Chapter 18

“It’s caught on my corset,” Olivia said from beneath her dress. Thel lifted the fabric, but the damned dress was so light, it fluttered in the slight breeze coming from the open window and tangled further. Olivia struggled until the sheer fabric was draped over her bodice and head until she resembled a ghost. He tickled her sides, making her break into laughter. She bumped a rack of cue sticks on the wall and sent them clattering to the ground. Before she could trip over them, he pushed her into a chair and placed the items back in their places beside the billiards table.

The other actors had left them alone in what appeared to be a gaming room with a raised eyebrow and a wink, as if they knew what they wanted to do. Another whispered word to a footman and their costumes were delivered shortly after. He had already donned his, but Olivia was having more difficulty.

She struggled out of his grip and brutally yanked the fabric off. She tossed it at her feet, then made an exaggerated gasping sound as if she had just come up from beneath the water.

“I thought I would never escape,” she said.

Thel leaned back and took in the shape of her waist in the corset and drawers. “I could have stood to see you struggle a bit more.”

His skin was still dewy from the performance. He could not believe they had done it. The way Olivia had reclined on the stage had made his insides twist. She was so daring, a wild woman he wanted by his side. If only she would agree to be his wife.

She stuck out her tongue, then plucked strands of silk tulle that clung to the metal clasps of her corset, drooping down like strands of spider silk.

“I have a present for you,” she said.

“Oh?” he asked.

She touched her bodice. “You must unwrap it.”

He reached for her waist, sliding his hands up before unclasping her corset until it came free. Then he dropped to his knees and smoothed his palms along her stockinged shins. He drew her chemise up until it gathered at her waist. She tore it off and stood bare from the waist up.

His mouth went dry. She had threaded rings through her pierced nipples and attached a chain that lay between her breasts like an undulating snake.

His cock throbbed. The glinting silver metal on her soft skin was almost more than he could take.

She took his hand and laid it on top of the chain. “Tug ever so slightly.”

He did so, and she obligingly stepped forward, drawn by the pressure on her bosom.

He dipped his head and took a ring-clad nipple into his mouth. The metallic bite on his tongue was foreign, but not unpleasant, and her skin smelled of soap and roses. He slid his hands up her back, pressing her into him as she made soft, breathy noises.

“Remove them,” she whispered.

He took a ring in his teeth and fumbled with the clasp until it clicked open. She hissed as it left her flesh. He touched his lips to her nipple and ran the tip of his tongue along the hole that remained.

“The other one,” she said.

He repeated the procedure on her other nipple before depositing the chain and rings in his pocket. Then he captured her mouth.

Her hands quickly undid the buttons on his jacket, and then his shirt, and spread the fabric wide. Her fingers curled into his chest hair. He loved it when she did that and loved even more the feel of her nails running along his skin.

He lifted her by the waist and carried her to the chaise, then juggled her in his arms until she was curled against his chest, his erection pressed into her bottom.

He kept his hands on her waist as she freed his cock and groaned when she rubbed the entire length of him in her essence. She positioned him against her entrance and caught his lips in a kiss while sliding down his length in one long, languid movement, until she was seated fully. He was so aroused from their activities and watching her undress that he nearly spent himself in that moment.

Then she pressed her lips to his, squeezed herself around him, and he was lost.

He threw his head back as an orgasm rocked through him. “My God, woman, you will be the death of me.”

“There is much still to learn,” she said as she lifted herself off his lap. She turned her head around the room before stopping her gaze at his neckcloth.

He splayed his hand over his throat. “Absolutely not.” He reached into his jacket and removed a folded square of fabric. A handkerchief. She accepted it and gently cleaned the result of their exertions away.

Before he realized what she was doing, she had gently tied one of her garter ribbons into a bow around the base of his shaft.

“What is this?” he asked, amused. “It is a remarkable specimen, but a gift?”

“It will be our secret,” Olivia said. “Send me the chains when you wish me to wear them and wear my token in return.”

His body flushed with heat and as she slipped her chemise back on, the ribbon chafed. He adjusted himself, and she shot him a sultry look.

His cock twitched again. She knew what the ribbon was doing to him.

He wanted to bend her over right there and take her again. He stuck his hand into his pocket and let the chain run through his fingers. It would be a challenge not to send it to her immediately, but he preferred to draw out their pleasure through anticipation.

He removed the ribbon, warm from the heat of his body, and folded it into his pocket with the chain.

If he were to do as she bid, it would have to be at a ball where he was not expected to dance. Knowing what she was wearing beneath her gown would be too much of a distraction for him to take any other woman into his arms.

##

When Thel returned to the ballroom with Olivia on his arm, it was to find Constance in the refreshment room on the arm of a black-haired man wearing a star-studded cape and a crescent moon mask. He leaned close to Constance and whispered something in her ear that made her erupt into giggles and bump into the table, spilling lemonade onto the floor.

