Chapter Fourteen

October 12, 1812

George would never say he was a particularly luxurious person.

He had standards, like any gentleman. His standards may, in fact, have been higher than the average gentleman's being, as he was, an earl.

But he was hardly one to complain about small irritations. His butler, his valet, his housekeeper—he was sure none of them had received an unmerited cross word from him. He was rarely cross with them at all.

Yet despite all of that, George thought with his eyes closed and a small furrow across his forehead, he was going to have to speak to someone about this bedlinen.

It was awful. Scratchy, uncomfortable, and most unpleasant to sleep in. Why, George could not recall ever having slept in bedding so terrible.

He couldn't understand it. His staff had always been given carte blanche to buy the very best of whatever they needed. George liked the finer things in life and had never begrudged a bill that was sent his way.

Not that he actually looked at his bills, of course. That was another thing he was going to have to change if he was going to take more responsibility of his own life, his own estate.

So how on earth had anyone who worked for the Lindow household thought buying this sort of abrasive linen was acceptable, he did not know.

George opened his eyes, disgruntled and uncomfortable. Then he blinked.

Well. That would certainly explain it.

He was not in his bed at Lindow House. In fact, from the little he could see in the dark, early morning glow of the room, he wasn't in Lindow House at all.

He blinked again. Then the memories from last night started to flood back.

"There. I'm all the way in. Are you—Dodo, are you—"

"You feel good. Oh!"

"God, you're perfect, Dodo. Just perfect."

The disgruntled sensation melted. George rolled over onto his back and looked up at the ceiling, his mind full of happy reminders of just what he had enjoyed the night before.

Amorous congress. A true, lustful union between two, body and soul.

He had never understood the term before. Oh, he had bedded women, plenty of them. And most of the time, he had felt satisfied.

But never fulfilled.

George grinned up at the ceiling. Not like he had been last night. No, what he and Dodo had shared last night—it went beyond physical satisfaction. After their antics on the dining table, it had not taken long for them to… Ah. Get hungry again.

Taking off all their clothes and trying out the small bed in the other room she had taken had seemed like the best way to solve that problem. And they had. Several times.

George glanced to his left. His smile broadened.

There, curled up on her side, black hair flowing out around her and a peaceful, contented, and most of all exhausted look on her face, was Dodo.

Miss Doris Loughty. The woman he loved.

"And I am desperately in love with you."

"And I-I'm desperately in love with you. Exponentially. At least fifty times more than I could have expected."

He could hardly believe he had admitted it to her. Having never felt that intensity of emotion for anyone before in his life, it was a challenge to understand how it had managed to flow straight from his heart to his lips.

But he had, and perhaps just as importantly, Dodo felt the same way. It was astonishing—he could not understand how he was so fortunate.

After such longing, such restraint, it was a strange sort of happiness to suddenly be so open. To find that sharing one's emotions, one's affections for the other person, was infinitely more pleasurable than keeping it inside.

And speaking of infinitely pleasurable …

George shifted in the bed, trying to keep the stiffness in his manhood to a minimum. It was difficult enough at the best of times in the morning, but with the recollections of what he had so recently enjoyed and the woman with whom he had enjoyed it all lying in bed beside him…

His eyes drifted over to her once more. Ignorant of his gaze, Dodo shifted in the bed, the cover falling down to her waist.

George swallowed. And she was naked. So was he, but that was different.

God, he had never felt this way about anyone before. He had laughed openly when his two older brothers had found themselves entangled with ladies to such an extent that they had to marry them. The idea there could be that sort of connection, one that was wanted, one that was reciprocated…

It had never occurred to him.

And now here he was, lying beside a woman he would cut off his own leg for, and he had no idea what to do with all these feelings, all this energy. This sense that if he didn't do or say something to her, he would explode.

George shifted in the bed, wondering whether Dodo would wake if he pulled her close. If he curled her into him, his body protecting hers, keeping her safe…

Somehow, even the mere thought was enough to disturb her. Blinking in the growing sunlight of the morning, Dodo stirred.

"George," she whispered, still hazy as she got her bearings.

George's pulse skipped a beat. Even sleepy and not quite awake, the first thought that had entered Dodo's mind… had been about him.

