Sometime in the middle of the night, they had become completely entwined. He pulled on his trousers, trying to compose the delicate note he had to send. Dear Countess, Miss Seton is rightly ruined; please do come and be scandalized. Sincerely, Lord Thaxton. In the end, he went with Lady S—As we discussed, we would like to enlist your help. C’s bedroom. When he handed it to Sutton, in not much more than shirtsleeves, he received a look of censure so severe it made him glad he was barefoot—he had no boots in which to quake. All he was concerned with was getting back to Cassandra’s bed. He closed the door on his return, trying not to wake her. He shed his shirt but kept on his trousers, sliding back into bed behind her. She stirred, her hair half hiding an angelic smile. “Good morning, my lord. Are you ready to play the rogue?” “Always.” He smiled, burrowing in her neck. “Lady Dorset will be furious.” “So will Miles. I am sure it will be great fun. Do you want to run away, or stay and watch the fireworks?”
