Her hands tightened in her lap, recalling the domestic scene. What if the groom or the coachman recognized her? Could Derrick’s servants be trusted? Her life could be ruined. Had she turned her back on her home? On her family?
Derrick made no further comment as the carriage threaded its way through the London streets. The traffic was light at this hour, and they arrived in what seemed like minutes. She counted each one with her anxious heartbeat. They stepped down in front of an impressive five-storied townhouse, its fa?ade decorated with towering Iconic columns. A gas lamp in the street shone on his face. He was smiling. Reassured, she allowed him to propel her through the glossy black doors onto the marble floor of the entry, dimly lit by gas sconces. An unlit crystal chandelier hung high above them, and there were no servants to be seen.
Derrick removed her cloak and, clasping her hand in his big warm one, drew her to the marble staircase, which swept up to the shadowy floors above. No footman or butler appeared as they entered a library, the walls lined with shelves of leather tomes and the soft carpet patterned in cream and brown. Lamps scattered about on the highly polished furniture cast a soft glow over the lofty room. A pair of leather armchairs faced the fireplace, where a small fire burned. Above the mantel a portrait of a dark-haired man, dressed in the fashion of twenty years ago, hung.
“My father,” Derrick said flatly.
Sensing he didn’t wish to talk of his father, she moved to a table stacked with books and studied the spines: Shakespeare, Milton, Keats, Rudyard Kipling. “You read widely.” She grew irritated with herself. No matter how she tried, her voice still shook and gave away her nervousness.
A smile tugged at his lips. “You’ll note some are poetry. Please sit down, Bella.” He strode to the sideboard. “Sherry?”
She nodded gratefully. She certainly needed it.
He poured brandy for himself from a crystal decanter and a glass of sherry for her. Handing the glass to her, he took the chair close to hers. He leaned back, crossing an ankle over his other his knee.
“I do believe I need this,” she admitted. She took a sip of the smooth wine, an excellent vintage. She’d expected nothing less. The alcohol warmed its way down her throat to light a fire in her empty stomach. She’d been too jittery to eat dinner.
“We can spend the time any way you wish,” he said, his eyes deep and unfathomable in the shadowy room. “Whether I take you to bed or not will have the desired effect. Tomorrow, I’ll advise Lord Maudling of our tête-à-tête.”
Dismayed, she stared at him. “Lord Maudling may not believe it. He might still wish to marry me,” she continued, anxious that he might have changed his mind. “To be convincing, I need to know in my heart that it’s the truth.”
Derrick scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m only flesh and blood, Bella!”
She threw down the last of the sherry. Ignoring the burn, she rose to her feet. Sensing that deep within him a small war was waging, she stood in front of him. “I would like you to be my first lover, Derrick. If you want me.” While she wasn’t entirely sure of his feelings, she was confident of their attraction, for the air crackled between them. It had been that way since the first night they met. Perhaps the prospect of bedding a virgin was unappealing. From what she’d heard, even married men visited brothels.
“I want you.” He sounded savage. I thought I made that clear.”
He banged his crystal tumbler down on the table, causing brandy to splash over the tabletop. Before she could speak, he’d pulled her onto his lap. Held tight by his strong arms, she was aware of every muscled and sinuous curve of his strong body beneath hers. She breathed in the already familiar smell of him, and his proximity had its usual effect, causing her breath to quicken and her heart to race. Warm breath feathered her nape while his hands worked at her hair, scattering pins. He coiled her tresses in his fingers and eased her head back to press his lips to her throat.
“You have me in thrall, Bella,” he murmured against her skin.
Her delight at his admission caused a flood of heat through her body. He cradled her face in his hands and brought his mouth down to hers. The hunger of his kisses made her heart beat harder. She sighed against his mouth, her hands finding the silky hair at his nape. When he nudged her lips apart, she shivered with pleasure at the caress of his tongue against hers.
Derrick broke the kiss. He rose with her in his arms and, hefting her closer against his hard chest, strode with her from the room. She buried her face against his shoulder, all decisions taken from her.
His elegantly furnished bedroom, decorated in shades of royal blue and cream, was masculine in style with heavy, dark furniture. Bella eyed the wide mahogany tester bed. She wanted to please him and wished she knew more. Her scant knowledge came from books she’d found in the lending library. He’d be accustomed to women who knew precisely how.
Her gaze flew to his, at the raw desire smoldering in his amber eyes, and her heart fluttered. She no longer cared what might happen tomorrow.
CHAPTER NINE