"Good morning," he said softly, reaching for her.

Instinct made him do it, and when he brushed her hair from her face so he could see her more clearly, George's stomach lurched.

Natural . That was what it felt like. As though this should be part of every morning.

Dodo's smile was open and lethargic—then her eyes suddenly widened and she hid her face.

George laughed. "Now, then, don't—"

"I can't believe we did that!" Dodo cried out into her pillow.

His chuckles grew in volume. "Dodo, come here."

"I can't believe we—"

"Yes, I know," George said fondly, reaching out with greater certainty this time and pulling her toward him.

His manhood twitched as his hands stroked soft skin, pulling her into him as he lay on his back. Just think of the emotional connection you shared , he tried to tell himself. Don't think about how desperate you are to bury yourself into her once again …

Dodo placed a hand on his chest as her face nestled into his neck. "I can't believe we did it," she whispered.

George tried not to laugh. "All of it, you mean."

"George!"

"I'll be living in those memories for the rest of my life," he said mercilessly. "You honestly think I'm going to forget the way you—"

"George!" Dodo attempted to playfully place her fingers across his lips, hushing him.

George responded in the only way he knew how—by kissing those fingers fiercely, pulling one of them into his mouth and sucking it.

Judging by the sudden gasp and the way Dodo's leg was immediately hooked around his middle, he was doing something right.

"We mustn't," she said softly, though with what sounded to George like a hint of longing. "Not again. I'm sure Mrs. Bryson fell asleep early, as she does, and I can tell her when I see her next that my ‘cousin' left after dinner, but if we make too much noise… No, we can't."

Privately, he quite disagreed. He wasn't sure Dodo actually believed what she was saying, anyway.

All roughness of sheets forgotten, George shifted and tightened his grip around the woman he loved. "In all seriousness, though. Thank you."

"Thank you?"

"For trusting me. Being so open, letting me—"

"Pleasure me with your mouth, and your fingers, and your—"

"The pleasure was all very well," said George swiftly, knowing he would never get that particular image of Dodo being railed on the dining room table out of his mind. And he never wanted to. "But it was the closeness I truly valued, Dodo. The… attachment."

The words did not come naturally to him, but George knew he had to say them. They were true. He had never said them before, not to anyone.

George swallowed. Just to her . "I'll never forget. I'll… I'll treasure those memories forever."

"Does this mean," Dodo said, peering up with a teasing expression, "you don't want to repeat the experience?"

A jolt of need shot to his manhood—which, most inconveniently, was pressed against Dodo's hip.

George swallowed. "I didn't say that."

This was not precisely what he'd had in mind when he'd arrived at Johnson's Buildings yesterday, though he would be a liar indeed if he didn't admit he had hoped.

Expected, however? Quite a different thing.

He really shouldn't permit himself to continue being riled up like this. With every passing moment, his body was getting more and more primed to sink his most delicate self into the warmth of Dodo Loughty. If he stayed here much longer, he would be walking like a crab back to his home.

George's focus flickered to the window.

Soft light was pouring through the thin curtains. Though he had no idea what time it was, the hour could not be any earlier than eight o'clock.

He would need to leave soon, if he had any hope of returning back to Lindow House without being spotted by the somnolent landlady or someone of the ton . The last thing he needed, with all this gossip that he was courting Miss Loughty and how her chaperone was ever just out of sight, was the suggestion that he had in some way taken her honor.

Even if he most definitely had.

That was something he… he would rectify. Shortly. But not immediately.

"So you do want to repeat the experience?"

George swallowed. Damnit . "There is a ninety-nine percent chance I want to repeat it right now —"

Dodo leaned forward and kissed him, softly, on the neck just below his ear.

Closing his ears to fortify himself for the decision he knew he must make—and immediately realizing he could smell the delectable scent of Dodo even better by doing so—George forced himself to say the words he knew he must.

"I have to go."

Dodo nodded, kissing him again on his neck. "Stay."

One word, just one word. It cut to the core of George's restraint as nothing else could.

A simple request. Stay . An order, a command. A request. Visions of Dodo begging him to stay flickered through George's mind, as nothing was so erotic as having a naked Dodo wrapped around him, nuzzling into his neck and breathing her desperate need.

