Page 80 of The Lyon's Pretty Pugilist

Her breath hitched as she met his pressure. Even amongst the excited partygoers, Nicolas knew Josie’s breathing shallowed. Instinctually, his lungs matched hers as they breathed together as one. Her slippered foot tapped his toe. Heat shot from his foot to his pelvis.

Josie might resemble an elegant princess, but he knew her well enough to know that her honeyed cavern was drenched and pulsing for him. His cock twitched so damn hard that he almost moaned. You could dress a man up, but you could not hide his inner scoundrel. Thankfully, the carriage was so lively that, more than likely, no one took notice of the pandemonium in his trousers.

Bridget leaned across the seat and tapped him on his knee. “Brother?”

He cleared his throat. “What?”

“Are you excited for the evening?” She winked as if they were sharing some secret.

Why, oh why, had she walked in on him and Josie? She’d embarrass him every chance she got.

“For someone who despises society events, you seem quite excited,” he said.

“Now that Isabelle and I are friends with Lady Siddons and Lady Davenport, we are quite excited. Aren’t we, Isabelle?”

“Exceedingly so,” Isabelle said. “I do believe this shall be the perfect event to recruit members for our female-only club.”

“Try not to start any fisticuffs or scandals.” Nicolas had enough to worry about tonight without Bridget and Isabelle’s machinations. And the dashed viscount would be no help since he’d be in some dark corner up some women’s skirts. Of course, Nicolas would do anything to be in a private alcove exploring Josie’s curves.

“Humph.” Bridget feigned indignance by sticking her pert little nose in the air.

“We are here,” Davenport announced.

Josie grabbed Nicolas’s hand. “I love you,” she whispered.

He couldn’t help himself. With his free hand, he cradled her chin and stared into her eyes. “I love you, too, Josephine Martin.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers while their audience clapped.

So much for keeping their relationship a secret. However, it was becoming apparent that everyone in that carriage already knew they’d fallen madly and deeply in love.

Chapter Thirty-One

Josie’s lessons hadnot prepared her for the veritable color explosion. She had little knowledge of fancy flowers, but she suspected that the delicate petals meant these particular blooms were exotic. It must have taken dozens of gardeners to grow the various shades of pink, purple, white, and yellow blossoms. Even more seamstresses had to have been employed to design and sew all of the pastel gowns.

Perhaps emerald had been an unfashionable choice since the other women wore spring colors, and yet, Josie loved her gown. The modiste had designed it for her, and Nicolas had given up his prized possession to purchase it. The delight on his face when she descended the stairs would forever be imprinted in her mind.

The second she’d seen him peering up at her, his cravat the same bright shade of blue as his eyes, her belly had turned somersaults. It was still tumbling uncontrollably since he stood beside her, the tinkling sounds of the orchestra floating around them.

Agatha leaned close to whisper in Josie’s ear. “Close your mouth, dear, lest you slobber on your lovely attire.”

Josie clamped her lips together.

Agatha inclined her chin toward Lady Siddons who stood acrossthe room talking with a group of ladies. “I will let Helena know we are here so that she can make introductions.” Agatha gracefully glided away.

“I’m thirsty.” Bridget clasped Isabelle’s hand. “Let us get some ratafia and mayhap some cakes. We shall try not to upturn any tables today.” She giggled.

Nicolas winced.

Elbows linked, the two women left Josie and Nicolas alone in a room of hundreds. Looking quite sheepish, Jonathon had disappeared seconds after the herald announced their arrival.

Nicolas stepped closer, and Josie’s belly flipped faster. “Remember, get Tristan to walk you to the study. I shall be there waiting for you.”

As was the case at a mill, once she showed up, she was furiously ready. Josie nodded.

“Whatever you do, do not let him take you anywhere else. He is my friend, but the man is a rogue of the worst sort.”

Josie had no intention of being alone with the duke because if he made an unwelcome advance, she’d have to knock out his teeth. Ironically, that might be an effective method of convincing him she was a worthy pugilist.

“Lydia and her parents are here,” Nicolas said. “I can see them over the crowd.”