Scandal of the Year by Laura Lee Guhrke Page B

end of the afternoon, Aidan had managed to regain much of the equanimity he’d worked so hard to acquire during the past nine months. But the moment he entered the tearoom of the Savoy to join Lord and Lady Worthing for tea, his efforts went to the wall, for seated at one of the tables was the woman he’d been trying so hard to forget.
    Aidan froze, his gaze riveted to where she sat with a group of friends having tea. She was wearing an enormous straw hat topped with masses of white ostrich feathers, but beneath its wide brim, there was no mistaking Lady Yardley’s delicate features and violet eyes.
    Someone coughed behind him, and he turned to find people waiting to enter the tearoom. He moved out of the doorway, and as a waiter led him past her table to where his own party was seated, he did not look at her. He crossed the Savoy’s tearoom, greeted Lord and Lady Worthing, and sat down. He made desultory small talk, read over the menu, and ordered tea, and the entire time, he did not so much as glance in that woman’s direction, but though he didn’t look at her, one question kept running through his mind, the same question that had tormented him for months.
    What on earth had possessed him to go on that picnic with her? He’d asked himself that question innumerable times, but for the first time, an answer echoed back to him.
    Under that gentlemanly honor you revere so much, you long for adventure and excitement and a taste of the forbidden fruit.
    It was true, he realized, and it galled him to know she could see in him things he could not see in himself. At the time, he’d told himself all the reasons calling upon her at her cottage, picnicking with her, and being alone with her were inappropriate, foolish, and just plain wrong, but those reminders hadn’t stopped him from going. When she’d offered him a second glass of champagne, he’d reminded himself of why he never had a second glass, and then he’d drunk it. And then he’d drunk another, and another, and though he didn’t remember much after they’d uncorked the second bottle, he vividly remembered the lust that had flooded through his body and burned away any sense of honor he’d ever had.
    Aidan slid a glance at her, but when he did, he didn’t picture her as she was here, in a frothy tea gown of pale blue silk, sipping tea at the Savoy amid crystal chandeliers, plush carpets, and potted palms. No, he saw her in a wet dress of white muslin, walking out of the water and across the sand toward him.
    She lifted her teacup, but in his mind her fingers weren’t curled around a piece of delicate china. Instead, they were gliding down the damp skin at the base of her throat.
    Arousal flickered up inside him.
    Aidan looked away, murmured something polite about the weather, and wondered if he’d only been deluding himself all these months. He began to fear that despite all it had cost him, the desire he’d always felt for her could once again consume him. And if he let that happen again, what price would he pay for it?
    Violently, he stood up, earning himself astonished stares from his companions. “Forgive me,” he said at once, and he knew he ought to sit back down, but he just could not remain here another moment. He mumbled something about a sudden headache, excused himself from Lord and Lady Worthing, and left the Savoy.
    Damn that woman, he thought, as he started down the sidewalk. Damn her for still being tempting as hell.
    He was here for the season to find a suitable duchess, not lust after a notorious divorcee, but he knew as long as they both remained in town, he would feel this every time he saw her if he didn’t find a way to stop it.
    He walked back along the Embankment to his offices. Lambert had already departed for the day, but, thankfully, his secretary had left a stack of contracts and bid proposals on his desk for his review.
    Aidan took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and sat down at his desk. Work, he knew from past