Chapter Ten

T he next morning, Edmund woke with a startle. He was naked under a sheet in a shabby-looking attic. Then he remembered and looked down at the smooth, taut bottom against him. He tightened his embrace. Lola. His Lola.

Oh, how badly he wished this to be true, but he'd taken more than he should have. She'd never be his. Their bargain had been for her company, not her body, but in the process, he'd lost his heart.

He rolled her carefully off his arm, placed a tender kiss on her forehead, and rose.

His eyes trailed over the humble abode, and truth replaced the haze of last night's passion. He'd fallen for her. What he'd done to her was inexcusable, but it felt as though he'd unleashed a torment from his soul and tamed the demons of insomnia. He hadn't merely slept last night, but he'd rested.

He put on his still-damp breeches and looked out the window onto her rooftop garden. The leaves, now a deeper, lusher shade of green, glistened with droplets of rain, reflecting the early sun rays in a million tiny prisms. Birds sang their melodious tunes, their chirps amplified by the stillness, filling the air with joyful hope, while every blade of grass, every petal, seemed to pulse with new life under the gentle caress of the summer breeze. Gone was the scorching heat and weight of August.

Edmund felt invigorated. She'd done that. She'd given him rest, but she'd brought him back to life.

The covers rustled. "It's Sunday," she said sleepily.

Edmund turned and looked at her swollen lips. A little smear of blood on the covers confirmed that he'd truly taken more than he ought, and he didn't know what to give her in return to make up for his transgressions.

"Good morning."

She crawled toward him, holding the covers against her breasts to hide them. How adorable that she was embarrassed even though he'd… well, it was a new morning.

"Isn't the race today?" she asked.

Edmund froze. "What time is it?"

She squinted and counted as the church bells rang somewhere in the distance. "Ten."

"We have to be there in an hour!" He hurried into his clothes, as did she, and they darted to her phaeton.

Back on Cockspur Street, Edmund quickly shaved with his valet's apt assistance and changed into his riding attire, a bottle green coat, and striped breeches. By ten-thirty, he sat at the breakfast table, unable to eat. One by one, he stacked the juice glasses.

"What's with you this week?" Brewster said when he waltzed in. "We're late for the race."

"I don't care about the race," Edmund said to the glasses, ignoring his solicitor's nervous pacing.

"Marlowe does. He's wagered his lands on a single horse. If he loses the land to someone else, we don't have any leverage for the restoration plan. No land from Marlowe, no plan, no money."

"Why exactly do we need money if we don't build anything?" Edmund stacked a fourth glass on the tower he'd built on the table. "You know, when I was little, I loved building with rocks, twigs, and anything else I could find. But now, I don't have anything to show for my work."

"You have money to show for it."

Edmund gave him a shrewd glare, fully aware that Brewster would get twenty percent of whatever he derived from Marlowe's estate. "First, I didn't agree to your scheme. Second, I'd have no less if the plan failed. So why does it matter so much?"

"Because, Edmund, you need to get bigger and better. Or else stop."

And stop Edmund did when Bernie, the butler, announced Lola, a vision in a gown of fine sprigged muslin over a dress of beige-brown silk with a darker beige sash sprinkled with white dots. Her hair was fashionably dressed in a loose, twisted braid under the white straw bonnet with a ribbon that matched the sash. She wore white kid gloves and cream-colored slippers and truly looked like… Edmund tried to find words, but all he could do was respond to his body, recognizing the torrent of passion raging in his veins from the previous night.

As if pulled by magnetic force, he found her side, took her hand, and twirled her in a circle.

"Thank you for this beautiful gown." She beamed at him and his heart melted.

"Thank you for gracing me with your beauty." He bowed deeply and kissed her knuckles, then trailed a path of kisses upward to her elbow, reveling when she blushed and chuckled. He did that to her. Oh, and how much more he longed to do.

Brewster cleared his throat. "Time to go."

Edmund deflated. He made a mental note to hire another solicitor. Preferably, one with no interest in his private life.