Every Time We Kiss

Chapter 11

She was a complete and utter idiot, Jennette thought as she followed behind Mary and Matthew. How foolish could she be? How could she have dropped those papers in front of him? The only consolation was the fact that he’d only seen the two sketches of his face. She still held the other two next to her chest. Once she reached the house, she would burn them before anyone noticed them.

What was she thinking, drawing him as she imagined he would appear without clothes? Anyone might have come upon her and seen the pictures. But after her conversation with Avis this morning, she’d been unable to think of anything else, save him. Matthew with his cold gray eyes that warmed like coal embers when he kissed her.

Having only felt his shoulders and chest, she really had no idea exactly what he might look like without clothes. But she’d done her best to capture her image of him based on statues she’d seen at the British Museum. However, never having seen one of the more interesting parts of his body, she’d given him the obligatory fig leaf.

She shook her head, angry with herself for letting her imagination take over, and frustrated with him as he walked quietly in front of her with Mary Marston. Why had he baited her when they were all but in front of Mary? Though Mary seemed beyond hearing distance, she still might have overheard something scandalous.

His comments about inviting her to stay in his room still sent a shiver down her back. Had he asked last night, Jennette wondered how she would have replied. In her slightly intoxicated state, she might have agreed.

If only he’d asked….

He glanced back at her with a devilish wink. Oh God, now he knew. He could see into her wicked soul and knew the truth of her desire for him. She had to put this to an end. Her mother had raised her in the correct manner and no proper woman took a lover.

Except Avis, her traitorous mind told her.

Avis’ situation had not been the same. She wanted to find out what happened between a man and a woman to help her writing. Jennette knew what happened. Her mother had given her very specific talks about the marriage bed.

The marriage bed.

Making love was strictly for marriage.

And she couldn’t marry Matthew. She’d secured her future five years ago when her foot slipped on the wet grass, and she let him take the scandalous blame.

She would always remain a spinster.

So if that was the case, what was stopping her from taking a lover?

No, she wasn’t that sort of woman.

Thankfully, they had finally reached the house. Now she could burn those images. If only she could erase them from her mind so easily.

“Lady Jennette,” a voice called out from the salon.

Jennette stopped and walked to the threshold to see Baron Huntley standing by the fireplace. “Huntley?”

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” he said, moving toward her.

“We spoke, however briefly, at Lady Elizabeth’s literary salon just last week.”

He looked down and blushed. “Of course.”

“I didn’t realize you knew the Astons.” Jennette remained rooted to the spot but sensed Matthew standing behind her.

“Blackburn,” Huntley acknowledged with a nod.

“Huntley.”

She heard Matthew’s cold response. What was between them?

“I have some occasional business with Lord Aston,” Huntley finally replied to her comment.

“How nice,” Jennette said but had no idea what else to add. She’d known Huntley since her bow, but he had never expressed any interest in her. The man was a rake through and through.

Huntley combed his fingers through his sandy brown hair. “I suppose I should change before the luncheon. Perhaps we can talk later?”

What in the world would Huntley want to discuss with her? “Of course, that would be lovely.”