Impassioned by Darcy Burke

Chapter 18

Reynolds, Lucien’s butler, showed Constantine into his brother’s library where Lucien sat at his small desk, his hand scratching a pen across parchment. He seemed rather intent on his task since he didn’t react to their arrival.

“Lord Aldington is here to see you,” Reynolds said, prompting Lucien to look up.

Lucien blinked, then wiped his hand over his face.

The butler left and Constantine moved toward the desk, which stood beside a window that looked out to the back garden. “Good morning, Lucien.”

Lucien put his paper into a drawer and stood. “Another surprising visit. Can this be, what, the second in a fortnight?”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Constantine sat in one of the wingback chairs near the hearth.

“Do you want a drink?” Lucien asked, taking a step toward his liquor cabinet.

“No, thank you. I can’t stay long. Too much happening at Westminster this week.”

“Ah yes, the Importation Bill?” At Constantine’s nod, Lucien continued. “Have you decided how you will vote?”

“You sound like Father. Yes, and don’t ask me about it. Please.”

Lucien’s brows climbed his forehead. “Such manners. And you’re almost…smiley.” He narrowed his eyes. “You seem happy. What’s wrong?”

Constantine laughed.

“Dear God, you’re laughing.” Lucien strode to him and put his hand against Constantine’s forehead. “Are you feverish?”

Swatting Lucien’s hand away, Constantine pursed his mouth up at his brother. “Stop being an ass and sit down.”

“I’ve been admonished.” Lucien sat opposite him and straightened his waistcoat—he wasn’t wearing a coat. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this highly entertaining call?” His eyes widened. “You and Lady Aldington have reached an accord.”

“We weren’t at odds.” They just hadn’t been…together. And now they were. Saturday’s phaeton race to Richmond had been the best he’d ever undertaken and the fact that he’d arrived first wasn’t the reason. It was his wife’s company and perhaps the stop they’d made on the return that had involved a well-hidden tree and resulted in the loss of a button on his fall.

“Why are you smirking like that?” Lucien asked.

Constantine shook his head. “No reason.”

“Liar. You’re positively smitten. In fact, I would say you are glowing.” Lucien leaned back in his chair, looking smug. “You’re welcome.”

Smitten? Yes, he was. He was tumbling headfirst into love with his wife, and the sensation was at once unsettling and delightful. He chose not to dwell upon it but to just enjoy her company and the time they spent together.

The last thing Lucien said finally sank into Constantine’s brain. “I should thank you?”

“The tutor helped, did she not?”

“Yes, but I admit to feeling a sense of guilt about it.”

Lucien’s brows climbed in surprise. “Did you have sexual intercourse with her?”

Constantine ignored the heat that rose in his face. “No, but I should tell her about our meetings so that we can put all of it behind us.”

“Don’t.” Lucien shook his head. “What would be the point? You aren’t going to see the tutor again, she helped you when you needed it, and I daresay Sabrina is just as happy as you are to have gotten to where you are now. It would be a shame for you to mope about it.”

“I’m not moping.” Constantine narrowed his eyes at Lucien before deciding he would much rather bask in the newfound bliss he’d found with Sabrina than think of the tutor—or the past at all. “I came here to ask why I was invited to your club. Frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t realize that.”

Lucien exhaled as he rested his elbow on the arm of the chair. “I thought that was perhaps why, but I wanted you to bring it up. You were invited because the membership committee deemed you worthy.”

“All it took was you recommending me?”

“I think the smiling and the laughing probably helped.” The statement was mildly facetious and normally would have made Constantine scowl. Instead, he rolled his eyes.

Lucien leaned forward. “Did you just roll your eyes again?”

Constantine ignored his brother’s inanity. “Sabrina says the purpose of the club is to provide a place for those who feel excluded elsewhere. Did you really not invite me before because I didn’t want to join, or is it because I am included in Society?”

