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with dawning recognition as her fingers busied with his flap. He was almost sure he recognized the way her hair covered her face as she bent forward, the way her clever hands dealt with his clothes with a swiftness that astounded him, before they lifted his penis from its confines with a sureness that amazed him. But no! He would never have forgotten his affianced doing anything as intimate as this. She had never been alone with him, never spoken more than two words to him. He must be mistaken. And then as her fingers surrounded and stretched him, all coherent thought fled. Instead, he surrendered to sensation. He was aware of the way her hands surrounded his flesh and fondled and stroked him. Her movements were both soft and hard, and up and down. He was lost in an exploration of bliss too deep to return any favors. Mesmerized by the way she moved and caressed him to do anything other than experience those touches.
    “Towel,” he croaked. “Now. I’m ahh, oh God, Caroline. Please.”
    “Oh, I do please,” she replied, as she glanced around in haste. “No towel, oh hell.” She grabbed his cravat from where he had thrown it earlier, having forgotten he had dismissed his valet. “Here my love, spill here.” One final, all-embracing wrap of her hand and he did as she had bidden him. His ejaculation jerked his whole body. His skin tingled, and his skin heated. The sensation shook him to the core. He cried out, in awe of what he had experienced. Nothing had affected him in so intense a manner, ever before.
    “Oh God, Caroline,” he groaned. “You, er, I. Er, no, er, shall I, we?” Charlie lapsed into incoherent mumbles. He licked his lips to try and relieve the dryness of his mouth. His tongue felt too big for the space, and his body still shook with the power of his climax.
    She laughed. “I suggest you wait and get your power of speech back before attempting to do anything. I fear your cravat is quite spoiled, my lord. Shall I burn it?”
    He nodded, still unsure if he would be able to string two words together. He watched as she rose and walked none too steadily toward the fire and threw the wet and soiled garment on to the flames. “Let’s hope your valet doesn’t count them,” she remarked as she sat at his feet again and watched him try, without much success, to calm himself. “Thank you, Charlie.”
    He stared at her as he tried to get coherent thoughts together and understand what she was saying. “Eh? Why are you thanking me, Caro? It should be the other way round. You have received nothing, and I?” He shrugged in a self-conscious way. “I have received everything.”
    “Everything?” she asked mischievously. “Never. I cannot believe that.”
    “Your trust, your willingness to touch me, make me come, watch me as I came by you, for you. That is everything, my love.”

C HAPTER F IVE
    “Am I?” she pondered. “Your love? I wonder.” She stood up with one brisk movement and shook out her crushed skirts. “It is past midnight, I must go. I have a request. Will you come to Chattels tomorrow evening? Well, ‘tis this evening now. I am returning this morning, whatever my parents say. It is less than two hours from town, faster if you ride. Will you come and dine with me? And then—well, then I will tell you all—and we can see if we are in agreement as to our futures.” She waited with baited breath for his answer.
    She could almost see the wheels turning as he muttered, “Cancel Hoolihan, put off cards, ignore Bateman,” under his breath. “I will.” It sounded like a vow.
    She breathed a silent sigh of relief.
    “I will see you at six then?”
    ***
    It was early afternoon before Caroline, weary and dusty, arrived at her home. As she reached the gates of Chattels and saw the house in the distance, her spirits lifted. Home. Her home, where she was in charge, not her parents, her. She sighed in happiness.
    Beside her in the coach, Primmy smiled. “That’s more like the lady we all love