Chapter 19 #2
He sighed. “For now. She wants me to find her a husband. The sooner I do that, the sooner you and I can be alone. I suppose if nothing else, that’s one point in favor of me doing as she asks.”
Hannah tilted her head curiously. “You don’t want to find her a husband?”
He grimaced. “She asked me in a very unsettling way,” he said, for lack of a better explanation. “And my pool of options is limited to gamblers and ne’er-do-wells, isn’t it?”
“I’d be happy to lend you Nelson Goldfarb,” she offered with a little smirk. “He shan’t be marrying me, after all.”
“No,” he agreed, pulling her back down and claiming her mouth for a languid, indulgent kiss. “He shan’t.”
He sighed, releasing her with no little reluctance. Normally, he would not share anything said to him by his sister to another soul, but Hannah was to be his wife. His wife! And he really could use counsel on this matter.
“She wants to be wealthy and respected,” he said after a moment, making sure he’d weighed the words before he said them, “but most of all she wants a husband who will not pester her for affection or deference. It is a tall order, don’t you think?”
Hannah blinked. “For a woman as beautiful as your sister? It might be an impossible order.”
He grunted and nodded. “Unless I find a man with no interest in women, I suppose, but it is not as though wealthy powerful men with such perversions openly advertise such things.”
“Well, no,” she said, leaning back and bracing herself against the desk. “But the brothels might know, and you are in their good graces.”
He stared at her, uncertain if he was impressed or horrified by this very striking suggestion. “Hannah,” he said softly. “You are terrifying.”
“Thank you, love,” she replied with a little smile. “But of course, if you go that route, you’ll have to wait until Spring, when all the eligible sorts are back in London and up to their vices. Not many are here right now, other than that sad gentleman who’s always in the main hall with Ember.”
Beck barked a little bite of laughter. “Aster? He does seem a bit sad, doesn’t he? But somehow smugly so.”
Hannah nodded, squinting as she considered it. “A paradox.”
Beck frowned. He wasn’t truly considering it. Not actually. But it might be worth chatting with the fool a little more, perhaps. Just to be sure.
“So,” said Hannah, squeezing her thighs around him in a way that made him gasp and shoot her a little rebuking glare. “When can I start telling people that we are engaged?”
“Once I’ve gotten your parents’ blessing, I suppose?” he said, not quite sure if this custom was the same everywhere. “Unless you think otherwise.”
She sighed. “Do you want to come tomorrow, then? I know it is Christmas Eve, but for us, it is only another day.”
“Is it?” he said, startled. “Time has really gotten away from me lately. Why don’t you ensure it is actually a good time to sit down with them, and then I will make myself available. And why don’t you give me that ring you’re wearing so I can have one made that’s the right size?”
Hannah batted her lashes, lifting up her hand and wiggling the ring off. “This ring?” she asked, holding it up to the light, then she flicked it off her fingertips and onto the floor. “Oops!”
He sighed, watching her scramble down to the ground and crawl around, making a big, squeaking show of looking for it, wiggling her hips as she went.
“Hannah …” he warned, unable to tear his eyes away.
“Oh, goodness, I am just so clumsy,” she tutted, unable to fully hide her own giggles.
He moved quickly and quietly, fast enough that when she gasped at being turned and pinned to the carpet, it was genuine surprise and not more of her flirtatious act.
He grinned down at her, holding her wrists above her head with one hand, and plucked the ring from the floorboards slightly to the left of her hair with the other as he bore his hips down into hers, making her draw a sharp little breath into her lungs.
“Here it is,” he whispered, and tucked it neatly in his waistcoat pocket. “You should be more careful.”
Her breath was shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she squirmed sweetly under him. “Are you going to kiss me now, St. Thaddeus?” she teased. “To punish me for my clumsiness?”
He leaned down, close enough that their noses were brushing, his thumbs sweeping against the pulse points of her captive wrists. “Hannah, if I kiss you again, we are going to end up naked on this floor.”
“Are we?” she breathed. “You locked the door.”
He groaned, giving her one more roll of his hips before he backed away, lifting himself onto his knees with a long, cool inhale and a shake of his head. He laughed because if he didn’t, he might actually cry.
“You are going to be the death of me,” he said to her, glancing over as she pulled herself up to sitting, her hair askew and cheeks flushed like a nymph.
“There are a bunch of people right outside, or believe me, you would be getting intimately familiar with the shape of those floorboards right now.”
“Fine,” she said with a petulant little sniff. “I still have your jacket at home.”
He closed his eyes, heaved a great sigh, and grabbed her quickly, pressing a hard, hot kiss into her mouth, his tongue curling in without a single request for entry as his hands slid down over her body.
He filled his hands with her breasts, with the curve of her waist, with that pert little backside she insisted on wiggling at him, and he squeezed, grunting into the taste of her with the frustration and the perfection of it.
Then, somehow, he set her back where she was and heaved himself to his feet, a little dizzy with the effort.
A bunch of tiny blue spots were dancing in his vision, beyond the frames of his spectacles.
After he’d stared at the wall for long enough to trust himself to walk again, he turned around and gave her a polite bow, a little smirk, and a promise to visit tomorrow, should it be the right time.
He was deliberate, stepping forward and pressing a chivalrous kiss to her knuckles while she frowned at him for not throwing her onto the desk and doing every depraved thing they both wanted.
“Soon,” he said softly, which did seem to mollify her a bit, and then he returned to the gaming floor.
As he passed the others on the way out, he noticed Ember tilted back in the gaming chair, counting several of Aster’s debt slips with a satisfied look on her face.
“You can’t keep those,” Beck said to her, half-heartedly.
“Who’s going to stop me?” she shot back with a lift of her brows.
Meanwhile, Aster himself was standing over the chaise, frowning, with his hands on his hips. “I say,” he muttered, glancing over at them. “I could have sworn this used to be more of a goldenrod color last time I saw it.”
Beck left quickly after that.