“That is the purpose, and yes, I didn’t see you as someone who needed inclusion. I’ve changed my mind about that of late, however.”

This grabbed Constantine’s full attention. “Why?”

“Because I see you more clearly. You felt like an outsider in your own marriage. And when I think about how you interact in Society, you don’t seem to enjoy it. You involve yourself because it’s expected, particularly with Cass having her Season. Also, because of your work in the Commons, which actually means a great deal to you. All those things make you a good candidate for the Phoenix Club. I hope you’ll accept the invitation. I think you’ll find camaraderie there.”

Constantine didn’t have many friends. In fact, only Brightly and the other members of the racing club came to mind. “How did Horace Brightly and his wife qualify for membership?”

“Don’t think of it as a qualification. The club seeks to grow its numbers by inviting people with good intentions and kind hearts, and in particular those in possession of qualities that are overlooked elsewhere—sometimes because of those traits.”

Brightly was certainly good intentioned and had one of the kindest hearts Constantine knew. “And Sabrina?” he asked, despite thinking he already knew the answer.

Lucien looked at him as if he should know the answer. “Con, you know your wife. At least, I hope you do by now. She should have been invited a year ago, and the only reason she wasn’t is because I knew you wouldn’t support it.”

That hurt. Constantine looked away, frowning. “She isn’t comfortable in Society, but she’s trying.” She was sponsoring his sister and hosting a damn ball when both of those things would have made her hide under her bed a year ago.

“We are thrilled to have her as a member of the Phoenix Club,” Lucien said.

Constantine met his brother’s eyes. “I don’t know that I’m a good candidate, actually.”

“I disagree. The question is whether you want to be included. Do you?”

“I’m not sure it’s for the right reasons. My wife is a member, so I feel I should be too. Plus, my brother owns the damn place, so it seems as though I should support his endeavor.”

A wide grin split Lucien’s face, reminding Constantine of how he looked when he found a stashed biscuit in their nursery. “I would love to have you in my club. Truly. I never imagined you’d even consider it. Please do—you’re not the man you think you are,” he added softly.

Constantine agreed with that much. If he’d learned anything since Sabrina had come to town, it was that she had the power to topple his strictly ordered life. The man he thought he was would be horrified and seek a return to order. Not that things were disordered, but they were different. Unexpected.

He stood, his errand completed, though he still hadn’t reached a decision about the invitation. “Be sure to come to Sabrina’s ball. I need for this to be a smashing success for her.”

Lucien got to his feet, smiling. “You’re turning into a rather caring husband. I shall have to believe in miracles after all. Oh, here it comes, another eye roll.”

Constantine shook his head. “You’re a provoking menace.”

“I thought I was a troll.”

“That too. Just be at the ball and be your most spectacular self. Everything you touch turns out wonderfully.”

A darkness crept into Lucien’s eyes, and the smile faded from his mouth. “That is hardly true. But I will do everything I can to ensure your wife is the most celebrated hostess in London come Saturday morning.”

“Thank you.” It felt good to be aligned with his brother. And it would feel even better when his wife’s ball was the success of the Season.

The face staring back at Sabrina in the glass was the same one as the day before and the day before that. Yet, she looked different. There was a softness to her mouth and a sparkle in her gaze. She could attribute the change to the past week and the absolute joy it had brought.

Or perhaps it was because she was with child.

Sabrina’s courses arrived every twenty-eight days without fail. She could set a clock to them, and as of today, she was two days beyond their arrival. It was difficult not to giggle with excitement and hope. She’d never, ever been late, not in twenty-two months of marriage.

But then she was certain that she and Constantine had engaged in more sex over the past week than in those prior twenty-one and three-quarters months. She did giggle then because she couldn’t help herself. She’d come to London for a baby, but she’d gotten so much more.

Love for her husband swelled in her chest. She hadn’t told him how she felt, but she would soon. Perhaps when she told him about the babe. Which she wouldn’t do yet. It was far too early, even if she was all but certain.

