Page 77 of A Much Maligned Miss

She laughed. “Maybe I should stroke your belly too.” It was perhaps just as well she could not see the expression on his face. “Did you see Reg belowstairs?” she asked before raising the cup to her lips again.

“I did not.” He swept aside her hair and kissed the side of her neck. “Stop trying to make me jealous.” She gave another gurgle of laughter. “Only Jeb was down there, and he was looking decidedly seedy,” Gervaise told her.

“Did he? Well, good! Did I tell you that Jeb hands all his prizefighting money over to his mother and sisters for their upkeep?”

“You did not, but I am not at all surprised to hear it. He is the only son of their family after all.”

“Poor Effie has had precious little consideration as his partner in life, despite the fact she has always shifted to help keep a roof over their heads.”

“He intimated as much,” he admitted.

“Did he?” She half turned her head to judge the veracity of his statement but could not get a good look at him, sat as he was behind her.

“Yes, he said you could not find a truer friend than Effie when you are in a bind.”

She made a huffing sound that he really should not find so enticing, however much it made her cotton-encased bosom rise and fall. He wondered what she would do if he cupped her breasts now. “It’s a pity he did not appreciate that before he lost her!” she pronounced sternly.

“This is true,” he breathed against her ear.

“I mean to be a good friend to her, Gervaise.”

“I gathered as much.”

“You do not mind?” A hint of uncertainty entered her voice.

“Not at all. Why should I?” He rested his palms against her sides and started rubbing them up and down. “Are your sides still sore?” he asked in a low, intimate voice.

“My sides?”

“From holding your pose yesterday.”

“Oh, that. No, not at all.”

“It’s a good thing you’re so supple.” His touch became more of a caress.

She sighed, resting the back of her head against his chest. “You’re so nice to me,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “Even Vi says so, and she can be quite a harsh judge of character.”

“Is that so?”

“She and Effie were most taken with all my new jewelry.”

“Mere trinkets,” Gervaise replied flippantly. “I will replace them with better when you agree to marry me.”

She spluttered. “Gervaise…” she said reproachfully.

“You’re going to, you know.”

“I’m not!” she said, but even he could hear the lack of conviction. He smiled against her hair. “I can’t!” she added rather more firmly.

“We shall see.” There was a ring of quiet confidence in his voice.

“You’re impossible!”

“I know,” he whispered, “but you like me all the same.”

She was quiet for a moment, refusing to take his cue. “I followed your advice, you know.”

He drew back from nuzzling her hair with some reluctance, wondering what soap she used. Had he bought it for her? It smelled like honey and jasmine. A heady combination. “What advice?” he asked belatedly.