Chapter Seven
A lfred led her down the street and into an alleyway. She halted and tugged him back, her hand still on his arm. Her back was against the rusticated lower level of a Palladian Marylebone house.
“Trust me?” He looked down at her and his soft words sounded earnest. “It’s a shortcut.”
She swallowed hard. He was a stranger, regardless of his stunning smile and soft blue eyes. If they got caught… or worse if he… and they didn’t… But what was back home that couldn’t wait? Charlotte and new silks to press, muslins to fold, and shoes to wedge into the already overstuffed cabinet. And didn’t her father always say that shortcuts in card games were like routes for a ship? Her life was lacking direction. Even a shortcut might lead her out of the rut into which she’d become trapped.
Ada bit the inside of her cheek and took heart.
And in about a minute, they stepped into a vast open space. Green grass and colorful beds of crocuses, tulips, and hyacinths stretched as far as she could see.
“How did we get back to Regent’s Park?” she asked.
“I grew up in London. I know my way around.” He nodded in the direction of the boating pond opposite Ulster Terrace.
“Have you always lived in Marylebone?” she asked.
“Yes. My parents used to own a lovely house on Wimpole Street, not far from here.”
“You speak as if you miss it.”
“I do. We had a beautiful home. It had an exquisite stucco-covered facade and balconies with decorative ironwork. Mother had two potted roses on either side of the door. My room was on the third floor, my little brother’s and my parents’ bedroom on the fourth.”
“It sounds like you had a wonderful childhood home.”
“That we did, my brother and I.” He hung his head. “And I will get that house back one day.”
“What happened to it?”
“My parents sold it to pay for my brother and me to attend university in Edinburgh.”
“I’ve heard of the medical faculty there—”
“Yes, the school is well-known as the best. And the most expensive.” He pressed his lips and gestured ahead, cutting the moment short as if he didn’t want to say more about his past.
“Oh, my!” Ada saw a large tartan blanket spread out with an array of pastries not far from the main path, under a tree so they were shaded from the strong rays of the sun. “A picnic?”
Alfred gestured for her to take a seat.
She looked around; Alfred had walked her around the block so the patissier had had enough time to make his delivery and spread the blanket for them. “How did the patissier know to bring everything here?”
“He’s done it many times for me, even though I’m not sure I ever bought quite this much for only two people.”
As they settled onto the soft blanket, a tantalizing aroma of baked goods wafted through the air like a warm embrace with the promise of sweet indulgence.
“Do you bring all the women here you wish to seduce?” The question slipped from her lips before the thought had matured. She cringed as the words emerged and barely dared to look at Alfred.
“I’ve only ever been here with Wendy and Nick.”
“Who’s Wendy?”
“The nurse. Nick Folsham’s sister, the oculist.” He reached for a madeleine sprinkled with powdered sugar. “One of the doctors at 87 Harley Street. He and I—” he chewed with gusto—“we took our exams together. Not all of them. But you know, studying makes a body hungry. You met the apothecary, but I’ll introduce you to the others someday.”
“You picnicked here with the other doctors?”
“Well, we weren’t licensed. Not yet. But yes, we quizzed each other to prepare for oral exams.”
Ada liked that answer much better than what her mind had concocted. Why was she jealous? She had no claim to the young doctor. None. Her heart sank.
“Help yourself. We need to eat this before the sun melts the butter.” He reached for a mille-feuille .
At the same moment, Ada’s hand was on the pastry and her fingers slipped into the gooey vanilla cream between the thin layers of dough.
“What a shame,” Alfred said, but his tone wasn’t sad at all. He lifted her hand and brought it to his mouth. With a flick of his tongue, he licked some of the cream off her fingers and then smacked his lips. He cast her a boyish look that made her stomach flip flop. She should have been shocked but wasn’t. “I just wanted to taste some. It’s yours if you want it.” Flushed with emotion, Ada stared at the pastry, agog, unable to maintain eye contact with the handsome man who had sent a sensual rush through her entire body.