There was something else she should confess—the deception of pretending to be his tutor.

A light rap on the door drew Sabrina to rise from the stool at her dressing table. Answering the door, Sabrina was pleased to see it was Evie. Her friend bustled in, her dark purple gown shimmering in the candlelight. “Sabrina, you are a vision! This is going to be the most wonderful ball.”

Closing the door, Sabrina pivoted toward Evie, smoothing her hands over the gold and ivory gown. The thought behind it was to be a mix of debut, which was the ivory, and dazzling, which was the gauzy gold overskirt. Gold stitching and ribbon were worked into the ivory as a further complement.

“The pearls are an excellent choice.” Evie inclined her head toward the necklace encircling Sabrina’s throat. She also wore matching earbobs.

“They belonged to Constantine’s mother. I’ve never been bold enough to wear them before. He insisted I do so tonight.”

“I’m glad, for they are a brilliant accessory to your costume. I’m so happy for you and Aldington. I can’t help thinking your inner happiness is giving you a special glow tonight.”

Sabrina nearly blurted that it was perhaps due to carrying a child but diverted her thoughts to keep from spilling the secret before she was ready. “I think I’m going to tell Constantine that I was his tutor. Tonight—after the ball.”

Evie blinked. “But this is such a wonderful occasion. Why darken it? In fact, do you need to tell him at all?”

“I think I must.” Sabrina frowned. “He deserves the truth.”

Evie took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You both benefitted, and I think you’d both agree it was worth every moment.”

Was it worth keeping a lie? Sabrina wasn’t sure she agreed, but she could see postponing her confession. “You’re right that tonight is a singular occasion.” After all, she had a lifetime to tell him the truth, though she wouldn’t wait that long.

Letting go of Sabrina’s hand, Evie smiled broadly. “Indeed, it is. You are going to be a triumph!”

Sabrina didn’t share Evie’s confidence, but she certainly appreciated it. While she’d made great progress in conquering her anxiety since returning to town, tonight would be an entirely new experience. She prayed all would go well and that the nervous tremors flitting throughout her body were for naught. She just needed to make sure that she sought quiet and solitude if she felt overwhelmed. As the hostess, that would be difficult, but she would try.

Constantine would also provide support. He made her feel like she really could conquer her trepidation. Just thinking of him settled her nerves and spread a calming warmth through her.

There was another knock, which Evie offered to answer while Sabrina donned her gloves. Cass and Miss Lancaster came into the room, the former bubbling with energy and the latter as cool and serene as ever.

Cass froze and stared at Sabrina, her gaze sweeping over her costume. “Oh, Sabrina, what an absolutely gorgeous gown. I am quite jealous.”

Sabrina laughed. “Stop. Your wardrobe is stunning, and tonight’s gown is no exception.” As a young lady in her first Season, Cass would typically wear pale colors and white or ivory. However, her ball gowns, in particular, were often constructed of more vibrant colors. Tonight’s was burgundy with silver accents. It was dramatic and eye-catching. Sabrina still didn’t understand why gentlemen weren’t knocking each other over to claim her hand.

Gloves in place, Sabrina took a final look in the glass. She took a deep breath and faced the other women. “I want to thank each of you for being so kind and wonderful since I returned to London this Season. I could not have managed this ball, or many other things, without your guidance and support, but most of all your friendship. I have never had friends before, and I can see that it was because I hadn’t met you yet.”

Miss Lancaster let out a rather loud sniff and immediately clapped her hand over her mouth and nose. The normally unruffled young woman’s eyes rounded, and her cheeks flooded with color. “I beg your pardon,” she murmured.

Cass moved to her side. “Everything all right, Pru?”

“Quite.” She pinched her nose, then lowered her hand. “I was just trying not to sneeze is all.”

