A Taste of Desire(106)
“Have you any plans for today, Amelia?” Again, Missy spoke to her as one would an intimate, very familiar and warm. To Amelia, even after such a short acquaintance, something in Missy’s manner felt right.
“I—”
“Yes, I plan to take Amelia into town. I thought she would enjoy Windsor’s shops, especially during the height of the season,” Thomas cut in.
Now she did look at him. He intended they spend the entire day together. Joy gripped her and refused to let go. She grew dizzy with it.
Thomas offered her a half smile. His gaze became hooded when it drifted to her mouth. Her breasts peaked and her skin tingled, her body responding as if it had been a physical touch.
“Yes, I would enjoy that tremendously.” She tried to sound not quite so much like an adoring simpleton.
James cleared his throat while Missy unsuccessfully attempted to hide a smile behind her serviette.
“I believe Catherine and Charlotte would enjoy a trip into town. Catherine in particular, for she adores the stores.” Missy directed her statement to her brother, a dark eyebrow arched. Amelia understood the look immediately. The countess didn’t trust him—them. While at her home they may enjoy their privacy; in public they would be circumspect, adhering to some form of propriety even if it was the chaperone of two sixteen-year-old girls.
A momentary tightening of Thomas’s features indicated his chagrin, but he conceded with a curt nod. Obviously they would have to curtail any physical intimacies. Amelia couldn’t help a stab of disappointment, her body already impatient for his next caress, his next touch, his next scorching kiss. Today would indeed be a very long day, her mind already on the homecoming. Her only solace was that she’d be spending it in Thomas’s company.
An hour and a half later, Amelia, Thomas, and Catherine boarded the black-lacquered brougham. The weather was ideal for their trip. Snow, fluffy and light, lazily circled the air before settling on graveled roads and dormant foliage in a white blanket. Catherine fairly bounced onto the seat, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. Peering out the window, she exclaimed, “The snow is so pretty.”
Thomas took the seat across from them, his gaze flitting to Catherine’s pink-cheeked face before returning a steady regard to her. Amelia had to look away. It was all too much. The wanting, the yearning, and not being able to have him at that very moment.
She needed a distraction. “Did your sister not want to come as well?” She thought all girls their age lived for things like shopping, baubles, and whatnot.
Catherine shoved her hands deeper into the muffs, yanking her gaze from a terrain of naked trees with snow-laden branches. Her mouth formed a pout. “She said she’d rather finish her book. But I know it’s because Alex is here. Everyone knows it. She does it every time.”
Thomas smiled dryly. “And you find this vexing?”
“I think it’s terribly silly is all. Alex will never pay her any mind. Anyway, he’s much too old for her.” With her brows furrowed and her mouth set in a pink line, she resembled a displeased golden-haired Dresden doll.
Amelia could easily see how a young girl like Charlotte could fall for the raven-haired lord. He was dangerous enough to the women of London as the second son, Lord help them all if he had been born heir to the dukedom.
“Not that I am encouraging her, but I once thought the same about Missy and Rutherford. Now look at them. She set her sights on him when she was but ten years of age.” Thomas reposed back in the velvet-cushioned seat, his legs splayed negligently, amusement lighting his eyes.
Was that what explained their easy familiarity, the connection between the two a stranger could pick up within seconds of observing them together? A pang of envy shot through her. She couldn’t tear her gaze from Thomas, or he from her.
“I just think it’s silly,” Catherine mumbled, turning back to the window. “Oh!” she cried after a minute pause. “Notice how pretty the street looks.”
Amelia reluctantly directed her attention to the scene beyond the window. The carriage was rumbling down a paved road leading to the main street. Not far in the distance, storefronts lined the street, the lampposts gaily decorated with miniature wreaths and shiny red bows, making for the quintessential Christmas tableau.
They spent the next several hours traipsing through almost every shop on Peascod Street. Thomas was solicitous in his attendance, escorting her about like a suitor on his best behavior. That is, save a smoldering glance and the lingering touch here and there that had her already-heightened senses in constant flux. Catherine appeared quite oblivious to it all, chattering on and exclaiming over every pretty trinket and ribbon she saw.