Mary sprung up at the knocks on her door, brushing her hair from her face and then clutching her pillow for scant reassurance. “I’m awake.”
Her mother hurried in, wearing her nightgown and lacy cap still perched on her head. “Oh good. You must get up. There is a caller.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Worth has come.”
“Worth always comes on Tuesdays,” she said in what she hoped was a disinterested tone, although a dull roar had filled her ears at the mention of his name. Fear and excitement affected her. Usually, she felt resignation whenever he came to call.
One night, and so much had changed between them.
“He’s much too early.” Mama hurried to Mary’s wardrobe and selected a modest lemon gown. “Tolling warned that Mr. Worth appeared quite formal. He did not smile even once, and that is so unlike him. Douglas appears out, too, though your brother never mentioned an early appointment to anyone. It is rude since he must have known Worth would call as he always does on Tuesdays. You must go down in his place. I beg of you to entertain Mr. Worth before he takes himself off in a dreadful huff.”
Mary slipped from the bed, heart pounding in dread. Had he come to reveal her wickedness and disobedience to her family? She had to prevent that by any means. She’d be sent to live with her grandmamma in disgrace for what she’d done last night if he had. If that happened, she’d never marry, she’d never be kissed so fiercely and be made weak by Ellis’s expert passions yet again.
She blinked to clear that wicked remembrance from her mind. She should not wish for another interlude like last night. But oh how his strong hands had grasped her desperately before their identities had changed everything. He’d made her feel utterly desirable. And yet…
Mary shook her head. Ellis was not here for her, nor would he ever attempt to kiss her. She should not allow the rake any further liberties, even if she wanted them. He was merely here to see Douglass, as he always did on Tuesday mornings, and she would endure this visit the way she had borne all the others.
“I will see him,” she promised. “And explain.”
She hurried through her toilette, choosing a prettier gown than her mother had laid out, and rushed downstairs, her nerves jumping chaotically. What would he say to her? How should she greet him? Like sworn enemies, though perhaps a little less hostility would be a good start if she wanted to ensure he said nothing about last night.
Mary swept into the drawing room and stopped short when she saw him.
Ellis Worth took her breath away.
Too elegantly dressed to be meeting Douglass for a trip to Tattersall’s, too handsome for words indeed. It took her a full minute to get over the shock of seeing him dressed because she remembered so much of last night, when he was anything but proper to look at. The heat of his skin, the heaviness of his body pressing hers into the mattress, the skill of his lips and hands as they moved over her own.
She belatedly remembered her manners and fumbled a poor curtsy, blushing furiously under his scrutiny. “Sir?”
His eyes glowed with something warm and wicked stirring in their depths when she met his gaze. “Miss Vine, good morning.”
Mary rushed across the room and, in her haste, stumbled into a chair instead of settling elegantly. She straightened herself out in a wink and offered Ellis Worth a tentative smile that she hoped did not reveal how truly nervous she was to see him. “I’m afraid you’ve caught the family unprepared this morning. Douglas has already gone out.”
“Or hasn’t returned yet,” he murmured under his breath. “Mornings are not his favorite time of day.”
She frowned at Ellis. “And knowing this, you came so early?”
“What can I say, I like to live dangerously.”
He smiled, and her lips twitched similarly in a response she could barely control. Last night, before she had known she was conversing with Ellis, she had enjoyed his whispered confidences and flirtatious remarks. He’d made her laugh so often that her cheeks had ached. Too bad that could not continue. A rake did not suddenly become safe or respectable. “So you do.”
Despite her anxiety in his presence, he made himself comfortable, crossing one leg over the other as if he planned to stay awhile. Mary dragged her attention back to his face. “I trust you are in good spirits.”
He tilted his head to the side and his gaze dropped down to her feet and rose slowly. “The Fenwick Masquerade was quite…”
“Amusing?” she suggested, fearing his description.
“Stimulating would be a better description,” he murmured with a quirk of his lips. “I had no idea an hour or two could change my opinion so profoundly.”
She stared at his lip when he took one between his teeth. Mary cleared her throat as her body reacted to him with so little provocation. “You did say it was a scandalous gathering. I imagine a rake would be used to that sort of thing by now.”
“There are some things a man is never prepa
red for.” He wrinkled his nose. “Let me ask you something. Are you aware that your brother was once chased out of his lover’s bed three times in one week because the husband kept coming home unexpectedly early?”
She frowned. “My brother? I thought that was you running away.”