Winning Lord West: A witty Regency romance novel (Dashing Widows Book 3) by Anna Campbell

Author:Anna Campbell [Campbell, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: dp books
Published: 2024-11-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

West leaned back from the table and raised a glass of excellent claret to his lips as he studied Helena. Right now, she didn’t look like the self-contained countess with the formidable brain, who had alternately awed and fascinated London society. Nor did she, thank God, look like the unhappy Lady Crewe who had held her head high through the shambles her repugnant husband had made of her life.

She didn’t even look like the adorably unsure beauty who had succumbed to his seduction.

Was that only two nights ago? He’d lived a lifetime since.

He smiled at her in delight. “My dear Lady Crewe, you’re foxed.”

Helena smiled back with bleary affability. “I fear, my lord, you are right.”

With impressive steadiness, she raised her claret and took a sip. Between them, the ruins of their meal spread across the table. Silas’s kitchens had done them proud, with oysters, chicken à la perse, salads—courtesy again of the greenhouses—exotic fruits, fresh and candied. All that remained in one piece was a meringue fancy molded in the shape of the summerhouse.

West wasn’t anywhere near tipsy, although an enjoyable warmth simmered in his blood. He had a strong head for liquor. The only man able to drink him under the table was Anthony Townsend, who had clearly led quite a life, running his shipping line.

The only man in England. In Russia, the locals and their vodka had trumped him.

Helena, on the other hand, was three sheets to the wind.

“Do you want to lie down?” He waved his glass toward the low divan under the window, where the servants had set out cushions and rugs.

Salacious anticipation broadened her smile. “Yes.”

When her foot curled over his knee in unmistakable invitation, he jumped like a virgin. During the meal, she must have kicked off her half-boots.

His cock reacted with predictable enthusiasm. Never had he been as desperate for a woman as he was for Helena. She merely had to look at him sideways, and he was upright as a ship’s mast. He’d long believed they’d prove a physical match, but the sizzling reality of holding her in his arms surpassed all his imaginings.

Still, a gentleman didn’t take advantage of a lady’s inebriation.

And he remained a gentleman. Just.

“You’ll feel better after a nap.”

She pursed her lips and lowered her eyelids until thick, black lashes shadowed her cheekbones. “I’m feeling rather fine right now.”

With unmistakable intent, her foot slid further up his thigh. His grip on the glass tightened as explosions set off behind his eyes. “Helena, you’re in no state to make decisions.”

He wished she’d stop smiling at him as though she meant to gobble him up for dessert, instead of the sugar and cream confection.

“That charming bower screams sin. You can’t mean to waste it.”

“We’ll use it when you’ve got a clear head.”

With a soft laugh, she curled her toes against his leg. “I’m never clearheaded when I’m with you.”

Astonishment, as much as burgeoning arousal, had him sitting straight in his chair. From Helena, that was a major admission. Unfortunately, it also proved that she wasn’t herself.

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