The Beast's Bluestocking (The Bluestocking War) by Eva Devon

Author:Eva Devon [Devon, Eva]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Duke, rake, Regency, Historical Romance, Bluestocking
Publisher: Eva Devon
Published: 2021-05-17T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Clara drank her tea happily and quietly as she snuck smug glances at her brother and friend.

Phillipa ate her toast, relieved her friend wasn’t making any difficult discourse. She’d been certain she wouldn’t, after all.

And as it was? Phillipa was absolutely overwhelmed by the events of last evening. It had been an experience to which she had no reference point—the joy of it, the pleasure of it, the physical experience?

There was nothing like it that she could describe or relate it to.

And. . .there had been one point that had stunned and empowered her.

She had not been a passive participant. Oh no. In fact, her strength had made the whole affair possible, and she loved that she had taken so much into her control. That he had urged it and liked it.

It had made her feel powerful and strong.

Society always seemed to insinuate the lady was the vine clinging to the oak. That she was passive, waiting for the man’s strength. As if lovemaking was something that happened to a young lady not with.

That was not what had transpired.

Though he was more experienced, their coming together had felt more like two equals, at last meeting and entwining into one.

As they sat together in the breakfast room with Clara, all being rather quiet as they spread their butter and jam upon their toast, ate rashers of bacon, drank dark tea, sugared and laced with milk, she thought that she had found a rather perfect existence.

Of course, it was impossible to know how long it would last.

But that, in itself, couldn’t matter. She couldn’t let it.

She had to savor this moment. For this? This was thrilling. This was what she had longed for, for months. Perhaps not exactly, but it would do. At least now she was going to get to be close to him for a period of time.

No, she wouldn't think too far into the future. That was a foolish thing to do. After all, one never knew what could happen ahead. The last year had taught her that.

In one single day, everything could change.

Look what had happened to Grey's own older brother.

He had died most unexpectedly, which had completely changed Anthony's life. And her own.

Just as Anthony was about to speak, Merrill charged into the breakfast room, paper in his hand.

“Anthony,” Merrill declared. “I have news.”

But then Merrill stopped, and he looked from Anthony to Clara to Phillipa, and then Anthony again and then to Phillipa.

It would have been funny except she did not know if Merrill would be able to deduce what had transpired during the night. And if he could, how would he react?

Merrill looked bemused as if something was not quite right. Anthony gave Phillipa a conspiratorial look, but it was clear and strong, and it definitely suggested that she was, well, his.

It was a look of sheer longing and intimacy, and it was so blatant that she wondered that Anthony had been able to be a soldier at all, for his face was completely transparent.

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