Peavey for what seemed hours, hardly able to concentrate long enough to form a sentence. All she could think of was Alex. Throughout the afternoon and on the return trip home, she tried to imagine what he was doing, if he was thinking about her. She closed her eyes and saw the way his dark hair curled above his collar, his broad hand resting on hers, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he laughed. She saw the smoldering way he looked at her as he had thrust into her. An involuntary tremble coursed through her, and she rubbed her hands vigorously against her arms. Once again at Russell Square, she dressed very carefully for the evening. The pale pink brocade gown she chose seemed a little overdone for Vauxhall Gardens, she thought, and burst into gay laughter. She could meet him in the middle of the pumpkin field for all she cared, anywhere, as long as she saw him again. At half past six, she fairly flew outside to wave down a passing hack and cheerfully gave the driver the direction to Lady Darfield's.