Nothing, as a matter of fact, more erotic than what was happening right now.

George growled and lifted her chin with a finger. One kiss. What damage could that do?

As it turned out, it could utterly wreck him and make him unsuitable for human company. The instant his lips touched hers, George knew he could no longer restrain himself.

Why should he? The sweet hunger on Dodo's lips was matched only by the way her fingers drifted down his chest toward his—

George lost all control. The desires welling up inside him could no longer be ignored, and with Dodo so warm, and so soft, and so eager in turn for his touch…

An hour later, or two, perhaps more, George lay back, panting.

"Dear God," he blew out.

"I think I should be the one getting credit for that," breathed Dodo heavily, falling back onto the bed. "I didn't realize a lady could do that."

George swallowed. He was introducing Dodo to the very worst—or very best—of what two people could share together. If he wasn't careful, he was going to find himself trapped here, in Dodo's rooms, in Dodo's bed, for a significant portion of the day.

"What time is it?" she asked muzzily from his side.

George heaved a sigh. "Late, I would imagine."

When he swung his legs over the side of the bed, she groaned in protest, but she wasn't able to reach him. He rose, legs slightly unsteady after such a heady bout of pleasure, and found his pocket watch in his waistcoat.

Then he swore quietly.

"George?"

"It's almost ten o'clock," he said ruefully, turning back to her and trying to promise himself he wasn't going to get back into bed with her. Lord knew what time it would be when he would leave it. If he ever left it. "I have to go."

"I suppose you do," Dodo said, sitting up in the bed and fixing him with a shy smile. "Despite how much I would like you to—"

"Don't even say it, or I may have to move in here permanently and never leave," George warned with a grin.

"You say that like… like it would be a bad thing."

His stomach lurched.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. A man was supposed to bed a woman, bed her again in the morning if he were lucky, then leave. That was how it was done.

At least, that was how it had always been done. What he had done—though never before with an unwed lady of his class.

The thought of staying here with Dodo, being here, being allowed to be here, be anywhere, with her in the eyes of the ton … never having to part with her, sharing her bed every night as well as her days…

George swallowed. This was madness. Madness!

"I need to get dressed," he said decisively.

It was not difficult to find his clothes. He had not dropped them far and Dodo's two rooms were not large. Pulling up his breeches and buttoning them, he tried not to notice how Dodo was examining him curiously.

He could hardly blame her. He'd had a remarkably good look at her before she had awoken.

"Men's clothes are so much simpler than ladies', aren't they?"

George snorted. "Much simpler."

It had been an absolute headache, trying to get her out of those stays.

"About a third simpler, I would say," mused Dodo from the bed, pulling the coverlet up to her waist and allowing her breasts to remain uncovered. "Perhaps three-quarters simpler for children."

George smiled to himself as he pulled on his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons. There was still so much about Dodo he did not understand. Her need to categorize everything, to reduce things to numbers…

She made his hopes so full, yet he still did not understand her. And that meant, his affections soaring, there was more of Dodo to discover. More of her to relish.

Every time he found out something new about her, he had a vague feeling he would fall even more in love with her. Which would be most inconvenient. He would do anything for her now: what on earth would he do if he loved her more deeply?

"You have to go, I suppose."

George looked up as he pulled his waistcoat on, every inch of him quivering at the pain of leaving her. Dodo's face was resigned, a light smile on her face but sadness in her eyes.

"I have to go," he said quietly, feeling wretched.

It was only Society's rules and expectations forcing him away. If Dodo did not have so much to lose, he would spend the rest of the day here, seeing just how much bliss one person could endure.

But as it was…

"We took a calculated risk yesterday," George said quietly, stepping over to the bed and sitting on the end. Far from Dodo's questing fingers.

"A calculated risk?"

"I don't think anyone will suspect that I stayed here last night," he continued softly. "If you tell your landlady your ‘cousin' left after dinner and I manage to sneak out the door without anyone noticing, we should be fine in that quarter. I did not tell anyone about my visit, and my servants will presume I stayed out all night."

Dodo raised an eyebrow. "Something you are wont to do?"

George hesitated.

Yes , was the answer to that question. Odd. He had never been ashamed of his antics before. What he did with consenting adults was between them—he had never felt any sense of discomfort or regret.

