Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
The carriage ride back to York included no more messed trousers, but there were times where Harry might have tempted fate. Agnes seemed lighter after talking to Oscar, and it made her more free with her kisses.
Harry could hardly believe his luck. The first, and hopefully only, woman he had set his cap for seemed just as smitten with him as he was with her. He had noticed other beautiful women before, had met plenty of women with shining personalities, but he’d never had the confidence to pursue them.
Really, he hadn’t wanted to. But with Agnes, it didn’t even feel like a choice. She drew him in, and now that she had revealed all of herself to him, he could never look away.
Although their private courtship had just begun, he was suspecting that it would be easy to love this woman.
Everyone around her loved her deeply. He saw it in the way Nora and Louisa came to his office in her defense, the relief Oscar showed to see her again, and Richard’s devotion to her.
She had mentioned Edith several times too—not her mother, but someone significant in her upbringing.
Yet she had not mentioned a mother or father. When he asked about the absence of passion in her past, darkness had flashed across her face. What would stop someone from wanting to find love? What history did she have?
Agnes placed peace and comfort above everything else.
She wanted a quaint life. A woman driven by routine, every fond memory she shared of Richard had included predictability.
Even in her fierce determination to help her neighbors, there was a rhythm to it.
She worked in solitude, in complete control of her space.
He wondered if she would make space for him.
When they arrived at her home in York, he gently shook her awake. “Agnes, dear, we are back. I will see you inside.”
“Stay,” she murmured, snuggling into his shoulder, eyes closed.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I think that would make our courtship rather public, at least to your staff.”
She stretched up, rubbing her eyes and blinking slowly.
Every drop of his blood ran hot watching her study his face with her sleepy expression.
The footman opened the carriage door, helping her out, and Harry climbed down after her.
He linked her arm into his and walked her into her home.
By the time they were in the foyer, she was fully awake.
Her eyes were no longer sleepy, but mischievous.
“Harry,” she said, pulling him to her. “My staff can keep secrets,” she whispered.
She slid her arms up around his neck, but the moment was ruined by the sound of footsteps approaching from the hallway. The last thing he needed was a tongue-lashing from Ward over his untoward behavior toward the mistress of the house. He pulled away.
The housekeeper entered, and Agnes addressed her immediately. “Mrs. Smith. Please have the guest chambers tidied quickly. Mr. Evans will spend the night.”
“Yes, my lady.” The woman kept a straight face as she turned around and hurried up the stairs.
Agnes held Harry’s hand. “It’s too late to take a train back to London. Besides, tomorrow morning, we should discuss how we will confront Charles about the will. I also want to have another look in Richard’s study. Maybe there’s something we are missing.”
“What if your neighbors saw me come inside and notice I haven’t left?”
“It’s dark, it’s late. No one is looking, Harry.” She pulled him to her, placing a quick but seductive kiss on his lips. Harry wanted to believe that, but he knew better. The biggest gossips were aware that the best seeds of information are planted at night.
Regardless, she was convincing. There was much to discuss, and he could help her look for more evidence.
Harry wanted to put all of this behind them as soon as possible. If things were settled, then she could focus on their courtship. Besides, it was getting late. It was better for him to finish their discussions before he left in the morning.
“All right. But only because of the hour. Let’s hope no one saw, or we will have failed miserably at keeping this private on the very first day.”
“The only ones awake right now are the ghosts, Harry, and they never sleep.”
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Surely, she must be teasing him.
She grabbed the lapels of his jacket. “Good night, Harry.” He leaned forward and she leaned in as well.
He had planned a chaste goodnight kiss, but Agnes had her own plans.
She immediately deepened it, licking his lips until he let her in.
For a woman who had been fine to live in a passionless marriage, she certainly was intoxicating.
Heat crept up his thighs. The blood rushed through his body, and he pulled her to his hardened length that strained against his trousers. Before he could register all of the sensations, she pulled back. The loss of her lips felt like a punch to his gut.
“I’m retiring to my room. Mrs. Smith will show you to yours when it is ready.” She walked away with an exaggerated swing of her hips. What had gotten into her? He had not expected Agnes to be the seducer, but he liked it.
