Sophia awakened to the distinctive sound of an umbrella rapped upon a hardwood floor. She tried to sit up but it was too late. Her shift was untied, her hair in disarray. She was yet on the settee in the music room. The candles had guttered themselves and Lucien dozed beside her, his hand locked possessively over her bare breast.
Lady North Barrows, dressed in full black splendor, stood in the doorway of the music room. Her expression was more than disapproving, her sharp gaze unlikely to have missed a single detail.
Even Sophia’s n****e caught between Lucien’s nimble fingers.
“Well, well,” Lady North Barrows said. “I now see, Miss Findlay, that you are a poor choice to teach my granddaughters about decorum.” She scowled. “I had disregarded Nelson’s tidings of your conduct, but clearly,
