Chapter Three
Lady Charity shifted, clearly restless at being confined with Ethan behind the curtains. He inexplicably became all at once aware of small things, the subtle scent of her perfume and the woman herself, how delightfully rounded her backside was as it brushed against his upper thighs, and that her head barely brushed his chin. Still, her height seemed perfect should he tuck her close to him.
He felt her draw in a quick, sharp breath. The lady was also aware of how close their bodies were. Too close.
“You should have hidden underneath the desk,” she muttered.
He did not dignify that ridiculousness with an answer.
“Why is a man of your stature breaking into the viscount’s home?” she continued, sounding thoroughly aggrieved.
“I confess I had thought to simply put a bullet through him. This seemed more expedient and less messy.”
“You, fight in a duel?”
The lady sounded perplexed and fascinated. He could feel the familiar tension deep inside rise to the surface when another restless shift brought her even closer. Something unknown inside Ethan trembled. Perhaps he had been too long without a lover. That could be the only reason Lady Charity’s proximity affected him. Lie. A small taunting voice warned. That wasn’t the damn reason. It was something more inexplicable.
Still, he wondered where on earth had this painfully acute awareness of this woman come from. It was blasted unnerving. He thought of all the times he had seen her in the ton, mostly at balls and once at the British Museum with his sister and a gaggle of other ladies, all seemed to be caught up in their own world, or the secrecy of their club which he had unearthed months ago.
While he had not overtly lingered on her, he had noticed many things about his sister’s friend. Lady Charity was not often asked to dance at balls, and she stood on the sidelines with her friends, yet he could tell she greatly enjoyed music and dancing. She would watch the crowd, her feet tapping in time to the music with a delighted look on her face.
That delight at times had entranced him and pricked his curiosity about the woman, yet he had resolutely brushed it aside.
More than once, he had overheard other spoilt debutantes refer to her as a wallflower.
She had freckles and sparklingly hazel-green eyes that seemed to always hold wonder and intelligence.
She was the one who had convinced his sister to join a secret ladies’ club and to sneak from the safety of her home to attend their club meetings.
Tonight, he had discovered she was a fearless and reckless hellion, and he might have to re-examine his sister’s friendship with her.
Then perhaps stalwartly prepare for the storm Lady Charity might unleash at what she would consider his unacceptable high-handedness. She turned to face him, and he could barely see the paleness of the face that peered up at him. The lady inched toward the left, and her body brushed against his. Ethan got the impression of soft, rounded breasts and a slender waist. With a silent curse, he clenched his belly tight against the reaction that wanted to rise inside of him.
“Woman, be still,” he hissed in soft warning. “We do not want to draw the viscount and his companion's attention to his drapes.”
“I am being very careful.”
“Why must you be?”
“I intend to check if the windows are fully open. We might perhaps escape notice that way.”
Well. “In the event it escaped your notice, we are on the second floor. Do you have a wish to break your neck?”
“I might have the skills to pull it off,” she whispered stubbornly.
“More likely, I will be forced to save your reckless hide.”
With a huff, she turned around, and a lushly curved bottom pressed against his upper thigh. To Ethan’s embarrassment, blood pooled into his cock, stiffening his manhood with eagerness. He swallowed the silent snarl and tried to create enough space between their bodies without making any noise to arouse the suspicion of the viscount and his companion. It would not do for Lady Charity to feel the indiscipline of his body and mind.
It was bloody ridiculous that he should have such an unpardonable reaction to her. Ethan wasn’t certain he could trust her. He understood her to be his sister’s friend; however, he was aware of how malicious some ladies of the ton could be. Should these letters fall into the wrong hands, they could crush his already devastated sister.
And that he would never tolerate.
Ethan was tempted to hold the chit to him with one hand and, damn her sensibilities to hell, reach into her shirt and retrieve those letters. Forcing aside the rashness of that thought, he took a steady breath, finding his usual equilibrium of logical and practical reasoning. “Earlier, you said that you would give these letters to Jenna.”
“Yes, first thing in the morning,” she whispered. “I promise it!”
“Why will you not trust them to me now?”