The Bachelor Earl - Darcy Burke Page 0,14

To perhaps make a match,” he clarified. “It’s probably time I take a wife, or so my mother has been telling me for the past decade.” He cracked a smile.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” She ran her thumb along his supple lower lip. “I am, however, ready for another kiss. Are you?”

“More than.”

She rose on her toes again as he swept her against him. His mouth crashed against hers. She plunged her fingers into his hair, cupping his head as she held on to him fiercely. His hands moved across her upper back and then lower, one of them clutching her backside.

She pressed into him, her sex pulsing with need. Perhaps a liaison would be welcome…

By the time they separated, they were both breathing hard. He rested his forehead against hers. “I didn’t close the door.”

“Oh.” She should be scandalized, but she couldn’t muster even a modicum of horror or regret. She clutched his lapels and brushed her lips against his once more. “I’m going upstairs to get ready for dinner. Please don’t follow me. This is…lovely. It’s also more than I anticipated.”

He nodded once. “I understand. I’m a patient man, Genie.”

She looked up at him. “I’m not making any promises.”

“And I have no expectations.” He smiled broadly. “Just all the hope in the world.”

After dinner that night, the women adjourned to the drawing room as usual. Genie took a chair situated with a small settee and another pair of chairs. Lady Bradford, Mrs. Grey, and Lady Clinton joined her as the other ladies gathered together near the fireplace.

Genie knew Lady Bradford—Lettie—quite well and was somewhat acquainted with Mrs. Grey. She’d met Lady Clinton only a few times. Lady Clinton and Mrs. Grey sat together on the settee, while Lettie sat in a chair angled next to Genie’s.

Lady Clinton, who was several years younger than Genie with dark red hair and wide brown eyes, glanced around at everyone in their circle. “Lady Cosford has done such a wonderful job with this party. I can’t believe it’s almost half over. Do you think there is any chance she can make it last longer?”

“You’re missing your children as much as I am?” Mrs. Grey asked sardonically. She was perhaps even younger than Lady Clinton, which made Genie realize she might very well be one of the oldest guests, if not the oldest. They both laughed, and Lettie joined in.

Genie smiled but couldn’t bring herself to laugh with the others. She had no children of her own, not anymore. She had her stepson, Titus, of course, but he was well past the age of depending on her. Her daughter, Eliza, would be sixteen if she’d lived. Sometimes, Genie thought about the things they would be doing.

“My apologies, Genie,” Lettie said warmly. She knew Genie had lost Eliza to illness at the age of three.

“It’s all right. It is a nice party.” Nice. That word didn’t adequately describe Lord Satterfield’s kiss. Was she really going to continue to think of him as “Lord Satterfield” now? Did he go by Edmund or some other name?

Mrs. Grey turned toward Genie, her blue eyes inquisitive. “Your Grace, why didn’t you play blind man’s buff earlier?”

Genie considered telling her a fib—that she didn’t like to be blindfolded or she hated feeling dizzy. But instead, she was honest. “I’m not quite ready for a match.”

“Kissing isn’t a match, especially at this party,” Lady Clinton said, adjusting her necklace so the amber cross rested just below the hollow of her throat. “Especially if it’s up to Sir Nathaniel to do the kissing.” She rolled her eyes as she referred to the way he’d kissed her upon finding and correctly guessing her identity. He’d pressed a chaste kiss to the back of her hand.

Everyone laughed, and Mrs. Grey said in a whisper, “It could have been far worse. Mr. Howell could have tried to shove his tongue down your throat.”

“I wondered if that’s what he was trying,” Lettie said, shaking her head.

“I accidentally stepped on his foot. Hard.” Mrs. Grey smiled demurely. “Thankfully, he was wearing slippers instead of boots.”

“I do understand your reticence,” Lady Clinton said. “I’m in no hurry to wed either. Twice may be quite enough.”

Genie had forgotten that the viscountess had been married twice. “Would you consider it a third time?” She wasn’t sure she could risk it. The thought of losing another husband filled her with dread.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Lady Clinton dropped her voice. “My second marriage wasn’t a love match. My