Goddess of the Hunt (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #1)(58)

Lucy reached into a great black sleeve and found one of the old lady’s papery hands. “Her hands are ice.” She rubbed the chilled, bony fingers between her own.

She looked around. The men stood at the edge of the terrace, conferring with the servants. Kitty went to Felix’s side and assailed him with questions. Lucy was dimly aware of Henry gesturing with a torch and saying something about a pallet and blankets. Her attention was largely drawn to a tall figure in the shadows behind her brother. A broad-shouldered silhouette framed by white linen that gleamed in the moonlight. She couldn’t see his face, but she could feel his gaze on her, burning through the midnight chill.

Then Toby emerged from the shadows and strode into the circle of light.

Oh, thank God, Lucy thought. Thank God she already knew she didn’t love him. Because in the eight years she had spent admiring his physical beauty, Toby had never looked more splendid. He wore a greatcoat that gaped in front to reveal a bare chest. The torchlight bronzed every muscled plane and contour of his torso. His golden-brown hair was windblown and wild. He looked magnificent and pagan, like a piece of garden statuary brought to life. Lucy felt pagan just looking at him.

Beside her, Sophia gasped. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, my.”

Toby brushed past Felix and crossed directly to Sophia. He eyed her from head to toe, his gaze lingering over a few areas in between. “God in heaven, look at you.” He shook his head slightly and jerked his eyes back to her face. “You must be freezing.”

Sophia nodded slightly. Her gaze did its own share of wandering and lingering over his bare chest.

Toby stripped off his coat and flung it around Sophia’s shoulders. He stood bare to the waist in the bitter night wind, but Lucy could have sworn she saw steam rising from his body.

“Better?” he asked Sophia hoarsely.

She nodded.

“Do you feel warm?”

“Everywhere,” Sophia breathed. She stared up at him, entranced. “Everywhere … except my feet.”

Toby looked down to where Sophia’s bare feet met the cold flagstones. Without a word, he hefted her into his arms and settled her against his chest. The blue silk of her peignoir flowed over his arms like a waterfall, and her golden hair fanned over his bare shoulder.

“Better?”

Sophia nodded again and made a small squeaking sound, presumably of agreement. Toby looked into her face and swallowed hard.

“Oh, bloody hell,” he said, as though it were poetry. And then he kissed her.

Lucy knew the polite response would have been to look away. Study the cobbled path beneath her feet. Admire the swan-shaped topiary. Stare up at the night sky. But a polite response was beyond her at the moment. She gaped openly. And since no one around her remarked on the flagstones or the hedges or the stars overhead, she assumed she was not alone.

At last, Aunt Matilda broke the stunned silence. “Lovely.”

“Felix!” Kitty prodded her husband in the ribs. “Don’t you think you should do something?”

Felix snapped his jaw shut and looked to his wife. “Oh, very well.” He took off his own coat and held it out to her. Kitty shook her head and looked at him as though he were mad. “You don’t mean for me to pick you up?” he asked, his face uncertain. “I’m not sure I—”

“Not me.” She jerked her head toward Toby and Sophia.“Them.”

Comprehension made its slow journey across Felix’s face. “Right,” he said softly. Then, a bit louder, “Ahem.”

Toby and Sophia remained joined at the lips and oblivious to all else.

Felix raised his voice. “I say, Toby.” No response. “Toby!” he fairly shouted.

Toby reluctantly broke the kiss. He kept his eyes closed and his forehead pressed against Sophia’s. “What is it, Felix?”

Felix shuffled his feet. “Sorry to interrupt, man, but I believe this is where I’m supposed to remind you that’s my sister-in-law you’re … holding.” He absorbed the pointed look Kitty gave him. “Was there something you meant to ask her?”

“Right.” Toby opened his eyes and straightened away from Sophia’s flushed face. He cleared his throat. “Miss Hathaway,” he began, shifting her weight in his arms, “It has been many months now that I have admired your elegance and the beauty of your …” His gaze wandered down her form. “Your character. The attachment I feel toward you transcends …” He looked back up at her lips and paused. “Transcends …”

Sophia smiled and bit back a small laugh.

“Oh, bloody hell,” he said again, bending his head to hers and stealing the laughter from her lips. “Marry me?”

Even if she’d wished to, Sophia could not have uttered a reply. Toby was keeping her lips occupied. Her lips, and—from the looks of things—her tongue, as well. But somehow she managed a muffled squeak of acceptance. Really, Lucy thought, Sophia’s whole body bespoke acceptance.

“Well, then,” said Felix. “That’s settled. Carry on.” As if either Toby or Sophia cared one whit for his permission. If they kept up like this any longer, Henry had better send the footmen off for a vicar and special license, instead of a pallet and blankets. Lucy told herself once again that she ought to look away. But from the general silence, it seemed no one else was looking away either.