The score of female diners looked just as elegant as the place settings, all dressed in evening gowns even though it was barely two o’clock in the afternoon. They were practicing the art of drinking soup without slurping, and Lily had very few corrections to make.
She had just signaled the two manservants to clear away the soup plates and bring in the next course when she was approached by a chambermaid, who whispered in her ear.
“Beg pardon for intruding, Miss Loring, but you have a gentleman caller who wishes to speak with you.”
Lily felt her heart skip a beat. No gentlemen of her acquaintance even knew she was here…unless… Surely Lord Claybourne had not found her. “Did the gentleman give a name?”
“No, miss, but he looks like a fancy lord-and he acts like one, too. Said to tell you that he has ‘enough patience to outlast you,’ whatever that means.”
Regrettably she knew exactly what that meant. Lily drew an uneven breath, alarmed at the thought of having to face the marquess again. “You put him in Miss Delee’s sitting room, Ellen?”
“No, miss. He asked to be shown to your bedchamber.”
“My bedchamber?” Her tone had risen in pitch, but when Lily realized that several curious pairs of eyes had turned in her direction, she lowered her voice. “My bedchamber is not the proper place for a gentleman caller, Ellen.”
“I know, Miss Loring, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
It sounded just like Lord Claybourne, Lily thought, torn between exasperation and vexation.
Vexation won out when Ellen added, “He said you would rather have a private interview there than have him come to the dining room with your pupils present.”
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At the implied threat, Lily pressed her lips together in irritation. Obviously she had no choice but to receive him in her bedchamber, since she didn’t want him making a scene in front of an audience.
“Do you want me to fetch Miss Delee to deal with him?” the maid asked nervously at Lily’s silence.
“No, I will see him, thank you, Ellen.”
After politely excusing herself from her pupils for a moment, Lily left the dining room and took the back stairs. Deliberately ignoring the butterflies fluttering in her stomach, she climbed two flights to her own floor and marched down the corridor to her bedchamber. The door was shut, but she pushed it open-and came up short at the sight of Lord Claybourne.
He was actually lounging on her bed, his back propped up against the pillows, one booted leg casually drawn up as a prop for the book he was reading.
Her book, she realized, her mouth dropping open at his temerity. But it was the man himself who made her speechless. It was shocking how just being in the same room with him seemed to draw all the air from her lungs.
Then he looked up and locked gazes with her, and the flutter in her stomach suddenly became a riot.
Lily pressed a hand to her midriff, yet her defensive gesture did nothing to calm her smoldering awareness of him. Not when Claybourne was looking at her in that disconcerting way.
The gleam in his hazel eyes held a mix of triumph, sensuality, lazy amusement, and more-the promise of retribution.
“Come in, angel,” he said in his low, rich voice. “We have a great deal to discuss, wouldn’t you say?”
If he’d wondered how he would feel at seeing Lily Loring again, Heath had his answer now: Sensation shot through him, making his stomach clench and his loins tighten.
She felt the same spark of fire between them, he knew, watching her lustrous eyes widen and turn wary. It gave him a primal male satisfaction.
Marveling at the undeniable physical impact Lily had on him, he let the heat of his gaze travel slowly downward to her lush mouth. He couldn’t forget the taste of those dusky-rose lips. Couldn’t forget those amazing dark eyes, that rich chestnut color of her hair.
Yet in person she was even more vibrant than in his memories. And his visceral response to her was even more intense.
It wasn’t mere lust, however. Something about her made his heart race. He hadn’t imagined it, he knew that now.
Heath smiled inwardly at himself. The question of whether the spark would still be there between them had made the last four weeks seem interminable. His life had been utterly flat since meeting Lilian Loring. Certainly there hadn’t been a single woman in the interim who’d captured his interest.
He hadn’t expected to run his quarry to earth in a lodging house for lightskirts, though. He hadn’t expected Lily to run from him, either. Or to put him to the trouble of chasing her. He’d never been compelled to exert himself to pursue any woman.
Admittedly he’d been piqued by her flight, yet exhilarated by the thrill of the chase. Which made his triumph at finally catching her all the more sweet, despite his reservations at finding her living in a residence owned by Fanny Irwin, with a pair of infamous highflyers and a score of other straw damsels.