He did a little now. The thought that he had shared this with others, before her…

But no, it wasn't the same. As George's gaze took in the delightfully pink lips; the bright, shining eyes; and the pert nipples peeking out from the coverlet, he knew this was different.

Dodo and him, what they had shared… He had never professed his love for anyone before. He had never felt love for anyone before.

"Some risks are more calculated than others."

George's head jerked up from the sight of her breasts. "What do you mean?"

Dodo's cheeks were pink. "I mean that I… I finished my courses the day before yesterday. The likelihood of a child… I think it's very low."

He nodded. Was that true? He'd never heard that before, but he certainly had never had cause to discuss such matters.

There were other precautions he took—ones that he had not taken with Dodo. He had never been so overswept with desire for a woman before that he had not used a protective. That was something he would have to remedy for the next time.

Oh, God, the next time …

"And the risk of your reputation?" George said. "If I am spotted leaving here—"

"After all of these weeks of pretending I'm here with a chaperone, I am not sure my reputation is something I care much about losing any more," said Dodo, her expression affectionate. "Not to you."

Joy sparked across him, splashing into his lungs, pouring through him. This woman, she was—she was everything.

Everything .

He didn't want to leave. What was out there in the world he could not find here? Nothing else would satisfy. Nothing else would give him the security he had with Dodo.

"I don't want to leave," he said, his voice breaking.

And in a movement of bed linens, Dodo leaned forward and kissed him swiftly on the mouth. "I know," she said, pulling back with a wry expression. "And I want you to stay."

George groaned as his head dropped. "Damnit, woman, could you stop being so—"

"So what?" she said, her cheeks immediately flushing.

He saw his mistake immediately. "So wonderful."

Dodo's smile was shy. I must never forget that , George told himself sternly. Just because she was willing to give herself freely when it came to amorous congress, that did not mean Dodo's reticence, which was a core part of her character, had gone.

And it was part of the reason why he loved her. This woman, brilliant, clever, outstandingly loyal to her family, had no need to be admired by the world. She only wished to pass through it quietly and calmly.

Perhaps not the sort of woman he had presumed would attract him. But Dodo was so much more than a list of characteristics.

He groaned. "Why are you making this so difficult?"

"Me? I'm just sitting here!" protested Dodo, mythic beauty whose breasts shifted as she inhaled.

Gritting his teeth and knowing he would regret this the moment he did it, George rose to his feet. "I have to go."

"Stay."

"Dodo Loughty!" George half-laughed, half-scolded her as Dodo beamed. "You are doing this on purpose!"

"Of course I am," she said softly, eyes glittering. "I want to make it as difficult for you to leave me as possible."

The sense of loss hit him the instant George stepped out of Dodo's bedchamber, and it only grew worse as he stepped across the room that was part dining room, part drawing room. The table drew his eye, the place where he had first given Dodo a taste of ecstasy.

"Now do you believe me when I say that I enjoyed doing that? I could do that to you every day."

Resolve weakening, George forced himself out through the door and onto the landing. If he was swift—

"Did you like the pie? Mr. ‘Cousin'?"

"Wha—Oh, yes, very much, good day," he gabbled at the woman who had to be Mrs. Bryson.

Cheeks burning and wishing to goodness he had been able to resist the welcoming arms of Dodo that morning, George hastened down the stairs and out onto the street.

It was bustling. The people of Bath were out in full force sharing the last of the bright days, and it was thankfully easy to slip into the crowd and pretend he had come from his own home.

Even if, George knew, his hair was undressed and his clothes were rumpled. That was what happened when one's clothes were unceremoniously dropped onto the floor.

It did not take long to hail a hansom cab. The idea of walking home like this was not to be borne.

"Where to?" asked the squat driver.

"Charlotte Street," said George, clambering inside. There was no need to give away his identity, after all. Saying "Lindow House" was certain to draw attention.

"Right y'are." The driver clicked at the horses.

Only when George leaned back in the carriage did he take a breath, and think back to what—to whom—he had left behind.

And a thought fluttered into his mind. A good one. One he had to act on.

"Actually," George said, poking out his head toward the driver, "take me to Milsom Street. I have… I have some business there that must be taken care of immediately."