A Royal Kiss and Tell

She didn’t have a good answer for him. A fever? If it was a fever, it was a new sort of fever, one that struck without warning and consumed her quickly.

He held up his hand, his palm facing her, as if he thought she would throw herself at him again. His eyes were dark, his lips slightly parted. He looked shocked. But he also looked dangerously aroused. “Never do that again,” he said in a low voice.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she said, and wheeled about, fleeing for the door. She leaped into the hall and nearly collided with Beck on his way back in.

“Caro?”

She ignored her brother, picked up her skirts and fled to her rooms with that kiss burning on her lips.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Invitations to Lord Pennybacker’s ball will be delivered by the end of the month. Alas, there will surely be those disappointed by the absence of an invitation in their post, as the number of persons desiring to attend has grown steadily through the month. Lady Pennybacker has said the ball will be limited to two hundred souls.

The Duke and Duchess of Norfolk have returned to their family seat as the duchess enters her period of confinement. The couple has enjoyed the calls of many notable personages, including Lord Hawke and his sister, who is much acclaimed for her beauty. So acclaimed, it seems, that a gentleman who is expected to formally enter an engagement of princely proportions in a matter of weeks invited himself along.

It is discovered by many that Lady Caroline Hawke’s talents have extended to dressmaking. Ladies in Mayfair are suddenly clambering to have an evening dress designed and fashioned by our dear friend. She has a unique talent for drawing on the English-and Alucian-style gowns and creating coveted garments. She is taking limited requests for the winter season.

—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and

Domesticity for Ladies

AFTER A FULL two days of torment, Leo couldn’t shake that kiss.

He was strolling alongside Beck as they toured the stable blocks, and while Beck maintained a stream of commentary about the accommodations for his Alucian racehorse, Leo kept thinking about his outrageous, remarkable sister.

That kiss appeared in his thoughts at the oddest times. When he was alone. In the middle of the night. At breakfast, at lunch, at tea with friends.

He was shocked she’d done it, shocked that she’d so brazenly presumed that she could. And then again, he wasn’t surprised at all. He was appalled by her insolence but also admired her pluck. He was angry that she’d taken the liberty but also damn well excited by it.

He was beginning to believe that he’d never met a more perplexing, confounding, beautiful woman in his life. He seemed to be feeling every emotion—good, bad or indifferent—that a man could feel about a woman.

He was also feeling a libidinous desire that was not responding to his usual attempts to keep it at bay. He wanted to do that kiss again. Only this time, he’d do the kissing, thank you.

He had to force himself to think of something else. He turned his attention again to the women he was trying to save. He had intended to speak to his old friend Norfolk about Jacleen at the supper party, but then the supper had been indefinitely postponed. If that bloody gazette was to be believed, it was because of him. It must be true, because more than one gentleman had laughingly congratulated him for his indiscreet call to Mrs. Mansfield’s “house.”

“Never knew a bloke who could draw so much attention to his activities,” said a man he knew only as Hornsby with a guffaw.

Mr. Frame, who had vigorously cautioned Leo about the need for discretion and a moral compass before leading him to Mrs. Mansfield’s house of ill repute, had a fat mouth.