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“For God sakes—”

“Oh, my,” a voice gasped.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “I thought you closed the door.”

Felicity looked over her shoulder and froze. It was the countess. She knew how terribly improper they must appear, with the earl sitting on the sofa and her in this disheveled sate on the floor between his legs.Good gracious.

The countess stunned her by grinning and whirled around. Felicity heard her calling for the dowager countess through the thick oak door. When she looked back at the earl, he looked pained. Felicity started to laugh, great shouts of laughter that she could not stop.

“I fail to see the hilarity at the moment,” he growled.

Her shoulders shook, and she dropped his leg to the floor. Not resisting the urge that flowed through her, she pushed from the floor, went over, and dropped into his lap. His eyes lit up then, and a smile curved his mouth. The man was truly, impossibly beautiful.

And he wanted her beyond tupping. He even wanted to remain friends. As if they could. Still, she liked the idea of being his friend.

“Phineas,” she said, leaning against his chest. “I like you too.”

He held her lightly by the waist and kissed her on the lips. They moved to the carpet, where they spent almost three hours playing chess and laughing and drinking. By the time they had played their fourth game, Felicity’s skills had markedly improved. She also feared that she was delightfully tipsy. And decided to tell him of it. “I do believe I am foxed.”

He tossed back the last of his drink. “You appear remarkably composed. No slurred speech, even though your cheeks are delightfully rosy.”

“Whyever would my speech be affected?” she sniffed. “However, I contend it cannot be normal to be seeing two of you, Phineas. It is certainly not agreeable. One of you is already so tempting and dangerous. I cannot manage two!”

Her earl laughed, stood, and tugged her up. She stumbled against him and gasped when he swung her into his arms. It felt most natural as she rested her head against his shoulder and allowed him to carry her away.

CHAPTERTWELVE

Phineas clasped a suddenly singing Felicity close to his chest and made his way down the hallway. Thankfully it was late, and the household and his guests should be abed.

“Where are you taking me, my lord?” she asked drowsily. “Remember,” she said in a faux whisper, for her damn voice rang down the hallway. “No matter how lovely you are, I am not yet ready for your ravishing cock.” She hiccupped. “I meant ravishment cock.”

He faltered as the most aghast gasp reached his ears. It shocked him to feel the tip of his ears burning when his nanna suddenly emerged in the hallway, clutching her cane in her hand, and followed by his mother. For a moment, he thought her eyes glittered with humor before her lashes lowered.

His mother cleared her throat. “Your grandmother was unable to sleep, so…” His mother simply stopped talking and stared at him, a slight blush dusting her cheeks.

His grandmother thumped the cane on the floor. “Well, my boy, is this the sort of lady you mean to make your countess?”

Felicity jolted in his arms, sat up and peered down at his grandmother, who moved closer, arching her brow at their intimacy.

“Oh, it’s nanna,” Felicity said with a soft moue of disappointment.

“Yes,” his grandmother said ominously. “Have you anticipated your marriage? Is that why you are speaking in this…unsupportable manner?”

His fake fiancée brightened. “Please do not worry, your ladyship; it was Phineas who only just taught me about cock, and in a few days—”

He kissed her, swallowing the scandalously damning words.

“Phineas!” his mother cried.

Ignoring that shocked cry, he lifted his head. Felicity was peering up at him with glassy eyes and parted lips. “Why did you stop me from telling nanna that we plan to—”

Bloody hell. He kissed her again. Almost afraid to allow her to speak, he kept his mouth on hers and walked past his shocked relatives. He released her mouth and started to laugh before he had even taken the first step up the stairs.

“You have a beautiful laugh, Phineas,” she gasped.

“You will never drink whisky again,” he vowed, moving as fast as possible to take them out of earshot of his mother and grandmother.

“Oh, I most certainly shall,” she said with a wide, indelicate yawn. “Are you afraid nanna will scold you if you inform her we are to gloriously tup? Are you worried about being terrible, my lord?”


Tags: Alyssa Clarke Historical