sight of you copulating with her nanny.”
“I don’t copulate with Bea’s nanny—not in front of her, in any case. It bores her terribly and rather spoils my mood when she keeps asking when I’ll be finished.”
His shallowness and frivolity were fully back to the fore. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or confused. “When do I meet her?”
“We can leave London as soon as your brother’s dinner takes place—in any case, it will look odd should we continue to remain in town.”
“That will be satisfactory enough. Good night, Lord Hastings.”
He nodded. “Lady Hastings.”
But at the connecting door he turned back. “An experienced virgin, my dear—you are a dream come true. I shall think of you all night long.”
You never sleep in your own bed anymore,” Millie teased Fitz.
Her lovely face and sweet eyes—he could not get enough of looking at her. He lifted a strand of her hair and brought it to his lips. “What a shame. And I like my own bed so well, too.”
She waggled an eyebrow. “I have an idea: From time to time we can both sleep in your bed.”
He brushed the tip of her nose with the ends of her own hair and lifted a brow back at her. “Does that mean you will actually come into my chamber at night, undress me, and demand satisfaction?”
She trailed a finger down the center of his torso. “I thought I already did that—twice—when we were on holiday.”
“That there will be a third time still astonishes me—for almost eight years you said nothing about how fervently you wished to seduce me.”
“All the more reason for me to do it as often and as brazenly as possible.”
He laughed softly. “Shall I tell you again how complete my happiness is?”
She rubbed the inside of her wrist against the beginning of his stubble. “Even with Helena almost ruined today?”
“You are not still blaming yourself, are you?”
“Let me assure you, lover dearest, that having gone to America and back, and dragged Helena all over town this Season just so she was never left alone, I don’t feel as guilty as I probably ought. My mother used to say, ‘There is no stopping a determined mischief maker.’”
“And your mother, bless her memory, was always right.”
“But I am worried. Helena will want to ignore Hastings to the best of her ability. And Hastings…he’d rather be buried alive than be ignored.”
Fitz shook his head. “Those two. I’ll have a word with him tomorrow.”
“I already had a word with him in the last telegram I sent—I don’t suppose he took my advice to heart.”
“You would no more have followed the same advice had he given it to you a few weeks ago.”
“True, but I’ve changed. Now I will openly admit my true feelings, which are that”—she cleared her throat playfully—“I am resolutely committed to being the joy and the light at the center of your existence.”
He couldn’t help smiling: How fortunate he was, how privileged, to have her tonight and always. “Come here, Joy-and-Light,” he murmured. “Let me hold you with both arms.”
Hastings very much wished to bang his head on a bedpost. Another time he might have done so, but Helena was in the next room. Should she hear any suspicious sounds coming from his direction, she’d immediately assume that he’d defied her edict and was rutting with a housemaid in a deliberately noisy fashion. He was almost tempted to make his bed squeak, just to see whether she’d kick down his door in anger.
This was not at all how he’d imagined it would be when he finally had her in the mistress’s room. At this point in the night, after having exhausted themselves making love, they should have been snuggled under the covers, whispering and giggling like children, telling each other naughty jokes, describing slightly impossible sexual feats they planned to try as soon as they’d regained their breath.
That future was not supposed to feel more distant than ever.
CHAPTER 6
Hastings had instructed his staff not to trouble their new mistress until eight o’clock in the morning. But she was awake at the crack of dawn, moving about in her room—so close, yet so inaccessible.
He bathed, dressed, and entered her room after a quick knock. She wasn’t in the bedroom, but in her sitting room, standing before a shelf of books in a visiting gown, examining the titles on the spines. Each title had been chosen either because she’d expressed a preference for it, or because he’d inferred, based on what he knew of