Agnes stood outside the guest chambers, waiting for her nerves to force her retreat. But they didn’t come. She wondered if fear would sneak in, but that didn’t come either. Sometime during her marriage to Richard, she had healed.
The safety she had felt with Edith and Richard had given her time to truly leave her past behind her.
She was a woman now and all she wanted was to take command of her body and find pleasure with Harry.
Maybe she had been ready to do this for some time, but was just waiting for the right man.
And he was here, in her guest chamber, in the middle of the night.
She knocked softly. No response. Just as she was about to knock again, a shadow moved under the door.
“Harry,” she whispered. The door opened slowly. Harry’s eyes were wide, showing so much white they almost glowed despite the darkness of the hour. She thought she had been clear that her earlier goodnight was only temporary. Obviously, he had missed the message.
“What are you doing?” he asked. The fire in the hearth turned his hair to a copper brown and invoked a warm glow across his skin.
If she managed to keep this home, she vowed to keep him too.
She wanted to curl up in his lap on the drawing room settee, lay him down in her gardens, and she most definitely wanted him in her bed.
“May I enter?”
He stepped aside, shutting the door with extreme care and slowly releasing the handle so the latch clicked softly. He was still wary about her staff learning what they were up to, although Agnes recognized that any semblance of propriety was long gone. This was downright scandalous.
“Why are you here? Did anyone see you? Are you all right?” He studied her face, looking for signs of distress.
“Harry, the servants are asleep. But we can trust them. Just close your curtains.” She walked along the side of the room so that a second shadow would not be seen from the street. She pulled the curtains closed.
The sounds of Harry’s breathing became raspy and quick. The trembling that had been so pronounced during their first few meetings returned, but it didn’t seem to be nerves. It was something more virile. He was fighting for control.
He had stripped almost bare in preparation for sleep, with only his shirt and trousers remaining.
The shirt hung down to the middle of his thighs, untucked with the top few buttons undone.
The exposed V of his chest showed a dusting of dark curls.
The cowlick over his ear was the first sign that Harold Evans had less control than he wanted to believe, but below his shirt, his hair was just as unruly.
“I don’t want to take advantage of you, Agnes. Just because you are a widow, it doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t court you properly. I will not abuse your hospitality in allowing me to spend the night. I admit the kisses I’ve stolen have been nice, but there is no pressure to move so quickly.”
Agnes quirked her eyebrow. “The kisses you’ve stolen? What about the ones I’ve taken for myself?” But then she hesitated. “Am I moving too fast for you? I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking about what I want, I didn’t stop to consider your desires. I’ve been told that all men want this.”
“I do!” He clamped his hand over his mouth. He looked around the room like a mouse afraid he woke the cat. “I do,” he repeated, this time in a whisper.
She moved closer to him.
“If I’m to grieve the loss of my husband, remove all colors from my wardrobe, and withdraw myself from society, then I want the freedoms widowhood allows me too.
I’m a merry widow, Harry, and I want you.
You make me feel safe, but you also make my body want in ways I haven’t felt before.
I need to explore this. I am aching to explore this. ”
Harry’s jaw slackened as if it had become unhinged. He took one step toward her, tentatively, then another.
The anticipation of his touch on her skin was consuming.
When he finally reached her, he wrapped his hand into her hair, cupping the back of her head.
She prepared her lips for a kiss, but instead he rested his forehead against hers.
Moments passed between them, and they stood connected, ablaze, but frozen in place.
Eventually, he lifted his head to fit his lips to hers.
His passionate kisses grew deeper and deeper until he nibbled on her lips.
Agnes looked up to see his eyes were closed and admired the lines of his dark eyelashes resting on the top of his cheeks.
She pulled her mouth from his and kissed each eyelid.
Harry gripped her hair more firmly, sending a charge down Agnes’s neck. “I need to see you. Fuck, I must see you now.”
Agnes gasped at the harsh language from such a mild-mannered man. She had the power to make him come completely undone, and that thrilled her.