Chapter 12
It had been two days since they’d first made love at her home.
And though they’d moved to his estate at some point, other than that Vaughn had barely come up for air.
It had been a long time since he’d been so tangled with a lover, unable to do anything but want to touch her, but Evie inspired that and he was vastly content to spend hours in her bed or his, exploring her body and every way he could make her twist and moan.
The door to the breakfast room opened and he blinked away the thoughts as he watched the woman, herself, enter. It was far too late for breakfast, of course. Almost noon, because it had taken them two hours to manage to get out of his bed this morning and make their way down.
“Good morning,” he said, grasping the hand she offered to him and kissing her knuckles lightly. “I like your hair that way.”
She reached up to touch the loosely bound locks and blushed very prettily. He did love to make her blush. “Thank you.”
“There’s whatever the poor staff could manage for a spread at this hour.
” He motioned to the sideboard and went back to his paper.
His gaze flitted over the gossip section, blind items about those in Society, and smiled as he recognized one about himself.
Not about the divorce, but about his new mistress.
Good. That was the point of this exercise.
Well, it didn’t feel exactly like the point anymore, but he was simply caught up in the throughs of passion. When that faded, this would be left and it would help.
Evie took a seat beside him and began to pull apart the flaky layers of his cook’s famous vanilla custard croissant. She licked a little of the custard from her thumb and he shook his head.
“We’re not going to make it out of the bed long if you keep doing that,” he said with a laugh.
She met his gaze and licked the same thumb again, this time while making eye contact, but then she smiled. “I am innocently eating my food, my lord. You really must learn a little self-control.”
“Must I?” he asked, and pushed the paper away.
He sipped his tea as she went back to eating.
This all felt so…easy. It had never been easy with Florence.
Their marriage had been arranged, she’d never been comfortable when they were alone, always surrounding them with friends and family.
He realized now in retrospect that it was a way to keep him and whatever feelings he felt for her at arm’s length.
“Oh, your face just went very dark, that won’t do,” Evie said, and covered his hand with hers. “You know, it’s a lovely day and you’re so close to Hyde Park. Why don’t we walk over and we can sit in the glorious sunshine on a blanket together and read from the Cook biography?”
“The one you stole from my bedside table the moment you entered my chamber for the first time?” he teased. “Little thief.”
“You’ve caught me. My entire purpose in this arrangement was to obtain access to your room so I might take the book.” She held up her hands. “You may take me away, lock me up for good.”
There was such a brightness to her as she teased that he felt drawn to her.
It was positively magnetic, unavoidable.
He leaned in, cupped her cheek and said, “It’s not a bad idea, having you all to myself.
” He kissed her before she could respond and tasted the vanilla custard on her tongue.
Just as sweet as she was and he licked his lips as they parted.
“What did you ask me? My mind is suddenly addled by a certain someone.”
“Hyde Park,” she said, her breath short. “Sitting on a blanket. Reading about Cook.”
“Oh. Yes. That would be lovely. Finish your breakfast and we can go straight away since it’s so late.”
She nodded and the rest of the meal was shared in contented silence. He gave over half the paper, she read her bits and he continued with his own. If she saw the blind item about them, she gave no indication. Eventually, she pushed her plate away and smiled. “All ready.”
“Excellent.” He got up and offered her an arm. She took it and together they exited the breakfast room and down the hall. Langley met them in the foyer.
“May I get your carriage, my lord?”
“No, Langley, we’re walking to the park.”
“If it’s not too much trouble, perhaps a blanket to sit on?” Evelina asked. “And we wished to take the biography on his lordship’s bedside table, but I could fetch that.”
“No, miss. I don’t mind getting those things.” Langley left them and was back in what felt like no time at all, a folded blanket and the book in his arms.
He handed them over to Vaughn. “Thank you. I assume we’ll be a few hours, so perhaps tea around four?”
“Of course. Enjoy yourselves.”
Vaughn inclined his head as he led Evie outside and into the rare sparkling sunshine of a late summer’s day. He breathed in the air as he realized he had been locking himself away so often in the last few months that this brief sojourn out felt like freedom.
They took their time as they made their way down the lane toward the big park near the Thames, in no rush to see or be seen, even if that would be the result of this exercise.