She was adorable beyond words, and he couldn’t explain what had come over him. Never in his wildest dreams would he have predicted that he’d lick vanilla cream off Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s puffer’s fingers, but this girl was a phenomenon. She blushed and lowered her lashes, pulling her hand away slowly and shyly.
But not too shyly. He liked that.
“How is it possible that you speak French like a native yet sound entirely British?” Conversation. Good idea. He had to use the same technique he’d perfected with children: distracting himself as if he were the patient.
“My father hired several tutors for me. He traveled a lot and left me at home with a governess.” She wiped her mouth and licked a mille-feuille flake off the corner of her mouth.
Alfred’s cock twitched in his breeches.
“I suppose the governess didn’t know what to do with me except schedule my lessons.”
“What else did you learn besides French then?”
“English.”
“English is a foreign language to you?”
She nodded.
“Where are you from, Ada?”
“Prussia. Konigsberg.” She said the German umlaut without an accent.
“Do you speak any other languages besides English, French, and German?”
She nodded again but didn’t answer. Her mouth was filled with the last bite of the mille-feuille .
Slightly embarrassed by his powerful physical response to an innocent pastry mishap, Alfred looked away and tried to count the swans on the pond. One, two, three, four… it was no use. His entire body hardened, and he shifted uncomfortably on the woolen blanket. This girl was different, smarter, more refined, and with a stronger personality than anyone he’d ever met. Besides Wendy maybe, but she didn’t count. She was Nick’s little sister.
Could he possibly get away with one last flirtation before Mrs. Dove-Lyon matched him with another woman?
Ada had polished off the mille-feuille and took a big bite from a Paris-Brest , a ring-shaped choux pastry filled with praline cream and topped with caramelized almond slices. She chewed and a sticky crumb of praline stuck on her lower lip.
Alfred was in outright pain now. It made no sense, but his body wanted that little crumb more than the rest of the pastries on display.
“You…” He cleared his throat and gestured to his own mouth, pretending to pick the crumb off his lips. She batted her long lashes at him and leaned in, swallowing the bite. Then, she searched the picnic spread, probably for a napkin.
Ada was so close now that Alfred’s body tingled. Almost within reach, a puff of her breath, an enchanting combination of vanilla and almond, swept into his nose. His hands were heavy but deliberate; he brought his thumb and index finger to her chin and lifted her gaze.
“Right here.” He brushed her lower lip with his thumb and leaned in. Fully expecting her to withdraw but she stilled, became rather serious, and licked her lips with the tip of her tongue. It was agony. His cock grew harder still, impossibly so. Her gaze fell to his mouth.
“Where?” she whispered and held eye contact. Boldly, he thought. Interesting. She was not new to this. Good, because Alfred wasn’t sure he could hold back much longer.
He leaned closer and when she moved into him, he touched the corner of her mouth with his lips. She sighed lightly and tilted her head. He was mesmerized as she eagerly responded with an enthusiasm he hadn’t expected.
In a moment she’d opened up her mouth and Alfred tasted her sweetness. Not the praline or vanilla, no. But something else, something unique. There was an indescribable quality about this girl that felt whole and right.
Her lips were soft and lush, her tongue delicate but forcefully dancing with his. Both tender and passionate, their kiss filled the air with its sweet longing. Her lush lips stirred feral desire deep within him. She scooted closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around her, wanting to take as much as she’d give willingly. He couldn’t help but marvel at how wonderfully she fit against him. Everything around them seemed insignificant, and all that mattered was her.
When he came up for air, her eyes fluttered open, she gave a cautious look. No matter, for his gaze fell to her swollen lips, pink from the rush of their kiss. She didn’t need to speak a word because he saw the sadness in her gaze. She blinked and then inhaled sharply. As if she’d made a decision, she grabbed the back of his head and pulled him back. She took a chance, and he allowed her to lead. Alfred gave himself over to the kiss and pulled her onto his lap. It was scandalous. Onlookers be damned. This was the best kiss of his entire life.