Read Eliza Lloyd for Free Online Page B

made a husband superfluous.
    She warmed to the sensation of want. Indulging, for her, was
a singular event. The next time she became intimate with a man, that man would
be her husband. And that fictional creature would have to be genuine quality.
    Disappointment should be cast aside now. No man could live
up to her expectations in bed and she already knew husbands were, well, men.
    Leaving London would be easier than leaving behind her
memories, but at least the next few days would be eventful.
    Three carriages! Why wasn’t it possible to move a household
with less fuss? At fifteen minutes past eleven, the entourage was ready to
depart.
    Vincent marched down the steps and strode past without
glancing her way, but he wore a neatly tied cravat. Mr. Allen stopped to
apologize. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. There is still a bit of a rebellion
brewing.”
    She watched as they climbed into the last carriage, assisted
by one of the footmen.
    “Mr. Darrow, would you ride with me for this leg of the
journey?” They had much to discuss regarding the future, mostly especially the
proper upbringing of a duke.
    He bowed then opened his hand to assist her into her
carriage. Just as she settled, Mr. Rhodes hurried down the steps. “Lady
Aversham, this just arrived for you.” He handed the note through the carriage
window.
    “Thank you. We will see you in a few days.”
    “Your Grace.”
    At last, they were on their way.
    Mr. Darrow sat quietly in the corner, contemplating some
weighty matter as he stared out the window. Lucy flipped the note over. It was
addressed to her in an elegant scrawl. She slipped her finger under the flap
and broke the simple seal.
    Some friend wishing her well, no doubt.
    Tess, I have thought of nothing but you.
    Her vision blurred as she was robbed of breath and feeling.
The inside of the carriage heated to an inferno.
    “Your Grace? Madam, are you well?”
    The carriage dimmed and Lucy couldn’t stop her body from
sliding downward as all thought disappeared into oblivion.
     
    When Lucy regained awareness, Mr. Darrow stared down at her,
his hand clutching one of hers. Not the one with the note crunched in her fist.
    “Your Grace, should I stop the carriage?”
    She took a deep breath. “Oh, no. I-I was overcome by a
sudden wave of heat.”
    He assisted her into an upright position.
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes. Quite. Thank you.” She pulled her hand away and placed
it to her chest. If her heart were racing the carriage horses, she would arrive
at the estate first, well ahead of the others. She giggled at the absurdity and
pressed her hand over her mouth.
    “Your Grace?”
    “Please, Mr. Darrow. I need to rest for a moment. I am sorry
I won’t be amiable company for the next few hours. I think the rush of season’s
end and all the excitement of leaving caught up with me at once.” A secret
missive from a one-time lover had nothing to do with it.
    “Of course.”
    The corner of the carriage was not far enough away. To
reread the note now might cause further histrionics, which she would not be
able to explain to anyone’s satisfaction. They were barely to Hyde Park corner.
She was not going back, not after receiving such a shocking missive.
    He knew her. He knew her? Where she lived. Her
name.
    Madame Dupuis had assured her, repeatedly, of the brothel’s
reputation. All would remain private.
    John had acted on his own then.
    John.
    No thoughts provided a reasonable explanation or a rational
response. Hiding in the country was no solution, not that she was hiding. No,
this trip had been planned. So why did she feel as if she were now running for
her life?
    It was the fact she was still taking quick shallow breaths
as if a bear were chasing her. One with a very large phallus.
    What a disaster. Her first illicit affair and she was
caught. How would she endure the humiliation when it was made known? Was that
John’s intent? Bribery? The note was still crushed in her hand. Had she read it
all before