“Your butler is very kind,” Evie said at last. “Sometimes the servants don’t approve when a man brings his mistress to his official home.”
He wrinkled his brow. “Don’t they? Well, Langley has been with me for a decade, he’s a good one. I’ve never known him to be rude to anyone in his life.”
“But he must…he must have feelings about the whole situation with Lady Blackburn.”
He tensed. They hadn’t spoken much about Southwater or Florence since they became lovers.
It had been a nice respite, but this reminder brought him back to reality.
“I’m sure he must. I’m not so na?ve as to believe this isn’t being discussed at length belowstairs.
But I seem to have somehow won the loyalty of the servants, if nothing else in this separation. ”
“I think you were owed it,” she said with a small frown. “And I’m glad you have it. At any rate, I appreciate the kindness. It makes my time in your home all the more comfortable.”
“Did Southwater’s servants approve of you?” he asked.
Her slightly pinched expression revealed all. “He…he didn’t allow me into his house here in London. We always met at my—” She cut herself off with a quiet curse. “We met at the house he let me.”
“The one where he now fucks my wife,” Vaughn said softly.
“Yes.” She shrugged. “I did go to his country estate for a week or two each summer while we were together. I liked it there, but I do admit the servants were cold. Their disapproval was evident.”
“And he didn’t speak to them about it?” Vaughn asked. “He didn’t rush to your defense?”
She turned her head as if that question had struck a nerve and he felt her stiffen. She swallowed before she spoke. “He did not.”
“Well, that’s bollocks,” he said with a shake of his head. “If any of my servants are ever rude to you, or my friends or anyone else while we’re in this arrangement, I want you to tell me and I’ll handle it.”
Her lips parted slightly as she stopped on the path and turned toward him. “You—you would do that? Even though this isn’t real?”
He stared into those dark brown eyes, lost himself a moment and then nodded. “I would. But I think we’re past the arrangement not being real, considering I was perched between your thighs this morning, you gripping my hair and calling out for deities I’ve never even heard of.”
Some of the tension left her expression and she laughed as they started into the park together. “You are terrible, Vaughn.”
“I am, I really am. The most secretly wicked earl in all of London, no doubt.”
“Oh, secretly wicked,” she mused. “I like that. That means all that wickedness only belongs to me. I mean, for now. For a while.”
He was about to retort when he caught a glimpse of someone over her shoulder. All thoughts and teasing ceased and the universe became entirely focused onto one person.
It was Florence. She wasn’t with Southwater this time, but with her younger sister, Honora. The two women were standing on the grass together, watching out toward the river, but then Florence looked toward him and for the briefest of moments their eyes met.
“Vaughn.” He blinked at the sound of Evie’s voice saying his name and looked back toward her. She looked at him and then toward Florence and her expression softened with understanding. “This is unexpected, though part of us coming out was to be seen, yes?”
“I suppose it was,” he agreed, wishing his voice didn’t sound so raw. He glanced at his soon-to-be former wife again. She was not looking directly at him anymore, but she occasionally flitted her gaze in his direction.
And that wicked part he’d been teasing about with Evie, the one that he had pushed down and hidden over the years, returned to the surface. He looked at Evelina and smiled. “Miss Comerford, would you like to make a scene?”
* * *
Evelina was doing her level best not to react in any way to Vaughn’s question.
Her reason for coming here hadn’t been this, but to truly spend a little time together that didn’t involve tangled bodies and sweat-slicked sheets.
But now it had turned back to reality and revenge.
A stark reminder that sex was sex, but Vaughn still wanted to use Evelina for his own purposes.
She couldn’t get that confused just because they now included orgasms and laughter in their arrangement.
“I’m never opposed to making a scene, Blackburn,” she said with a forced smile. “Why don’t we put our blanket here where we’ll be sure to be in the correct sightline?”
His face lit up and he winked at her as he spread the blanket on the grass. She sat down, artfully arranging her skirt to fan out around her. Then she beckoned him to join her. He did so, taking a seat beside her.
“Oh no, my lord. If you truly want to make a scene, I think your very handsome head must go in my lap.”
His eyes widened. “Er, here?”