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life feeling cheated.
    The houses of South Audley Street now filtered into his senses as the horses slowed. He had been a terrible host, leaving Sarah to look out the carriage while her father had sporadic little coughing fits that he tried in vain to stifle.
    “ Freckles!” He heard the shout just as he stood and saw Eversley approaching the carriage.
    “ Piggie,” she cried in delight.
    “ Would you like some help into the house? Kirkbourne invited us.” He waved a hand towards Lady Rebecca, Eversley’s sister, and the Earl and Countess of Chapelbrooke, Eversley’s parents.
    “ That would be very much appreciated,” she said as he opened the door and reached in to lift her out. Nobody seemed to notice her crutches as the earl descended from the carriage with the help of Bellamy. Grumbling to himself, Nate jumped down from the carriage onto the road and was nearly mown down by a horse drawing a hackney.
    “ Watch it, guv’nor,” shouted the driver, managing to swerve the horse and the carriage slightly without incident.
    “ I do apologise,” he called.
    “ Bleedin’ toffs,” he heard, just before the man made it out of earshot.
    He hurried onto the pavement in time to see Eversley carrying Sarah into his house. It may be all very chaste, but he was not happy that his next door neighbour was manhandling his wife-to-be. Once inside, the viscount stopped and turned to Nate. Sarah was laughing at something the man had said.
    “ You can put me down now,” she said pointedly at the younger man, who blushed and placed her on her feet, his hands around her waist until she had hold of the crutches Nate held out to her. “Thank you,” she said, first to Eversley and then to Nate. He nodded stiffly, not liking that his neighbour could make his betrothed laugh and he seemed just to annoy her.
    The butler hurried over and led Eversley up to the drawing room as Sarah began to undo the buttons of her smart pink pelisse.
    “ Would you like me to help, or get a maid?” he asked quickly as her crutch became tangled in the fabric.
    “ I just…” she started, her frustrated grunt turning into a cry of annoyance as the crutch clattered onto the black and white tiled floor.
    “ It is all right.” His hands were around her waist, steadying her, pulling her against him for balance as she removed one arm from the garment. As hand and fabric parted company, her arm flew up, whacking him in the cheek.
    “ Oh, Your Grace!” she cried. “I am so sorry.”
    The slap stung for a moment but it was not particularly sore. He had suffered much worse at Jackson’s Boxing Saloon.
    “Shh! It is fine,” he said, leaning into her hand as she caressed the part of his cheek she had struck. She was flush against him, her belly rubbing against his hip, his knee brushing her skirts—so close he could part her legs with his, rub his thigh against…
    “ Nathaniel?”
    He shook his head. Could she feel his arousal? He was most certainly aware of it. At least he was not fully aroused yet but to him, the hardening was evident. He moved away a few inches as she placed her free hand on his shoulder while his remained around her waist.
    He looked down at her—cheeks pink, eyes sparkling and breasts moving up and down with her slightly ragged breaths. No wonder she was having an effect on him. She was stunning. And she found him attractive. That was something, at least.
    “ Would you take my crutch, please?” she asked. He took it with his free hand, and her pelisse began to slide off her shoulders. He caught it in the same hand which held the crutch, pulling her back against him. She was so warm, so pliant, so feminine. She raised her head, lips parted slightly.
    “ Is it wrong that I want to kiss you, Freckles?”
    “ Wrong is such a harsh word. Perhaps inappropriate, given the location and the number of people in your drawing room.”
    “ You are attractive,” he said. Attractive? What kind of a word was that to compliment a lady?