my best to keep her diverted,” Sarah said. “I am taking her to my modiste tomorrow.”

Ethan slipped his hand into Sarah’s, an endearing gesture that belied their four years of marriage. “Her favorite establishment,” he explained. “Though I always suspect there is some manner of mischief afoot there.”

Sarah nudged him. “Tease! The only mischief is to your accounts. Marie is simply the best dressmaker ever. One has not truly arrived in London until one has had a gown fashioned by Madame Marie. Her judgment is unerring.”

Ethan read Charles’s expression, smiled and edged a knowing glance toward Mrs. Huffington. “Have you seen the Hawthorne gardens, Mrs. Huffington? The topiary is extraordinary.”

“I’ve not had that pleasure, Lord Ethan.”

Taking the cue, Charles offered his arm. “Allow me to show you the grounds, Mrs. Huffington.”

She hesitated, then blinked and took his arm, her hand trembling just a little, and he surmised she had been about to refuse. Did she realize he was on to her “poor widow” act? That his interest in her now was due to his suspicion of her? Or was she remembering their last encounter in a garden?

“Bring Georgiana back before long, Charlie. I really must introduce her around,” Sarah called after them.

He gave his sister a sardonic wink. Sarah had admonished him more than once for his rakish ways, but he was not about to lie just to set her mind at ease. Instead, he led Mrs. Huffington through the ballroom and out to the terrace.

“I fear I’ve appropriated you with falsehoods, Mrs. Huffington,” he admitted.

“You have no knowledge of topiaries?”

He smiled down at her, a bit diverted by the subtle scent of her perfume—a note of flowers blended with ambergris—similar to the scent his former mistress had used. But on Mrs. Huffington it was quite heady. Lush and seductive. “None,” he admitted. “Absolutely none.”

“Then we shall have to bumble along on our own, shan’t we?”

Quite adventurous of her. He’d just given her the perfect excuse to return to the house, and she hadn’t taken it—not that he’d have let her escape. Perhaps she had her own reasons for wanting to speak to him alone.

They strolled deeper into the twilight, guided by the lantern-lit paths. She did not prattle on like most women in like situations. To the contrary, after her initial reluctance, she seemed composed and calm, and he supposed that was due to the familiarity of such a walk. Had her husbands strolled with her through gardens before going down on bended knee?

They reached a path of hedges trimmed in various forms. He paused at one with a sharp spire. “Here we have the ever-popular boxwoodicus pointum.”

She laughed, a sound that sent a shiver up his spine. “I shall commit that to my memory, Mr. Hunter.”

He led her a bit farther from the house, curious how far he might take her. Far enough for privacy? “How have you come to know my sister?”