Chapter Twenty-Five
Lisbeth tried to ignore the heightened chatter as she stepped into the Duke of Sinclair’s theater box with Thomas.
It appeared as if the entire place was watching them.
Thomas held his hand out to help her step down into the space.
He grinned at her, and her heart fluttered.
Based on the gasps around her, she suspected it wasn’t only her heart.
They’d agreed to attend the theater tonight to help show society that whatever happened at the beginning of their marriage was over. Lisbeth assumed everyone believed her husband was out having a bit of fun to celebrate his status as a famous explorer. The truth was so different.
It amused her in some ways that Thomas seemed so perplexed by his popularity, but it also made her nervous.
A young lady in the box next to theirs coyly batted her eyes at him.
Instinctively, she looped her arm through his.
He glanced down at where they were touching and smiled.
The swirl of attraction between them seemed to be intensifying with every day that went by.
“How are you enjoying London, Easton?” Sinclair asked him.
Thomas laughed. “It is not the city I left.”
No, he was right about that. So much innovation had occurred. Buildings were being built taller and faster, trains were more common than taking a stagecoach, and London’s population had doubled.
“Will you stay in the country?” Sinclair asked him.
They’d not talked about traveling, and she wasn’t sure that was possible. Worry filled her, but Thomas seemed to understand. He said, “I think we will be firmly settled in London. Perhaps down the road we will travel somewhere, but for now, making the city my home is my focus.”
Warmth filled her that Thomas seemed perfectly fine with staying in London.
“Will you stay in England?” Lisbeth asked Rose.
Sinclair and her friend looked at each other. Rose said, “We aren’t sure. I’d like to visit when Esme is in Syria, but I will see how things are after our official wedding.”
Easton grinned. “Your first wedding was the best.”
Sinclair nodded. “Agreed.”
Rose laughed. “Still, Augustus’s mother is so excited about the exchange of proper vows.”
Bells began to chime, signaling the beginning of the opera.
Lisbeth and Thomas settled into seats in the front row of the box.
The curtain opened, and she became enthralled with the story.
It was about a boy and a girl who grew up together, but then the girl marries another.
The man goes mad. Lisbeth leaned towards him.
“This reminds me of the Majnun and Layla. I suppose that story plot is in every culture.”
“Agree,” he said, before grasping one of her hands and threading their fingers together. “Maybe it will end happily.”
He brought her hand to his lips, and Lisbeth swore she could hear all the women in the theater sigh. She whispered, “I think people are more interested in watching us than the show.”
Thomas smiled. “I don’t care as long as I’m with you.”
“Still, it would be nice to have a day or night out without so much attention.”
He leaned closer, his mouth brushing her ear. “Are you saying you want to be alone with me?”
Her heart started to beat faster. She did want that. “Yes. A day for just us would be lovely.”
Thomas turned to stare at her face, studying her intently. The underlying desire that always existed between them raged. Eventually, he said, “Consider it done. I have some ideas.”
A few hours later, they sat in the carriage.
Lisbeth was exhausted and looking forward to sleep.
Thomas had pulled her over onto his lap when the carriage started moving.
They’d fallen into this pattern over the last couple of days—gentle kissing and caressing.
She felt his shaft push against her bottom, and her core clenched.
Her need for him, which she was doing her best to keep subdued, threatened to bubble over. His hand grasped her hip, and he pushed against her bottom. Again, it was only gentle kisses and touches. Lisbeth looked down into his eyes and she said, “Thomas, will you really kiss me?”
His brows drew together in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Without restraint.”
He groaned and pulled her head down, pressing his lips to hers. She gasped but kissed him back with just as much yearning. Their tongues sparred and pressed against one another. His hand slid up and grasped one of her breasts. She whimpered. “Thomas, please.”
He started to slide her skirt up, but then just as suddenly, he deposited her back on the bench on the other side.
Frustration coursed through her. She ached for him. “What are you doing?”
“We’ve not been intimate since we decided to try again. Our first time won’t be in this carriage.”
She rolled her eyes, squeezing her legs together, desire still throbbing through her. “This isn’t our first time.”
He shook his head. “Our next intimate moment won’t be in this carriage or tonight.”
Lisbeth frowned at him, but Thomas turned serious. “I forced you to marry me. I want our next time not to be rushed and special.”
Her ache for him still pulsated through her, but she nodded. He winked at Lisbeth, making her heart flutter, and the throbbing in her body intensified. She sighed. “Fine, but don’t make me wait too long.”
Thomas grinned at her wickedly. “I won’t.”
*
Thomas sat in one of the private rooms of the Den.
He leaned his head against the back of the wingback chair.
He couldn’t believe he’d refused the opportunity to bury himself inside Lisbeth last night.
When they were in the carriage, he’d wanted her desperately.
Hell, he always wanted her, but they’d been through so much.
Thomas was a fool, but the next time he was able to touch Lisbeth, he didn’t want to be rushed.
He wanted them to get lost in each other’s bodies and not worry about anything else.
It was such an odd thought, but now that he had Lisbeth, he didn’t want any part of their rediscovery of each other to fly by. He wanted to revel in it.
“I hope your return to my club doesn’t mean that there are issues with your wife,” Devons said, carrying two full glasses of brandy.
Thomas nodded his thanks, taking one. “No, it is nothing like that. I have a request.”
Devons frowned and lifted a brow. Thomas pulled a stack of letters from inside his coat. “I need to hire an investigator to track the authors of these down.”
Devons looked at the floral envelopes before sneezing from the overwhelming smell of perfume. “Why?”
Thomas pulled the top three from the top. “Read these.”
One was the one addressed to Lisbeth, the other he received from his mother, and a strange one he received in Syria.
The club owner asked, “Do you know who C is?”
He shook his head. “I never worried about it because I didn’t plan on moving to London. I’m hoping that it is some young lady with a crush, but the letter Lisbeth received has me alarmed.”
“I would be concerned as well. I have a regular investigator. May I keep these messages? Hopefully, he will be able to find out who it is.”
Relief coursed through Thomas. Once he had a name associated with the letters, he’d feel much better. “Thank you, Devons.”
“Not a problem. How is everything else going?”
He smiled. “I think Lisbeth and I are going to be okay.”
“Good.”
Yes, he was still struggling with some of his feelings internally, but no matter what, he wanted a life with Lisbeth, Alice, and Jeremy. “Mr. Martin and Lord Harston visited me today. They asked if I would become a permanent lecturer for the London Society of Antiquaries.”
Devons choked on his drink. “The ladies would be furious.”
He grinned. “I think Lisbeth and I came up with an idea for me to lecture at Seely House. I would like to do something for adults, but also for children.”
His friend chuckled. “It certainly sounds like you are becoming settled.”
Thomas stated, “I’d hoped to see Lord Hawley soon. We’ve communicated through mail for years, but he doesn’t seem to be around.”
He nodded. “Yes, he’s out of the country. That man is always up to something.”
Thomas smiled. “My friend Rafe likes to call him the man of mystery because he always seems to be in the mix of things.”
Devons laughed. “I would have never suspected that until recently.
“Perhaps the man is different abroad than at home.”
The club owner held up his drink. “A toast to your new life here in London.”
Thomas felt optimistic. Everything seemed to be moving in the right direction. Happiness filled him.