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teeth. A shiver went through her and she didn’t protest when he raised her skirts higher. The scorching sweep of his hand along her outer thigh alarmed her, but her uncertainty turned to anticipation when he brushed his fingertips along the bare skin of her inner thigh, under the edge of her pantaloons.
    “Don’t worry,” he said, his breath warm against her throat.
    She knew she should put a stop to this. What if someone came looking for them? It seemed, however, that she was powerless under his touch.
    He reached the slit of her undergarment and she stiffened with embarrassment when his fingers found her damp curls. She buried her head against his shoulder and let out a gasp when he slid one finger inside her.
    “Richard,” she said, his name a moan. He froze and she lifted her head to meet his gaze. There was a silent question in his eyes. She knew that he would stop if she asked him to, but she also knew that was the last thing she wanted. “Don’t stop.”
    She dragged his head down so that she could kiss him, and this time it was his turn to groan. He started to move again, sliding a finger in and out of her while using his thumb to stroke her in a place that was almost unbearably tender. It wasn’t long before she had to tear her mouth from his. She was finding it almost impossible to drag enough air into her lungs. Afraid she was about to collapse, she grasped his shoulders, her head turned to the side, as he whispered encouragements into her ear.
    “That’s it, Sophie. Let go… Come for me.”
    And she did. She pressed her mouth against the fine wool of his topcoat to stifle her moans as glorious tremors racked her body.
    He removed his hand and let her dress fall into place before taking her mouth again in a long, languorous kiss.
    When he drew back to look down at her, his eyes were a darker, almost navy blue. They held a hint of danger and the promise of future delights.
    “We should return. But, first, tell me you’ll meet me later?”
    She realised then that he’d brought her more pleasure than she could have imagined possible, but that his own desire had remained unfulfilled. It was all too much and she was more than a little unsure of what she should do.
    “I’m not sure,” she said when she finally spoke, choosing to be truthful.
    “Sophie, you know what’s happening here, right?”
    She nodded. “I need a little time to adjust to the idea that instead of becoming a wife soon, I will be…” She took a deep breath before continuing. “Well, we both know you will not be offering me marriage.”
    She closed her eyes briefly as the full implications of her situation struck her. So much for her promise to Aunt Jane to behave with decorum at all times. She could tell Richard wanted to press his point, but was thankful when he refrained. Instead, he led her from the storage room in silence and they made their way back to his theatre box.
     

Chapter Four
     
     
     
    Richard desperately needed a drink and some time alone. He’d planned to have dinner with his cousin and her husband after the play, but instead he made his excuses and returned home. Once there, he closeted himself in the study, where he poured himself a brandy and sank into an armchair. He tossed back the contents of the glass and stared into the fireplace.
    Sophie Crandle was driving him insane. He was on edge and his very skin felt too tight. It was clear to both of them that she wanted him or she wouldn’t have allowed him the liberties he’d taken earlier that evening. Why, then, did she insist on delaying the inevitable? If she were any other woman he’d suspect her of playing games, but somehow he knew that wasn’t what Sophie was doing.
    He remembered her parting comment about how he would be responsible for keeping her from an honourable marriage and felt an uncharacteristic twinge of guilt before dismissing the accusation from his mind. A marriage of convenience to his brother would have killed the delightful