Amanda did not feign misunderstanding. "No, it was my fault, tossing myself at you that way. I was upset. I apologize."
"Your discomposure was natural. I, ah, wished to comfort you."
"I know. Thank you."
He did not feel absolved. "You should have stopped me."
She gathered the jewels back into the silk pouch. "I did not want to."
Her words, in the blue of truth, set his blood to boiling again. He leaned away, to put distance between them.
Amanda stared at her hands in her lap, to keep from reaching for him. "I was forward."
He took her hand. "Never think that. I was a brute. You are a lovely woman and I am only human."
"Thank you. I am human too, and you are a lovely man."
He laughed, but raised her hand to his lips. "What, with scars and a limp and a battered nose?"
"With a good heart and the most beautiful eyes in all of England."
He leaned over and stroked her eyelids. "No, yours are much finer. Like soft brown velvet a man could sink into."
She smiled back at him, relishing the gentle touch. "Mine are common brown eyes. And they are red and swollen, I'd wager."
He lowered his gaze. "No, but your lips are."
Now she blushed. "You really must think me a wanton. I swear I do not kiss every gentleman I meet!"
He stood, thinking of her tender, inexperienced kisses. "I think you are brave and good, and I think I had better take myself off before I forget that I am a gentleman and you are an innocent."
She rose also, but took his hand. "But Nanny and her sister are cooking dinner for you and Daniel. You have to stay."
The invitation to stay was too tempting by half, but he was staring at her lips again, thinking of their taste, not of the cock-a-leekie soup.
As if his eyes drew her closer, Amanda took a step nearer him, so her breasts almost touched his coat. Almost was not good enough. This must be the animal magnetism she had heard about. She took another step, and his arms came around her.
This time the kiss involved tongues and teeth and lips and sharing breaths and sighs. Her hands moved to his back. His moved to her front, to the sides of her breasts, making her gasp with surprise, then groan with pleasure. Yes, she thought, this was far better than being patted on the head and told to go off to wash, good girl, Amanda.
She was a woman, and he was a man. She could feel his virility through her skirts and his trousers. She was doing that to him. She felt the answering warmth between her thighs, in the pit of her stomach, down to her toes. The heat was nothing to the fires of hell she would burn in for all eternity, and at that moment Amanda did not care.
"More tea, my lord? More-Oh, my!"
They had not heard Dodd come into the room at all. Rex shielded Amanda from the butler's prying eyes, without taking his arms from around her and said, "Miss Carville is upset. The last few days have taken their toll."
"Funny, that's exactly what I said that day you walked in here, all in a huff. My Nell was overset, she was."
Rex pointed toward the door. "Tea, Dodd. And brandy."
Amanda's knees were so weak she would collapse into a puddle if Rex did not hold her, so she clung to him.
His self-discipline was so weak he folded his arms around her. His bad leg could not support them both so they fell forward to the sofa, which was far more comfortable anyway.
"Still overset, is she?" Dodd set the tray down with a clatter.
"Out!"
Dodd paused at the door. "Um, you were not going to mention my Nell to the countess, were you, my lord?" He waggled his eyebrows at what he could see of Miss Carville, half-behind and half-beneath the viscount.
"That's blackmail!"
"That's a narrow sofa."
Amanda giggled, a sound so enchanting that Rex simply had to kiss her again, even knowing Dodd had left the parlor door open behind him.
"He never liked me," she said a few heartbeats-heavy, pounding, rapid heartbeats-later. "Heaven knows what he'll think of me now."
"He will show you the proper respect. He likes his position." So did Rex, with almost all of him touching almost all of Amanda. Lud, what was happening to him? Rex asked himself with the last vestiges of intelligence left to him. All of his self-preservation, all of his precepts, were flown out the window, along with his wits. But his blood, ah, that was rushing from his neck to his nethers, where he was alert and attentive. His body knew she was his, his for the taking, his for the pleasuring. His to wed?
Hell, no! He jumped to his feet, pulling her with him. "This is wrong! I am not a stag in rut, a randy goat. And the door is open. I mean, I do have principles. I have-"
"I have it, a whole bucket full of raspberry ice!" Daniel and Verity raced into the room. "Hurry, you two, before there's nothing left but a puddle of juice. I saw Nanny and she swears we will spoil our suppers, but who cares? Didn't she always say the same, and didn't I always clear my whole plate? I say, Amanda's not still weeping, is she?"
She was giggling again. They both said no.
"Then why are you still holding her?"
Now that was a damned good question.
Chapter Nineteen
Nanny clucked her tongue. She knew Amanda's blond curls weren't all every which way when she'd combed them. And she knew she did not apply any of the countess's face paint to get the young lady's cheeks so rosy or her lips so red. "Lady Royce sent a message that she was on her way," she told Rex as he was leaving. "And not a moment too soon, I'd warrant," she muttered under her breath, making him feel six years old again.
Heaven knew that what he'd done-worse, what he'd almost done-was more than a boyish prank. The problem was, he could not trust his unruly body not to do it again. The only solution was to keep his distance, so he dragged Daniel out to the Grand Hotel.
"I hear they set an excellent table," he told his cousin.
"But I had my heart set on a rare roast!"
Well, Rex had his heart set on a bare breast, and he was not going to get his wish, either. "You were the one who said we had to be seen out and about, on the town, to preserve Miss Carville's reputation. Besides, Lady Royce should be here soon, perhaps as early as tomorrow, so I can move to a hotel. I thought I'd look over the Grand and see if they will take dogs. It's not as particular as the Clarendon or the Pulteney, I hear. You are welcome to stay with me, unless you prefer that rat's nest you were living in."
"What? Move away from Royce House just when your mother is bringing her cook back with her? That's as cork-brained as the idea they'd take Verity at any decent place. She isn't a dog, she's a four-legged feed bag."
"Then I shall find rooms somewhere until I can return to the country."
"We could always stay with your mother. It'd be all right and tight, with a countess chaperoning the lass."
"No" was all Rex said.
"That bad, eh?"
Rex did not know if Daniel meant living under the same roof as Lady Royce, or keeping his hands off Amanda. "That bad."
They stopped at McCann's Club first. A hunched-over old man in the club's livery and white wig stepped out of the shadows, keeping his eyes deferentially lowered. "A message for Lord Rexford," he said, handing over a sealed note. He bowed and backed away.
"Wait! Tell your master-"
The man was gone, too fast for such a relic. While Daniel went to see who was in the card room-and have a free glass of wine-Rex broke the seal on the letter and unfolded the single sheet. On it were written the same eight initials he had given Major Harrison, the ones from Sir Frederick's journal. Beside each were one to three names, with question marks beside some, addresses under others.
L.B. could be the banker, Lloyd Breverton, the note indicated, but it could also stand for Lydia Burton, the infamous madam of a high-class bordello.