She whimpers as I lick her, and her pussy clenches harder around me. It’s fucking magnificent.

Things have changed between us since the day of the polo match. They’re deeper, more intense…just more everything. We both feel it, know it, though we haven’t spoken about it. Not yet.

Olivia’s hips circle and grind as my balls tighten. I lift her back up, so we’re face-to-face. With my hands on her shoulders, I rock up into her while she fucks down on me hard and perfect. And we come together—grasping at one another, moaning and cursing.

The acoustics of these walls aren’t as good as the palace…but they’re damn close.

The next day, on the drive back, we stop at a pub for an early dinner. It’s a low-key place, known for its ploughman’s sandwich and good whiskey. Since it’s an unplanned stop, security goes in before us, does a sweep, and remains nearby while we eat.

Afterward, as we stand up from the table, Henry squints at a curvy strawberry blond across the room, pressing a finger to his lips, then aiming it in her direction. “I know that girl. How do I know that girl?”

“Titebottum,” I tell him.

“Yes, she certainly has that. Though I’m surprised you’d mention it in front of Olive.”

Olivia folds her arms, looking for an explanation. And I chuckle at my brother because he’s an idiot.

“That’s her name,” I tell them both. “She’s Lady Von Titebottum’s daughter, the younger one…Penelope.”

Henry snaps his fingers. “Yes, that’s it. I met her at Baron Fossbender’s a few years back when she was still in university.”

Just then, a long-haired brunette with glasses steps up beside Penelope, and I add, “And that’s her sister…Sarah, I believe.”

As we head toward the door, Penelope spots my brother, and from the look on her face she doesn’t have any trouble recalling who he is. “Henry Pembrook! It’s been forever—how the hell are you?”

“I’m good, Penelope.”

Sarah and Penelope both curtsy, short and quick, then Penelope scowls dramatically at Henry. “Don’t tell me you were here visiting and didn’t think to look me up! I’ll never forgive you.”

Henry grins. “Drive back with us. I’ll make it up to you.”

She pouts. “I can’t. Mother hates the city—too noisy, too crowded.”

“And we have to bring home dinner. We’re picking it up now,” Sarah says in a soft, airy voice, clutching a leather-bound book to her chest.

“What are you reading?” Olivia asks.

The girl smiles. “Sense and Sensibility.”

“For the thousandth time,” Penelope grumbles. “And she won’t even read like a normal person—I got her an e-reader for her birthday but she doesn’t use it! She carries all those books around in that satchel that’s about to fall apart.”

“An e-reader’s not the same, Penny,” Sarah explains quietly.

“A book’s a book.” Henry shrugs. “It’s just…words. Isn’t it?”

Sarah blushes deeply—almost purple. But she still shakes her head at my brother—pityingly. She opens the book and holds it up near his face.

“Smell.”

After a moment, Henry leans down and sniffs the pages distrustfully.

“What do you smell?” Sarah asks.

Henry gives it another sniff. “It smells…old.”

“Exactly!” She smells the pages herself, deep and long. “Paper and ink—there’s nothing like it. The only thing that smells better than a new book is an old one.”

Someone drops a tray of glasses behind the bar, and the shattering crash reverberates throughout the room. And Sarah Von Titebottum goes very still, her eyes blank and her skin whiter than the pages she’s holding.

“Lady Sarah,” I ask, “are you all right?”

She doesn’t respond.

“It’s okay,” her sister whispers, but she doesn’t seem to hear her.

Henry presses his palm to her arm. “Sarah?”

She inhales swiftly—gasping—like she hadn’t been breathing. Then she blinks and looks around, slightly panicked, before recovering herself.

“Forgive me. I was…startled…by the crash.” She presses her hand to her chest. “I’m going to get some air and wait outside, Pen.”

Just then, a uniformed waiter brings the dinner order they’re picking up. Penelope asks the waiter to carry it to the car for them and we say our good-byes.

On the way out, Penelope reminds Henry, “Ring me! Don’t forget.”

“I will.” He waves.

Then he stares after them, watching them walk out the door. “She’s an odd little duck, isn’t she?”

“Who?” I ask.

“Lady Sarah. Pity—she could be pretty, if she didn’t dress like a monk in drag.”

Olivia clucks her tongue, like a disapproving, big-sister hen. “She didn’t look like a monk, you jerk. Maybe she’s busy with—interests, or whatever—and doesn’t have time to spend on her appearance. I can understand that.” She points up and down her luscious little form. “Believe it or not, I don’t look like this in my real life.”

I slip my arm around her waist. “Rubbish—you’re beautiful no matter what you have on.” Then I whisper in her ear, “Especially when you have on nothing.”

“Still,” Henry muses as we head for the door, “I wouldn’t mind getting a peek at what’s under Miss Sense and Sensibility’s long skirt. With a name like Titebottum, it must be good.”