Page 22 of Vying for a Viscount
He chuckled, put his arm across the back of the settee, and said, “Lean back and relax. I won’t ravish you in public, but I would like to hold you.”
She shimmied back until she was up against the back of the settee. Greyson immediately rested his arm on her shoulders, and she sighed, leaning toward him.
“See? That didn’t hurt. And it feels nice,” he said with a touch of amusement. “As for other Club Knight members knowing about Lord and Lady Hammond, there are very few who do.”
“You didn’t answer my question about how you know.”
“Hmmm. I may have recently joined, but I’ve been friends with Knight for some time. Before he opened these doors, he sought advice from several of his closest confidants.”
“I see.” She didn’t really understand, since this was the first timeGreyson had mentioned a friendship with Knight, or rather, the Duke of Tremont. How did they know one another? Had Greyson served in the Navy, as Knight had? She didn’t believe so.
Her eyes traveled the room. Almost everyone was focused on their cards. Yes, perhaps the ladies and gentlemen were dressed more casually than usual for a night out in London, but overall, she wasn’t as shocked and scandalized as she thought she would be.
“Do you have any thoughts or questions?”
Greyson’s query drew her gaze back to him. “Why all the secrecy?” she asked.
Instead of answering, his hand caressed her bare shoulder as her short sleeve slid down, exposing her skin with a little help from him. Now that was something that would never happen in a proper London ballroom. The warmth of his fingertip swirling in circles on her skin sent heat pooling between her thighs. Goosebumps rose on her arms, and she rested her head on his shoulder. The action felt natural, even though others were around, and it would be considered scandalous anywhere else. It would make headlines in the gossip rags.
“Does this feel good?” he murmured, resting his head against the top of hers.
“Yes,” she said, exhaling.
“Most of what happens during card playing is mild. The masquerade ball is another matter. People dress most scandalously, more so than at any other masquerade ball I’ve attended. Of course, this is all hearsay, as I’ve yet to attend one here. And have you forgotten about the third floor?”
The heat consuming her cheeks intensified. She had forgotten. Greyson explained there were rooms for couples seeking privacy. Did that mean...?
“From what I’ve been told, couples can go up together for a private engagement. Single men and women can wait outside a vacant room, hoping someone will join them. One does not go up thereunless they are prepared for a very intimate encounter.”
“Oh my,” she whispered, closing her eyes and picturing herself and Greyson in one of those rooms as he ravished her. She fought the urge to rub her thighs together to ease her discomfort.
“Have I shocked you?” His voice was soft and seductive as his fingertips traced her collarbone, making her swallow back a moan.
“N-n-not at all.” Oh dear, what a conundrum. A battle was forming between her body and her mind. She wanted nothing more than to go to the third floor and have Greyson’s hands all over her, and hers all over him. Did she dare? “Can you take me up there?” Had those breathy words really come out of her?
“Letitia, I promised you and myself that we wouldn’t go there tonight.”
“When is the next masquerade ball?”
“Next Tuesday.”
“Will Knight allow me to attend?”
“If you wish, you can apply for a membership. I will cover the cost.”
“I would like that. When you were here before, did you go up there?” Her stomach sank with dread as she waited for his answer.
“I’ve yet to visit the third floor.” Her body eased, knowing he spoke the truth.
Greyson, to her regret, righted her sleeve. He removed his arm from around her and stood, holding out her hand. “Shall we go?”
She really didn’t want to leave, but she supposed it was for the best. How embarrassing. She had practically asked him to bed her. No. Not practically. Shehadasked him. “Yes.” She took his hand, stood, and they strolled out of the ballroom. They collected their things from the doorman and went out into the cool night air, which did wonders in extinguishing the fire burning inside her.
They rode in silence to Rutherford Manor, and she wondered what he was thinking. Was he shocked that she had asked to go to the thirdfloor? She was a widow and well-versed in the carnal acts between couples. She and Graham enjoyed their time in the bedroom. Since his death, she missed the connection she had felt when wrapped in his arms, the feeling of being cherished and made love to until her body reached the pleasure of release.
“You’re quiet,” Greyson’s soft voice echoed inside the small coach.
“I was thinking you must be shocked by my suggestion that we visit the third floor,” she said, exasperated and mortified, fighting the urge to cover her face with her hands and hide. “I can hardly believe it myself. Forgive me if I made you uncomfortable.”
