Chapter Thirty
Davenport paced the foyer as if he were a caged tiger searching for an escape. Finally, he halted and glared up the stairwell. “What in the devil is taking them so long?” he asked, an uncharacteristic annoyance lacing his tone.
“We are not that far behind schedule,” Nicolas said. “Fifteen minutes at the most.”
Davenport huffed.
Intending to prove his point, Nicolas reached for his timepiece but instead grabbed a handful of air.
“They should be down any moment.” Mrs. Love patted her eyes with a wadded-up handkerchief. “They both look so lovely. Lady Davenport looks as fresh as a blooming lilac, and Miss Josephine…” She blew her nose. “I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful.”
The maids murmured their agreement.
Diana approached Davenport. “May I speak frankly, my lord?” she asked.
Staff asking to speak honestly rarely meant good news. Had Josie decided she couldn’t do this? The past few days, she’d seemed so sure of herself, but this was a nerve-twisting undertaking. Nicolas wouldn’t blame her if she had second thoughts.
“I believe Miss Josephine is a bit nervous,” Diana told Davenport.
As Nicolas suspected, his concern was valid. If only he could dash up the stairs to comfort her.
Davenport’s brow furrowed. “Nervous? No.” He shook his head. “She is the least nervous chit I know. As brave as a soldier, that girl, with the exterior of a turtle. Chain mail even.”
But beneath that hard exterior Josie showed the world, she was vulnerable and sensitive. Soft and loving. Sweet and warm. Not that Nicolas would share her coveted secrets with the world.
“I doubt this is Josephine’s fault,” Davenport said. “My mother is probably giving last-minute lessons. The dashed woman never stops with the lecturing. Diana, please go upstairs and tell my mother I’m ready.”
Since when did Davenport care about arriving at a ball on time? Unless he had a rendezvous with some woman planned.
Bloody hell! As if they didn’t have enough to worry about, Davenport was behaving like an impatient bull because of some carnal liaison. Nicolas rubbed at the sour ball climbing up his esophagus.
“Yes, my lord.” Diana bobbed. She headed to the stairwell, peered up, and stepped to the side. “They are coming, sir.”
First, Nicolas saw four slippers. Next, the hem of two gowns. And then his breath caught in his lungs.
Everything about Josie that didn’t glitter or sparkle glowed.
Too beautiful to be real, she was a diaphanous emerald dream that might disappear if he blinked or moved quickly.
The low neckline of her gown exposed creamy skin and showcased her well-formed bosom.
Her pink cheeks, sparkling eyes, silky hair, and toned arms screamed health and vitality.
She was a mermaid caught in a moonbeam. A fairytale queen from a magical land. A goddess come to life.
His gaze caught hers. He couldn’t be certain, but her breath might have hitched. Hopefully, he cut such a fine figure in his blue cravat and best waistcoat that he’d knocked the wind from her lungs.
Nicolas stepped forward and smiled.
She smiled back.
“You look beautiful, Josephine,” Davenport said.
What a banal way to describe her. By God, she was radiant. Ravishing. Dazzling. Heavenly.
“Mother, you look comely.” Walking stick in one hand, Davenport came around beside his mother and cradled her elbow.
Nicolas shook himself from his rude stupor. “Agatha, that shade of purple suits you.”
“And the two of you look exceedingly handsome,” Lady Davenport said. “Shall we be on our way?”
Nicolas clasped Josephine’s elbow, and together, they followed their hosts.
“Have a delightful time.” Mrs. Love waved her handkerchief in the air as the staff echoed her sentiment.
Seeming oblivious to the heated glares Josie and Nicolas sent each other, the Davenports chatted away.
Josie nodded, murmuring “Yes” and “Oh, my” to whatever discussion was happening in the carriage.
Nicolas doubted Josie knew what she agreed to.
Not with the hunger in her eyes scorching him to his soul.
Meanwhile, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to spin around the dance floor with her in his arms, steal a carriage and run away with her, or haul her off to some corner and tup her until neither of them could move.
Perhaps he would do all three. Now, to decide in what order.
Inwardly, he preened. He did not begrudge selling his watch. Josie’s gown was a work of art worthy of the Musée du Louvre.
Their vehicle halted, and the door opened.
Piles of giggling pink and yellow satin piled into the carriage.
When everyone jostled positions to make room for Bridget and Isabelle, Nicolas ended up with his hip pressed against Josie’s.
Her scent accosted his senses, carrying him to a flower garden on a breezy summer day.
He tried to concentrate on the lively conversation, to no avail. He was too aware of every breath Josie took. As close as they were, he needed to be closer. He pressed his thigh against hers.
Her breath hitched as she met his pressure. Even amongst the excited partygoers, Nicolas knew Josie’s breathing shallowed. Instinctually, his lungs matched hers as they breathed together as one. Her slippered foot tapped his toe. Heat shot from his foot to his pelvis.
Josie might resemble an elegant princess, but he knew her well enough to know that her honeyed cavern was drenched and pulsing for him.
His cock twitched so damn hard that he almost moaned.
You could dress a man up, but you could not hide his inner scoundrel.
Thankfully, the carriage was so lively that, more than likely, no one took notice of the pandemonium in his trousers.
Bridget leaned across the seat and tapped him on his knee. “Brother?”
He cleared his throat. “What?”
“Are you excited for the evening?” She winked as if they were sharing some secret.
Why, oh why, had she walked in on him and Josie? She’d embarrass him every chance she got.
“For someone who despises society events, you seem quite excited,” he said.
“Now that Isabelle and I are friends with Lady Siddons and Lady Davenport, we are quite excited. Aren’t we, Isabelle?”
“Exceedingly so,” Isabelle said. “I do believe this shall be the perfect event to recruit members for our female-only club.”
“Try not to start any fisticuffs or scandals.” Nicolas had enough to worry about tonight without Bridget and Isabelle’s machinations.
And the dashed viscount would be no help since he’d be in some dark corner up some women’s skirts.
Of course, Nicolas would do anything to be in a private alcove exploring Josie’s curves.
“Humph.” Bridget feigned indignance by sticking her pert little nose in the air.
“We are here,” Davenport announced.
Josie grabbed Nicolas’s hand. “I love you,” she whispered.
He couldn’t help himself. With his free hand, he cradled her chin and stared into her eyes. “I love you, too, Josephine Martin.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers while their audience clapped.
So much for keeping their relationship a secret. However, it was becoming apparent that everyone in that carriage already knew they’d fallen madly and deeply in love.