Could he?
Would he?
Aurora could hardly draw a full breath as he slid his hand toward her hip, one delicious inch at a time. She had imagined such a moment in her dreams a thousand times before. But seeing Sullivan’s hand skimming her gown caused her heart rate to take off at a gallop and desire to flare.
He paused and deliberately pinched up a bit of her skirts, causing the fabric to slide up her legs to reveal her ankles. He looked down at her feet, but she was sure the fabric was not high enough to be indecent yet. His intent was clear, and the anticipation exquisite.
But he’d done it to unsettle her and prove his point that he could be wicked when he wanted to be. And perhaps prove it to himself, as well.
His breathing was labored and when their gaze met, she saw desire writ large all over his face…but then a familiar expression flashed, and he drew away.
Clare. He’d thought of his late wife, even when he shouldn’t have the wits to feel guilt.
He was silent for several minutes, breathing hard, before he cleared his throat. “There, now you’ve seen the real me, not the more cautious face I present to the world. I hope you understand now why I have not married yet. I’ve never met anyone I could desire before tonight.”
Aurora sat up straighter, smoothed down her skirts and reached for the teapot. She poured herself a second cup with hands that were not quite steady anymore. “I’m sure under the right circumstances you could feel lust for anyone. But I was not speaking of only flirting, but of indulging in a tryst. Take a lover, Sullivan, a mistress, or even pay a whore from the street soon, and perhaps you would not be dreading the very idea of bedding every woman you meet. That is what you’re truly worried about, isn’t it? Whether you can?”
He stared at her, jaw clenching. “I was.”
Of course, he was. She sipped her tea, but then set it aside again. She’d never met so loyal a man as Lord Sullivan. He would take his love for Clare to the grave. But loving his first wife still would not bring satisfaction in the marriage bed with bride number two. “Think carefully about what I said tonight. Sleep on it.”
Aurora left him there in the library and returned to her cousin, grappling with a guilty conscience. She’d almost dared Sullivan to do what he’d done. She should never have let things go so far. She ought to have stopped him, and because Sullivan had the ability to fluster her when he touched her body, she had not behaved as a lady was expected. She’d been moments away from doing something truly rash…like climbing into his lap and kissing him witless.
Now that would have truly shocked him.
She tugged on Eugenia’s sleeve. “I think I am ready to go home to Wharton House.”
“Oh, I thought you would stay the night,” Eugenia said.
“No. I have something to do very early in the morning. For Sylvia,” she lied, uncertain how to explain why she couldn’t stay. No one needed to know about Sullivan’s attempt at flirtation, or that he was uncommonly good at it, too.
“Oh, very well. I’ll have a carriage brought round soon.”
Before she could answer, Sullivan cut in. “If I might offer my own carriage to your cousin, Mrs. Berringer. It has already been called and can come back for me.”
“Oh, that is very kind of you,” Eugenia said, accepting on Aurora’s behalf without bothering to ask her opinion.
“When you are ready, Miss Hillcrest,” Sullivan murmured, gesturing toward the front hall.
She did not particularly care for Sullivan’s offer that would essentially take her away from him, but she would not argue with him in front of others. She bit her tongue, bid Eugenia good night, and headed for the front door. When she looked about to say good night and offer thanks for the use of his carriage, Lord Sullivan was nowhere to be seen.
She felt stung by that snub.
The Exeter butler handed her into Sullivan’s comfortable carriage, and she drove off alone, surrounded by darkness and the faintest hint of Sullivan’s cologne lingering in the air about her.
It wasn’t too far to Wharton House, and it was nicely dark, so she wriggled to get comfortable on the velvet seats and lay back her head to think. At least Sullivan couldn’t be too upset, if he would give up his splendid carriage for her use tonight. She dug her fingers into the soft leather seats and sighed, reliving her encounter with the earl.
She did not regret her honesty with him. Sullivan had been given a much-needed prod that there was more to hunting a bride than he currently practiced. She would watch and see if tomorrow or the coming week changed the way he behaved around other women. She would like to see him smile more, and flirt too.
After a few minutes’ travel, the carriage suddenly came to an abrupt stop. She was about to complain when a large shape barged through the doorway.
Sullivan, judging by the increase of the scent of his cologne in the air.
He sat beside her in the carriage, forcing her nearer to the window, and had the coachman continue on their way. “I didn’t want anyone to know we were alone together,” he whispered.
“Why are we?” she whispered back.
“Good question.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t really know.”