His Wicked Seduction novel Chapter 30

The next morning, Horatia donned a morning dress of twilled French silk in a dark rosy pink and went down the main stairs. The house was quiet, which meant that Cedric and Audrey were still asleep. Her normally soft steps became tiptoes as she trod through the house. She passed by the drawing room, paused in puzzlement and retreated back a few feet to gaze discreetly through the open doorway.

In the far corner, Lucien was stretched out on his back, asleep on the daybed. Muff, the little feline devil, was stretched out on his back across Lucien's stomach, one paw raised in the air, tail twitching at the very tip. Lucien had one hand flat over the cat's belly, his fingers surprisingly graceful as they caressed him. It was the sort of caress a person made half-asleep, or half-awake.

Horatia felt an ache rise in her as she watched. She would never know if Lucien would stroke her this way in bed. Only then did it occur to Horatia that Lucien hadn't left last night. A flash of remorse shot through her. She'd been a horrible hostess. A room should have been prepared and a bed turned down for him. Lucien should not have suffered the discomforts of a daybed.

Horatia took a tentative step inside, but Muff shifted upon seeing her and began to purr. Fearing she'd wake Lucien, she retreated to the breakfast room where a hot meal was already awaiting her. The coffee was fresh and the rich scent danced out into the hall. Horatia, preferring tea, saw to preparing herself a warm cup with plenty of sugar. She'd only started to bite into her toast when a sleepy-eyed Lucien joined her.

Even as he yawned and ran a hand through his tousled red hair he was a god among mortals. He gave her a surprisingly sheepish smile which would have sent her straight to the floor had she not already been seated. It reflected a bashfulness for having done something devilishly intimate the night before. Horatia's breath caught as he tugged his rumpled waistcoat down and tried to straighten his cravat. Was this how his mistresses saw him after a night of passion? If they had they would have insisted on getting him straight back into bed. At least that's what she would have wanted. The thought made her blush but Lucien didn't seem to notice.

"Morning," he said, taking a chair opposite her.

"Good morning," she managed to reply. It had startled her, this change, this lack of cold hostility or casual flirting. What was he playing at?

"Is the coffee still hot?" he asked.

"Yes, it's been freshly brewed." She leaned forward to pour him a cup.

"Wonderful. Two sugars, please," he asked when she started to slide the cup and saucer over.

She hastily dropped two cubes into his cup. Odd, she always thought he'd take it black and strong.

Lucien noticed her puzzled look and grinned.

"I can never stomach the stuff unless it is sweet. It has been noted, according to my brother Lawrence, as one of my greatest faults."

Horatia giggled, despite her intention to remain stoic.

"Then perhaps you should know that I once saw Lawrence put three sugars into his tea one afternoon last spring." She relayed this in a conspiratorial whisper. "He tries to do so when no one is looking."

"That cur! Tea I can drink straight, and the little weasel dares to needle me? Oh the things I endure!" he bemoaned theatrically, clutching his chest. "I will get even with him the next time I face him in the boxing ring." Lucien threw this out with dramatic flare.

Horatia winced at the image of Lucien striking his younger brother in the nose hard enough to draw blood. But men often did the most foolish things. Her own brother was clear proof of that.

"I trust you slept well?" Lucien changed the topic of conversation.

"Yes, well enough, but oh...you should have had the servants prepare a room for you, Lucien. To sleep on that daybed must have been wretchedly uncomfortable." She could feel her face warm as she spoke. It was a clear admission of her failure as a hostess. Thank goodness her mother wasn't alive to witness it.

He shrugged and sampled his coffee. "Nonsense, it was fine. A bit stiff, but nothing less than I deserved. Which brings me to the point I must speak to you about."

Horatia shook her head as she tried to stop him from saying anything that would ruin such a pleasant beginning to the day.

He held up a hand and any protests she had died on her lips. "Now hear me out, Horatia. What happened last night, everything I said, I apologize unreservedly. I was childish and cruel. I have no reason to ignore you or be so cold. So please accept my apologies and tell me you agree that we should let bygones be bygones."

He reached across the breakfast table, offering one of his hands. Before Horatia could stop herself she was sliding her fingers into his firm grasp.

"Friends?" he asked. This simple connection was more intimate to her than any kiss he'd given her before. It was a touch he'd offered out of friendship with good intentions, not because he was toying with her-and it scared her. It reminded her that she would always want more, but this she would take happily.

"Friends," she agreed.