Sabrina didn’t think that was the case at all but would let the woman provide whatever excuse she wanted. She recognized and understood a person who wanted to stay out of the spotlight, who preferred to be completely unremarkable.

Anotherrap on the door drew their attention. This time it was Mrs. Haddock wearing a slightly harassed expression that drove a stake of cold fear straight into Sabrina’s chest.

The housekeeper glanced toward the other ladies in the room before settling her attention on Sabrina. “There is a slight issue with the musicians, my lady. If you’re ready, would you mind accompanying me to the drawing room?”

“I am ready, thank you.” She glanced toward Evie. “Perhaps you should come along.” Sabrina had learned it was quite acceptable to ask for help, and she had no problem doing so.

“Certainly.” Evie accompanied her from the chamber, and they made their way to the drawing room where the musicians were setting up their instruments in the corner.

Sabrina could already see what was wrong. Because she could count, and one member was missing. Over the next five minutes, she listened patiently as the cellist explained that their missing member was sick, but that she would not notice their absence. Sabrina only hoped that was true.

“Don’t fret,” Evie said, touching Sabrina’s arm. “This is a minor inconvenience.”

“You’re right. It’s not as though the champagne is bad.” Oh dear, what if the champagne or another beverage was bad? It wasn’t as if she could sample every one of them, and even that wouldn’t give her complete confidence.

“You mustn’t worry.” Evie’s voice was soft and earnest, reassuring.

“I am doing my best.” Sabrina saw her husband enter the drawing room and felt instantly calmer. “Pardon me.” She walked toward him, and he stopped short, his gaze arresting on her.

Constantine’s eyes slitted, seeming to smolder as he stared at her. “You are lovelier than you have ever been. My mother’s pearls are perfect on you.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the inside of her gloved wrist. “I despise these gloves, however.”

Smiling, Sabrina told him about the musicians. He surprised her by shrugging and saying if that was all that went amiss tonight, they should consider themselves fortunate.

Her good humor fled. “Are you saying you expect something else to go wrong?”

He squeezed her hand. “Not at all. It will be spectacular.”

Haddock interrupted them, his brow creased. Sabrina tensed more than she already was.

The butler address Constantine. “I beg your pardon, my lord, but we had an accident with the champagne supply. I don’t think we’ll run out, but I wanted you to be aware of the situation.”

“Thank you, Haddock. I’m sure it will be fine. We have plenty of other wines to drink.”

“We do indeed. I will be positioning myself in the foyer in a few minutes and will see you downstairs.” Inclining his head, the butler hurried off.

Constantine turned to her and brushed his fingertips against her cheek. “It’s almost time. You will be brilliant. Everything will be brilliant.” He leaned close and kissed her.

“You shouldn’t do that in front of everyone.” Everyone being the musicians, Evie, and a handful of maids and footmen.

“Perhaps, but I can’t help myself. Honestly, Sabrina, you look good enough to eat.” His gaze darkened with provocation, and she knew precisely what he meant.

Heat danced through her, and she felt better than she had a moment ago. She also realized he was wearing a gold waistcoat that complemented her gown. “You’ve never worn a waistcoat with color.” She touched the gold brocade and fingered one of the pearl buttons.

“I wanted us to match, to present ourselves as a… I don’t know. You like it?”

“As a couple who coordinate their costumes?” She smiled again, her good humor returning. “And yes, I like it—and you—very much.” Beyond that. She loved him hopelessly and never more in that moment as he sought to allay her fears.

He presented his arm. “Let us take up our places in the foyer to greet our guests. I hope you are ready to spend the next hour talking and smiling so much your face will feel as though it will fall off.”

The apprehension she was trying to keep at bay rose up in her throat. But she refused to succumb. The old Sabrina would never have had the courage to do this. New Sabrina might be nervous, but she would get through it. Especially with this man at her side.

It was near the end of the hour when Sabrina’s parents arrived. Her eldest sister had already come through a short time before, and Sabrina was glad to have spoken with her without the dampening presence of their mother.

