Just like the night at Rockford’s ball, Valentine sensed Ava’s presence in the ballroom. Numerous times, he sought her out simply to smile and lock gazes. Love filled his heart. Happiness flowed through his veins to bring a level of calmness he had never known.
Portia Durrant hovered around him like a bee on a honeypot. He spoke to her about Lady Carmichael’s extravagance, excused himself when the topic turned to the Kendalls. The urge to put Portia in her place, to inform the lady that his wife outranked her, proved overwhelming. But there was only one way the lady would feel true embarrassment, and so he had to stick to the plan.
Valentine removed his pocket watch and checked the time. “Will you excuse me? My presence is required elsewhere.” Valentine offered Drake a wide grin.
“Ah, it’s time for your ten o’clock liaison in the library,” Drake replied.
Excitement bubbled in Valentine’s chest at the prospect of holding Ava close, of kissing her in the sensual way that made him lose all grasp of sense and logic.
“You know what to do should Lady Durrant fail to take the bait.”
“Indeed.” Drake smiled. “I shall ensure the lady gathers her cronies and comes to find you.”
“Good luck,” Juliet said. “I wish I could be there to see Lady Durrant’s face when she learns Ava is your wife.”
Valentine touched Juliet affectionately on the arm. “I’m sure she will regale you with the facts over supper.”
Valentine left his friends and prowled the perimeter of the dance floor to give Portia ample time to follow his movements. Once confident he had the lady’s attention, he pounced on Ava.
“Lord Valentine,” Ava said, her eyes brimming with affection, “I did not expect to see you here this evening.”
“Did you not?” he whispered playfully in her ear. “Am I to understand from your sensual tone that you’re pleased to see me?”
“I am always pleased to see you.”
He offered his arm. “Then perhaps you might like to take a stroll. It is too cold to venture into the garden, but Lady Carmichael has a large collection of gothic novels in her library.”
“Gothic novels?” Ava threaded her arm through his. “How interesting. I am told the erotic is a popular trope.”
“Perhaps it is a subject you might care to investigate.”
“Is that wise?” she said, failing to suppress a giggle. “Some say that a libertine lurks behind your gentlemanly facade.”
“And you, my love, have the skill of a courtesan when it comes to pleasuring your husband.”
“Then lead the way. Perhaps we might learn of a new position to add to our growing repertoire.”
“I draw the line at donning a robe and playing the mad monk,” Valentine said as he led her through the crowd and out of the ballroom.
The beady eyes of the circling vultures watched their every move.
Soon, they would swoop down ready to rip Ava’s reputation to shreds.
A few people passed them in the hall. No one stopped them slipping into the library.
Excitement and the pounding thrum of lust captured
him the moment he entered the dark, deserted space. His thoughts turned salacious even though he knew this was merely a means to teach Lady Durrant a lesson, a means to restore Ava’s good name, and not a reason for him to plunge into his wife’s willing body.
Ava braced her hands on her hips. “I imagine this will work better if they catch us in a clinch.”
Valentine closed the gap between them. He captured her hands and drew her to the middle of the room, to where they had a perfect view of the door. Despite portraying an air of confidence, he recognised the nervous hitch in her voice.
“I prefer to use the word embrace. It expresses the depth of my love rather than implying something more licentious.” He slid his arm around her waist and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.
Ava smiled. “You lured me here under the pretence of hearing erotic stories,” she teased.
Valentine arched a brow. “And tonight, when we are away from here, I shall tell you a tale that will curl your toes.”