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Chapter Nineteen

Jerome woke with his wife in his arms and recalled the brutal, wonderful passion of the night before. He loved this little woman with her indomitable spirit and stubborn will—fiercely. It was that strength he had always admired in her, even when it led her into folly, which it frequently did.

He had voiced his fear that Lannister had overstepped the boundaries with her, seduced her perhaps. Lannister was a charming man and experienced with women. He was known for seducing and ruining innocents. It was what got him banned from Almack’s. Ava’s reaction reassured him that his fears were exaggerated. But she hadn’t denied it utterly, which made him wonder if there was some gray in there somewhere. Kisses? A bit more, perhaps? He sighed and pressed his lips to her hair.

Whatever was between them, he couldn’t blame her for it. It was Lannister he wanted to murder, for daring to touch her at all. But he wouldn’t tolerate this so-called friendship between them any longer. If she truly loved him, she would see how impossible it was that she continue with it. After last night’s shared passion, he had little doubt of her devotion to him. Ava loved him, wanted him, as much as he loved and wanted her.

She stirred in his arms and blinked up at him, a smile breaking over her face that confirmed his thoughts.

“Good morning, my darling wife,” he said with an answering smile, and kissed her tenderly.

She responded and murmured, “Morning, my dearest husband.” She grinned wider, her eyes opening fully. “You know, that still gives me a thrill. I wanted to be your wife for so long. I sometimes wonder if I’m dreaming and it never really happened.”

“It happened,” he said, kissing her again. “But I know what you mean. I sometimes feel the same way. I thought I could live with the pain of giving you up, because it was the right thing for you.”

“But it wasn’t! That was why I couldn’t let you do it!” she said sitting up indignantly. “How could you think I would be happy without you?”

“I am glad in retrospect that you took steps to convince me otherwise, but I do wish such drastic action had not been necessary. I blame myself for that.”

She subsided onto his chest with a smile and cupped his face, kissing him. “Well, I shall never regret doing it. Every step I took in that dreadful storm was worth it.”

He shuddered, recalling her arriving soaked to the skin, white as a sheet, and fainting in his arms. “I never want you to give me a fright like that again. I thought for a moment you were dead when you collapsed on me.”

“I do wish Rob hadn’t found us quite so soon, and you hadn’t been so foully drunk,” she said, with a sloe-eyed smile, that stiffened his cock with more than its usual morning wood.

“Well, I am glad,” he said, giving in to kissing her again. “It was bad enough as it was, facing him. It would have been worse if I’d lost control of myself and taken you then and there, as I might well have done if I hadn’t been so stinking drunk. I’m embarrassed you saw me like that.”

“I didn’t care. You were rather funny, actually.” She giggled. “Very unlike your usual impeccably dressed and correct self. You couldn’t even walk straight.” She laughed at the memory, and he flushed faintly. He should be able to laugh at himself, but instead he felt embarrassed and ashamed. He swallowed, vowing she would never see him like that again.

He flung back the bedclothes and rose. “We should get dressed and have breakfast. I have an appointment at Gentleman Jackson’s at ten.”

He bent to pick up his discarded jacket and examined the tear in the lining. Leyton, his excellent valet, would be shocked. He’d lost the buttons off his waistcoat too, he realized, picking up that article and then bending to retrieve the scattered buttons. He found five, but the sixth eluded him. He took them through to his dressing room and rang for Leyton.

Leyton was a young man in his mid-twenties, very young for a valet, especially valet to a man of the Marquess of Ravenshaw’s standing as an undoubted leader of fashion and taste. But he was levelheaded and devoted to Jerome and a master with boot polish.

An hour later, dressed with his usual care, Jerome joined his wife for breakfast in the parlor.

She was dressed in a lovely blue muslin and perusing the paper when he came in.

“My apologies for keeping you waiting,” he said, bending to kiss her cheek.

She looked up at him impishly. “It was worth it. You look superb!”

“And you look enchanting. That blue becomes you,” he said sedately. All this for the benefit of the servants. But his eyes should convey what he really thought: that she was good enough to eat.

With breakfast served, he dismissed the servants in order to enjoy the time alone with his wife. “What do you have planned for the day?” he asked, cutting into the ham on his plate.

Buttering toast, she said, “Shopping with Letty and Sophie. And then some morning calls in the afternoon, followed by a walk in Hyde Park at five with Sarah and Deborah. You could join us if you like.”

He nodded and smiled, “Thank you, I should.” He added, “Will you come riding with me tomorrow morning?”

“I would love to,” she said with a warm smile and a touch of her hand across the table. A passion for riding was something they shared.

They parted after breakfast with a tender kiss and Jerome set off for his bout of boxing at Gentleman Jackson’s, followed by a session with foils at Angelo’s and pistol practice at Manton’s. He didn’t maintain his competence at sports without practice, despite his natural talents, and his physical fitness was as important to him as his undoubted prowess at every sport he participated in.

Coming out of Manton’s, he ran into Deo who asked him if he would help him find a new horse. The man was so big that he needed a horse that could handle his weight. So the two of them went off to Tattersalls on Hyde Park Corner to find a suitable horse for him.

“Glad you found your lady at last, Jerome,” remarked Deo, patting the fetlocks of the sixteen-hand brute before him.