Pleasurable Pursuits

"Perhaps I am." Where was this boldness coming from?

The audacious man raised a big, careful hand to her cheek as the corner of his mouth turned up, and she stilled, holding her breath, her stomach in knots.

"My lord, I -"

His mouth was just barely on hers. She felt his breath ghost against her lips, and her skin erupted in gooseflesh. It took her a moment to realize he was waiting for her to close the space between them, and Emilia knew she absolutely shouldn't, but she also knew that the opportunity to kiss this gorgeous man once more was not something she could resist.

"Oh, dear," she murmured, and pressed a hand to his chest, standing on her tiptoes to meet him.

His answering groan nearly undid her. She melted against him, and his mouth was insistent, searching and then taking, his tongue moving over hers. His hand on her cheek went to the side of her throat, and he gripped it in a possessive way that thrilled her, his thumb just under her chin. Then he pulled away, and her fist tightened on the fabric of his jacket, silently begging him not to stop, to take her in this alley if he wished.

Mayhap no more whiskey.

He leaned his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged. "It was you. Your secret is safe with me, Persephone."

It was as if she'd been doused in a bucket of ice water. She reared back, but there was nowhere for her to go, trapped between his body and the wall. He'd tricked her!

"Easy. Easy, Miss Townsend. I meant what I said. I will not tell a soul."

"What do you possibly have to gain from that?" she demanded. Painful, humiliating memories rushed through her. Men never had a woman's best interests at heart unless they got something out of it.

"The same thing I have to gain from outing you. Nothing," Averleigh said, his expression serious as he stepped back from her. He offered his arm once more.

She ignored him - ignored an earl - and stalked out of the alleyway, falling seamlessly in with the crowd. Ever the wallflower, Emilia Townsend.

He caught up to her instantly. "I still await the story. How did you and Lady Charlotte pull it off?"

"As if I would give you more ammunition, Lord Averleigh," she said, her voice tight.

He ignored her. "It must have taken ample planning. How did you make it past Claremont?"

Unable to stop herself, Emilia let out a snort. Even the duke fell prey to the faults of most men, including a level of obliviousness bordering on stark idiocy. "The duke," she repeated with a laugh.

"Did I touch a nerve, Miss Townsend? The duke, yes. Handsome, titled, wealthy. Almost every female in England yearns for a spot at his side?"

"You seem to think very highly of him. Perhaps you should marry him, Lord Averleigh," she said sweetly.

"Hilarious, Miss Townsend, truly," he said in a tone that suggested he found that idea the opposite. "We met in London. What are you doing in Bath?"

Her cheeks heated. "You know what I am doing in Bath. I am a companion to my aunt."

Averleigh rolled his eyes. "Yes, I understand that. But why?"

He was really going to make her say it, wasn't he? "I am seven-and-twenty, my lord, and unwed. I have quite accepted my lot in life as a spinster, thank you."

"You do not truly believe that, do you?"

She fumed, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "Believe what?" she snapped, uncaring when a passerby looked their way curiously.

"That you are a spinster." He looked her up and down, his perusal blatant and slow. "The very notion of it is ridiculous."

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction that a small part of her was flattered in the face of his rudeness. "Yes, well, society, as if often does, has deemed otherwise."

"Any man would trip over himself to have you in his bed."

Emilia rounded on him, and now they were getting stares. "Lord Averleigh, you forget yourself!" She waited for him to smirk, to laugh, to poke her in the side. When he didn't, she gulped. He did not seem to be jesting.

"That seems to be the theme where you are concerned," he said dryly as he looked down at her, unashamed. Goodness, did his lashes have to be so thick and so dark?

Blessedly, she caught sight of her aunt and Lady Havisham in conversation right where she'd left them, except now their arms were laden with parcels. She rushed over to the two women, keeping her face expressionless even as she heard the earl at her heels. She couldn't seem to escape the man.

Are you even sure you want to? That traitorous voice sounded.

"Thank you for allowing me to borrow your niece, Mrs. Townsend. She is most knowledgeable," Averleigh said.

Most knowledgeable indeed.

Lady Havisham clapped her hands together. "Lord Averleigh, I was hoping to see you again. I have yet to receive your response to my invitation. Will you be attending my annual autumn garden party the week next? The pumpkins are enormous this year!"

He smiled tightly. "I will need to check my schedule and return word to you, my lady."

"Emilia, I cannot wait for you to accompany me to Lady Havisham's garden party," Aunt Hattie said loudly and pointedly.

Emilia sighed.

The Townsend carriage pulled up then, and Emilia took the parcels from her aunt as the older woman waited for the footman to put down the steps.

"Miss Townsend," Lord Averleigh called.

For a split second, she feared he had reneged, and was about to leave her to the wolves.

"Yes, Lord Averleigh?" she asked, wanting to look anywhere but him. She ignored the older ladies as they ogled at the two of them.

"I look forward to seeing you next week at Lady Havisham's, then," he said.

She felt her face heat. This man and his devilry. He would doom them both.