As Haddock announced the Viscount Tarleton and Lady Tarleton, Sabrina stiffened. Constantine’s hand gently stroked the small of her back, and she relaxed slightly. She suddenly realized how all that had seemed impossible was now possible—due to the presence and support of her husband. With him at her side, she felt as though she could face anything.

Sabrina’s father was tall and thin with an exceptionally angular face and sparse gray hair. He regarded her with one narrowed eye, assessing her from head to foot before turning his perusal on Constantine. “Aldington.” He spared her one more fleeting glance. “Daughter.”

“Good evening, Father,” she said evenly. “I hope you’ve been well.”

“Quite, thank you.” He stepped forward, allowing Sabrina’s mother to stand in front of her.

The viscountess’s appraisal took longer and felt far more exacting. “What a bold gown, dear.”

Constantine’s fingers skimmed along her lower spine. “She looks stunning, doesn’t she?”

“She seems a bit thin, honestly.” The implication was clear—she couldn’t possibly be increasing. Sabrina gently bit the inside of her mouth lest she blurt that she could, in fact, be expecting an heir.

Before Sabrina could summon a retort—and she doubted she could—Constantine clasped her waist. “I hope you have a pleasant evening, Lady Tarleton.” He nodded toward the viscount. “Tarleton.”

Dismissed, Sabrina’s parents moved along toward the staircase hall. Though the downstairs was mostly open to guests, since the dining room contained the refreshments and the parlor held gaming tables, everyone funneled upstairs to the drawing room when they arrived.

Sabrina exhaled as her parents departed. She leaned her head toward Constantine. “Thank you.”

“Ignore them,” he whispered. “They are completely beneath your concern.” The frigidity in his tone made her shiver. She’d once thought she was beneath his concern, or at least his notice, and that was a terrible place to be. It was, however, a deserving situation for her parents.

Shortly thereafter, they finished their duties in the foyer. Anyone arriving after they left would simply be admitted without a personal greeting.

“I’m going to do a circuit and see how things are going,” Sabrina said. “Would you mind checking the parlor and seeing if the games are running smoothly?”

“I am at your command.” He kissed the back of her hand, then winked at her before taking himself off.

Smiling with a contented sigh, Sabrina went first to the dining room. The sideboard, set with the first small wave of food, looked lovely, but there was an empty space. Something was missing. Scanning the room, Sabrina saw a footman in the corner and strode to him.

“Archer, did something happen to one of the dishes meant for the table?”

He grimaced just slightly before he schooled his features into a serene mask. “There was a problem with the lobster cakes, my lady. Two of the kitchen maids who sampled them this morning fell ill.”

“Oh dear, are they all right?” Sabrina made a mental note to talk with Mrs. Haddock as soon as possible.

“I can’t say.”

“Well, at least the cakes didn’t arrive on the table.”

“Actually, they did, ma’am. The maids only became sick in the last half hour or so. Mrs. Haddock just had the cakes removed before you came in.”

Sabrina wanted to ask if anyone had eaten them before they were taken from the table but was afraid to learn the answer. Offering him a tepid smile, she left the dining room on wooden legs. They were short a musician, the champagne supply was low, and they might have made a guest—or ten—ill from bad lobster cakes.

What more could go wrong?

Sabrina didn’t want the answer to that either.

Her wishes didn’t matter since not five minutes later, a footman informed her that the second delivery of ice hadn’t arrived. After instructing him to make the current stock last as long as possible, she considered retreating to the second floor for the remainder of the evening.

She could not, of course, so she went to the drawing room and braced herself for yet another disaster. And there he was across the room scrutinizing her with narrowed eyes and a deep frown. The Duke of Evesham had apparently arrived while she was in the dining room. Blast, Sabrina had prayed, rather foolishly, that he’d decided not to come.

