Free A Well Pleasured Lady by Christina Dodd Page B

watched the proceedings with open fascination.
    Not from Nora, who pressed her lips together in self-imposed discipline.
    Certainly not from Bubb, who attacked the weakest point of their plan without hesitation. “Are the marriage contracts negotiated and signed?”
    Sebastian relinquished Mary’s finger so slowly, it looked as if he relished the taste of her. “Of course.”
    â€œIt’s unlawful to negotiate marriage contracts without a guardian’s consent.”
    Resentment made Mary forget, for a moment, her indignation at Sebastian. “I didn’t know I had a guardian. I’ve been on my own for so long…” She let the accusation linger in the air.
    Bubb ignored her easily. “You knew, Whitfield.”
    â€œSo I did.”
    â€œThen you ought to have told me, Lord Whitfield,” Mary said. When she thought of the many things Lord Whitfield had kept from her, she could have screamed.
    And she almost did when he slipped his arm around her waist. He could have made the motion a simple, proprietary gesture, but no. He had to turn everything into a production.
    His open palm skimmed in circles across her back, and when his hand reached the far side of her, he used his strength to draw her along the slick, hard cushion and close to him. Too close to him. So close she felt the muscles of his thighs flex. Oh, for the return of her whalebone petticoat!
    His breath brushed her cheek. “Sebastian,” he said.
    â€œWhat?” She didn’t make the mistake of turning her head to look at him. He was much, much too close.
    â€œSebastian. My name is Sebastian.” His voicewas only a trickle of sound, gauged to flow into her ears alone. “If we’re to deceive your family, you’re going to have to yield me at least that small familiarity.”
    She’d do anything to get him to release her. “I will.”
    He spoke again, and it was more of a sigh than a word. “Sebastian.”
    â€œSebastian,” she repeated.
    He smoothed back her hair. His lips moved against her ear—her ear! What was he doing by her ear? She waited to hear something, then with a leap of intuition realized the motion she’d felt was a smile. He’d leaned close to the side of her head, put his lips to her ear, and smiled. A mechanical series of motions for him. A touching display of devotion as witnessed by the audience.
    Nevertheless, she shivered because…why? Because he’d given her a chill? Or in anticipation of his next move?
    He touched her, she reacted, and all the while she told herself he was despicable. He might masquerade as someone gifted with a rare kindness; he might have held her gently when he lifted her from the carriage and coaxed broth down her throat when she was so ill, but his actions hid an empty heart. He would have carried her all the way to London in his arms if that had been what it took to get her here. He wanted only to use her. She needed to remember that.
    Grateful for the discipline she’d learned in the pastten sterile years, she gathered her poise and smiled at her uncle. “As you might imagine, Lord Whitfield is very persuasive, especially to a woman so long on the shelf.”
    Sebastian pinched her when she called him by his title, but he replied sweetly, “Twenty-six is scarcely old, my darling.”
    â€œStill, he didn’t tell you about your fortune, and he knew about it.” Nora eyed Sebastian forbiddingly, possibly less impressed than Mary with his affectionate performance. “No doubt it slipped his mind the first time he—”
    â€œSaw her unbound hair.” Sebastian arranged a handful of the wild stuff over Mary’s shoulder, and stared out at the audience with every evidence of sincerity. “I couldn’t resist, Bubb. You know how it is with you Fairchilds, and you must know I tried to resist.”
    â€œOf course, old chap.” Bubb consumed every one of