her eyes wide, her hand holding up her bodice. Rhys forced himself to back away while she drew a few shaky breaths.
“I think we should stop now.”
He nodded, but every inch of his body throbbed. He wondered if he’d ever been so aroused. If she hadn’t stopped him, he would have taken her right there on the sofa.
She reached behind herself and tugged on the ribbon of her dress, but she couldn’t seem to tighten it. He drew in a long breath. “Let me.” She gave him a wary look.
“I promise I’ll do nothing but straighten the dress.” She nodded, her breathing still too ragged for speech. He could barely keep his hands from skimming along the soft skin of her back as he pulled the ribbon tight and secured them. Stepping away from her took excruciating effort. He had to get her out of there fast.
He pulled the bell cord to summon Meadows. When his valet entered, he asked him to bring the carriage around and have two footmen escort Amanda home.
After Meadows left, Rhys risked a glance at Amanda. She was gazing out the window with her arms crossed in front of her. He saw her shiver. He cursed himself for proving to be the scoundrel she’d assumed he was. “I think it would be best if I didn’t accompany you home.”
She turned to him, her cheeks still deeply pink. Tendrils of her hair stood out around her head like a halo. She looked like a woman who’d been well-loved. He hoped to God her aunt and sister hadn’t yet returned from the ball.
“I agree.” Her voice was lower than normal.
He walked her to the front door and handed her into the waiting carriage. “I’ll call on you in the early afternoon.”
“I’ll be expecting you.” She rested her hand on his arm. He was so edgy from their kiss that the simple touch made him jump.
She smiled as she turned to leave, and he was troubled by the look on her face. He’d expected wariness or anger, but he’d seen amusement in her eyes. He couldn’t begin to imagine what she was up to. Whatever it was, he feared for his sanity.
*
Late the next morning, Rhys entered his club. Farrington’s informant had indicated that the Frenchman would be interested in attending some of the fast parties Rhys used to frequent. He’d distanced himself from that set after some of the baser men tried to kill Mark, Cassandra and Amanda.
Farrington wanted Rhys to question some of his former friends, men who knew most of the seedy goings-on among the upper class. Rhys thought it was much too early for any of these men to be awake, much less dressed and out at the club, but he intended to partake of a hearty breakfast and peruse the morning paper.
To his surprise, he spotted Viscount Langley sitting alone at a corner table. Of all the men he’d hoped to see, Langley was the one he trusted most. Several years ago, Rhys had let the man in on one of his operations. This time, he couldn’t reveal the deeper motivations for his investigations, but if necessary, he could tell Langley enough of the truth to obtain his assistance.
“Good morning,” he said, approaching his friend’s table.
“Ah, good morning, Stanton. I wouldn’t have expected to see you out and about this early.” Langley gestured to an empty seat and Rhys took it.
“I was thinking the same of you.”
Langley smiled. “I took an early night last night. I’ve hosted two gatherings in the last week. It’s sad to say, but I think I may be getting too old for that level of activity.” Rhys laughed. “Don’t say such things. I’m not many years younger than you, and I never intend to get too old for amusement.”
Langley raised his brow. “I haven’t seen you at many amusements lately.”
“No, I’ve been looking for entertainment elsewhere. In more traditional paths I suppose you could say.”
Langley laughed. “I cannot imagine any of your pursuits being traditional.”
“Perhaps not, but I’ve found myself requiring a different sort of entertainment.”
“Understandable. I