Memoirs of a Mistress by An Anonymous Lady
When Carolyn arrived home after tea with Daniel, she was greeted by Nelson, who informed her that Sarah, Julianne, and Emily, as well as the trio of Lady Walsh, Lady Balsam, and Mrs. Amunsbury had called during her absence. Carolyn nodded absently, her attention caught by the gorgeous display of roses decorating her foyer. Drawing a deep breath, she closed her eyes and absorbed their heady fragrance.
A blush suffused her at the memory of her sensual carriage encounter with Daniel, and she had to press her lips together to contain her secret smile. The Anonymous Lady's retelling of such a liaison in the Memoirs had captivated her, and while the reading of it had been highly stimulating, it couldn't compare to the thrill of the actual experience.
The Memoirs… yes, they'd inspired some very heated thoughts. Thoughts she'd very much like to share even more of with Daniel.
An idea occurred to her, a wicked idea so tempting that after a moment's pondering she realized she couldn't resist. She hurried to the drawing room and retrieved her copy of the Memoirs from her desk. The strong scent of almonds wafted up from the box of marzipan she'd put in the drawer, and she wrinkled her nose even as guilt hit her. The candy was such a thoughtful gift, even though she much preferred the roses.
After removing the bloom she'd pressed between the pages of the Memoirs, she penned a quick note on the back of her calling card, men carefully wrapped the slim volume and card with several sheets of tissue paper that she secured with a piece of satin ribbon.
Daniel had given her a number of gifts. It was time she returned the favor.
She made her way back to the foyer and handed Nelson the package. "I'd like this delivered to Lord Surbrooke as soon as possible."
"Yes, my lady. I'll see to it personally."
"Thank you." She was about to head for her bed-chamber to decide what to wear to Lord and Lady Exbury's soiree that evening when the bell rang, indicating the front gate had been opened.
"'Tis the American gentleman, Mr. Jennsen," Nelson reported after a discreet peek out the slender window flanking the door.
Carolyn didn't ask how Nelson would recognize Mr. Jennsen-her butler seemed to know everyone in town.
"Are you in, my lady?"
Carolyn nodded, curious as to what would bring Mr. Jennsen calling. "Yes. You may show him into the drawing room, then deliver the package to Lord Surbrooke."
She headed down the corridor to the drawing room, where she checked her appearance in the gilt framed mirror. Heavens, she was practically glowing. Thank goodness the weather was good, so she could blame her vivid coloring on the sun, should Mr. Jennsen even notice.
A knock sounded, and at her bid to enter, Nelson opened the door. "Mr. Jennsen to see you, my lady."
The butler stepped back and Mr. Jennsen entered the room. Dressed in buff breeches, a Devonshire brown jacket, and polished black boots, he looked masculine and robust, and the room seemed to somehow shrink due to his commanding presence. His thick, dark hair appeared ruffled, either by his fingers or the wind, lending him a slightly undone air that suited him. She glanced in surprise at the bouquet of vivid pink peonies he held.
"Good afternoon, Lady Wingate," he said.
"Mr. Jennsen, how nice to see you."
"Please call me Logan." He crossed the carpet and extended the bouquet. "For you."
She buried her face in the colorful, fragrant blooms. "They're lovely. Thank you, Logan." She nodded toward the grouping of chairs around the fireplace. "Would you like to sit down?"
"Thank you."
As they settled themselves on the settee, she asked, "Shall I ring for tea?"
"Thank you, Lady Wingate, but I cannot stay long."
"Carolyn, please," she said, placing her flowers on the end table then offering him a smile. "To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"
"I heard about the shooting incident outside your home last evening and was concerned."
"Who told you?"
He made a vague gesture with his hand. "Servants talk. You know how quickly gossip travels."
"Well, then you must have also heard that I wasn't injured."
"Yes." He smiled. "But I wanted to see for myself. Between that and Lady Crawford's murder, I was concerned for your safety. Besides, those flowers desperately wanted to belong to a beautiful woman." He leaned closer and confided, "They told me so."
"Talking flowers? How unusual." A smiled tugged at her lips. "I wonder what they'll tell me about you?"
He shot the flowers a mock glare. "Only good things, I hope."
"I'm certain of it," she said with a laugh. "Well, as you can see, I'm no worse for the wear for my mishap last evening."
"No worse indeed," he agreed, his gaze wandering over her. "In fact you're positively… glowing."
His words raced heat directly into her face. Before she could find her voice, he went on, "I understand Surbrooke was with you last night and he wasn't hurt, either."
Heavens, gossip did indeed travel quickly. "One of his servants fell ill, and my maid and I went to his home to offer assistance."
"I didn't realize your maid was with you. I hope she wasn't injured."
Carolyn felt her blush deepen. "She remained at Lord Surbrooke's home through the night. Lord Surbrooke was kind enough to escort me home."
He nodded slowly. "I see."
His dark eyes studied her intently, as if she were a puzzle he were trying to figure out. She took the opportunity to study him as well. His face was a fascinating landscape of stark panes, softened only by his full, sensual mouth. Although he wasn't classically handsome, he exuded an undeniable masculine appeal and was very attractive. As if his dark good looks weren't enough, the air of mystery that surrounded him-no one knew very much about him or his past in America-coupled with his fabulous wealth, made him the object of great interest amongst the ladies of the ton, despite his undesirable colonial heritage. She had no doubt that many a female heart sped up whenever he entered a room.
Which suddenly begged the question: Why didn't he make her heart speed up? She liked him and had enjoyed his company at Matthew's house party and on the few occasions she'd seen him since returning to London. He was wry, witty, intelligent, attractive… so why didn't he affect her the same way Daniel did? When she fantasized about the erotic writings from the Memoirs, why was the man in her imaginings always Daniel and never Logan?
"Carolyn… I wonder if you could possibly be thinking the same thing I am?"
His question yanked her from her thoughts, and she gave a self-conscious laugh. She was about to assure him that she was certain they weren't thinking the same thing, but the words died in her throat, when he captured her upper arms in his large hands. Drew her close. And settled his mouth on hers.
Her body stiffened with shocked surprise, but after several seconds it became obvious that Logan Jennsen knew how to kiss a woman. Since she suddenly found herself very curious, she allowed herself to relax. And quickly realized that although Logan's technique was exceptional and his kiss perfectly pleasant, it didn't come close to affecting her the way Daniel's did. Indeed, Logan couldn't do to her with a masterful kiss what Daniel was able to do with a mere look.
Oh, dear.
He leaned back, and she opened her eyes and found him regarding her with a half-puzzled, half-surprised expression. His hands slid slowly from her shoulders, then he cleared his throat.
"Do you wish to slap my face?" he asked.
For some reason a bubble of amusement rose in her throat, one for which she was grateful, as it pushed aside her unsettling thoughts. "Do you want me to?"