Hoping to avoid Constantine’s father, at least for a short while, she went in search of Evie or Cassandra or Miss Lancaster—anyone but him. Or her parents. She found a great many people and spent the subsequent half hour or so conversing with guests until the next set of music began and dancers flocked to the dance floor.

As she made her way through the throng, she walked straight into her father-in-law. She ought to have known she couldn’t avoid him forever. Was it too much to hope she could have evaded him tonight though?

“Your Grace, I hope you’re enjoying yourself,” she managed to say. “Is there anything you require?”

“A full complement of musicians would suffice. Or a glass of punch with a decent amount of ice. Everyone is complaining about the shortage of ice.” He frowned at her, and she wished she could melt into the floor. “But all of that will fade from my memory when you find a suitor for my daughter. It’s been nearly a fortnight and you’ve nothing to show for your efforts.”

“That’s not exactly true. Lord Glastonbury is a worthy candidate.” She hoped so, but Constantine hadn’t confirmed his viability as a potential husband.

The duke’s brows shot up. “Glastonbury is in the mix?” He grunted softly, then narrowed his eyes at her, which seemed to be the way he typically preferred to regard her. “Until he pays a call, it’s just your wishful thinking. You’ll need to do better than this if you want to keep your position.”

Sabrina’s frustration and distress from the succession of troubles neared a boiling point. “What position is that? I am the future Duchess of Evesham,” she said sweetly, feeling rather proud of her ability to stand up to him.

“As Cassandra’s sponsor,” the duke said sharply. “There is nothing I can do about your position in my family as Constantine’s wife, but hopefully you will serve your purpose.” His gaze flicked to her midsection, and it was clear he meant that she would bear her husband an heir.

“If you’ll excuse me, Your Grace, I’ve a ball to oversee.” She didn’t bother trying to smile pleasantly or otherwise.

“Yes, you do. So far, it doesn’t seem to be going well.” Lines of disappointment creased around his mouth before he turned and left the drawing room.

Sabrina fought to take a breath. The heat of the air was cloying, and the stress of the evening was pressing down on her. As she walked into the hall, Constantine stepped from the stairs, his brow furrowed.

She hastened to meet him at the top of the stairs. “What’s wrong now?”

His eyes flashed with surprise. “Wrong? Nothing. I just ran into my father and—” He shook his head. “Never mind. Why did you think something was wrong?”

“Because everything is. There’s not enough champagne or ice or musicians. And we may have poisoned guests with the lobster cakes.” Hysteria started to thicken her chest. She reached for the stair rail to steady herself.

Constantine clasped her elbow and drew her to the passage that led to the backstairs. Opening the door, he gently pushed her into the dim space at the top of the stairs, then sealed them into relatively quiet solitude.

“Breathe, Sabrina,” he said softly, clasping her shoulders and running his hands down her arms. “It can’t be as bad as all that.”

“Everything I said is true, and your father also warned me to ensure your sister has a caller.” Her voice had risen as she’d spoken, and her breath was coming in rapid pants.

Constantine took her in his arms and held her against his chest where the steady beat of his heart had an instantly soothing effect. “Don’t fret. My father is an ass. Ignore him, please. The rest of it is beyond our control. The lobster cakes were removed, I hope?”

“Of course. However, I don’t know if anyone ate any. I couldn’t bear to ask.” She shuddered against him. “I’m going to be known as the worst hostess in London’s history.”

“No, you won’t. Everyone seems to be having a jolly time, especially in the gaming room.”

She pulled back and looked up at him. “Truly?”

He smiled at her and stroked his thumb over her cheek. “You are flushed, and your heart is hammering. I would prefer to be the one to provoke this reaction.” He lowered his head and kissed the spot just in front of her ear before flicking his tongue against her earlobe.

“If you’re trying to distract me, it’s working.” She could not ignore the desire pooling in her belly, nor did she want to.