The night had barely begun, and his daughter was already drunk.

“Who is that man?” Olivia asked.

“Not Mr. Ringwell,” he said. “Where the hell did that boy get off to?”

He had trusted Mr. Ringwell to stay by Constance’s side. He would not have left them alone if he had suspected the boy had not been committed to his task.

Constance spotted them and clutched the arm of her companion. “F-Father. I was looking for you. This is—”

“Allow me,” the unknown man interrupted. He swished his cape and bowed. “John Dawson.”

The chatter of the surrounding crowd shushed to a dull hum threaded through with a high-pitched whine. So, this was the man who had crept into his daughter’s life and disrupted his plans for her future.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Olivia said tightly.

“Indeed.” A muscle in Mr. Dawson’s cheek pulsed. “I am surprised to see you here, Lady Allen, given what is being said about you.”

She clenched Thel’s arm. “I was never one to let rumors spoil my fun. We have arranged to attend several events in the coming days to ensure Constance is properly introduced to society.”

“Ah, but…” Dawson flicked his gaze to Constance, then to Thel, then back to Olivia. “Constance does not require introductions.”

The unsaid words if we are to marry hung between them like dust floating in the air, visible but unremarked upon. Thel imagined planting his fist into Dawson’s face. He would wrap his hands around the man’s neck until the smug smile vanished from his face.

“Perhaps you might advise me, Mr. Dawson,” Olivia said loudly. “Constance mentioned you are to inherit your father’s rail company. As it happens, I am looking to invest.”

The change in subject gave Thel enough time to recover himself, and in doing so, he realized why Olivia had stepped in.

Confidence radiated off Dawson in waves. He was not perturbed by the less-than-gracious reception.

Then it hit him. It was as Olivia had warned. If he disapproved overtly, Dawson would become the victim and elicit sympathy from Constance.

He had almost played into Dawson’s hands.

Thankfully, Dawson wasn’t looking so confident anymore. He frowned at Olivia. “I would not think it appropriate for a lady to engage in business matters.”

She waved her hand. “Where I choose to invest is of no concern to society.” She leaned forward. “I have significant funds I could dispense, given the right opportunity.”

Dawson’s eyes widened. “Indeed?”

That one small interaction told Thel everything he needed to know about Dawson’s relationship with money. This was not a man who was accustomed to wealth.

“Oh, Lady Allen!” Constance said. “John has agreed to wait until I am one-and-twenty to marry. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“How lovely,” Olivia said in a strangled voice.

Thel’s explosive response was stifled by Olivia stomping his foot. He tucked his hands behind his back and balled them into fists. Everything was happening too quickly. Constance had only attended half a dozen events, but she had already chosen her husband.

“‘Lovely’ is not precisely the word I would use,” he said.

Dawson leaned forward. “Do you disapprove, my lord? Your daughter and I are in love. Marriage is the natural consequence.”

Constance grinned. “Isn’t it wonderful, Father? I have found my true love.”

The sharp edges of the trap closed tightly around Thel’s heart. Everything Olivia had predicted was coming true. Constance clung to her inappropriate suitor tighter than a shipwreck survivor around a chunk of flotsam. The moment he made his displeasure known, he would lose her.

Dawson had won.

“I only meant that ‘lovely’ is not strong enough to express my delight,” Thel said, forcing the words out. “This is marvelous news. A spectacular turn of events.”

Dawson’s smile faltered. “Ah, yes, well.” He tugged at his collar then continued in a louder voice. “I must applaud your bravery, my lord. Few men would be comfortable associating with a woman who has such a”—he shot Olivia a triumphant look—“sordid past.”

The sudden change in tone and topic made Olivia’s jaw drop, but Thel was not similarly affected.

“Being a widow is not in the least scandalous,” Thel said. “Mr. Dawson, you must learn these things if you are to blend in with the ton .”

The thunderous look on Dawson’s face nearly undid him.

Olivia flicked open her fan and used it to hide what was visible of her face behind her mask.

“A widow, perhaps,” Dawson said scathingly. “But only because he died before she could petition for divorce.”

Olivia gasped and clutched Thel’s arm. “How did—how dare you!”

“Let us not forget that these accusations are mere gossip,” Thel said loudly. “No proof has been levied against Lady Allen.”

Dawson inclined his head. “Of course. I apologize for my outburst. I am only concerned about the welfare of your daughter. I would not want any improper rumors to become attached to her.”

Thel’s rude response was lost in the opening notes of the orchestra. He clenched his hands and stepped forward, but Olivia held him back.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked Dawson.

“My dear Lady Allen.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “I’m giving you exactly what you deserve.” Then he swept Constance into his arms and merged into the flow of dancers.