“Excellent.” He cupped her nape and kissed her, his tongue tangling with hers. He tasted of hock—good hock—and smelled of cedar and spice. Her senses rejoiced at the familiarity of him, and she gave herself up to his embrace.

When he cupped her breast, she gasped against his mouth. “Constantine, we should probably return to the ball.”

“Probably. But will we be missed for five minutes?” He pivoted with her, steering her toward the door that led into her dressing room, which the maid used when she came from the back stairs.

“Where are you taking me?”

He opened the door and moved them into the small chamber. “You know where this leads, so that can’t be what you truly want to know. I think you want to know what I have planned.”

“I can well imagine, you rogue. You will crumple my gown or mess my hair. Or both.”

“What if I could avoid doing that?” He kissed along her throat. “Remember the other night when you were on your knees and I came into you from behind?”

A feverish heat broke over her skin and need pulsed between her legs. How could she forget that? She’d behaved like an utter wanton. “You want to go into the bedchamber?”

He lifted his gaze to hers and gently shook his head. “That would crumple your gown for certain. I want you to bend over the end of the chaise.” He inclined his head past her to the chaise in the opposite corner.

She turned to look at the piece of furniture, the high end of which was at about the level of her waist. This was madness. She ought to refuse him and march them back out to the ball. Her body did not agree, and so it was that she walked to the chaise as if carried by wings that didn’t belong to her.

Standing at the high end of the chaise, she looked back at him over her shoulder. He came to her, his eyes slitted with desire, and kissed her again, hot and needy.

He hiked the back of her skirt up, and she bent at the waist, letting the chaise balance her. She put her arms before her onto the seat as he caressed her backside.

“Hurry,” she breathed as his fingers slid into her crease, teasing her and setting her entire body aflame.

“I’m afraid I must. Not just because we can’t take long, but because the sight of you in that gown has been taunting me all evening. And now, seeing you like this…” He thrust a finger into her sex, making her gasp.

“I wish we had more time.” He put his cock against her backside, and she widened her stance, eager for him to enter her. “Later, we will, and then I will do everything I don’t have time for at the moment. Until then—” He drove into her, pushing her against the chaise and creating friction against her clitoris.

He gripped her hips and let go, offering them both up to mindless sensation. She thought only of his touch and the delicious slide of his cock. After only a handful of strokes, her orgasm began to build. She pressed back against him, desperate to take him as deeply as possible. His fingers dug into her flesh as he buried himself to the hilt.

“Hurry, Constantine.” She needed to come. Lights were already dancing behind her eyes.

Increasing his pace to a near frenzy, the sounds of their bodies filled the small space with an erotic symphony. He pushed her forward against the chaise, and she exploded, her sex clenching down around him as devastating shudders wracked her body.

She completely lost sense of time or place and didn’t come back until he helped her straighten. Her gown fell over her legs, and she vaguely realized that he’d tidied her up.

“Thank you.” She felt unsteady and wholly satiated at the same time. Her thighs quivered but the rest of her sang with joy and relief. “You have solved my problems, I think.”

He laughed, then cupped her face. “Good. That is my job.” He kissed her, but it was a brief touch as they were interrupted by a knock at the door they’d come through.

“My lady? Are you in there?” Charity’s voice called.

Sabrina snapped her attention to Constantine. “Go through my bedroom.”

He nodded and slipped from the dressing chamber, blowing a kiss to her on his way out.

Checking her appearance in the glass, Sabrina decided she would use the temperature of the drawing room to excuse her flushed complexion. She opened the door with as much composure as she could muster. “Yes, Charity?”

The maid’s tawny eyes were wide with concern. “I’m so glad I found you. I’m afraid there’s a…problem.”

Sabrina’s stomach dropped all the way down to the kitchen. “What?” The word was barely audible.

“Grayson has found his way into the drawing room during a reel. He was last seen in the dining room where he absconded with a piece of pheasant.” The maid looked as if she wanted to cry, which was precisely how Sabrina felt.