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Despite confessing their love for one another, Francesca and Michaela have yet to make love. Francesca Bridgerton is absolutely normal about this, as one would expect.
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“Am I not to your liking, Michaela?"
Michaela folded the paper down, eyebrows scrunching in confusion as her eyes swept over Francesca's face.
"What a silly question, love." Michaela smiled, reaching out to grasp Francesca's hand. "You're more than to my liking. You're everything I could want."
"But you want to enjoy sexual congress, do you not?" Francesca's words rushed out in a jumble.
Michaela's jaw dropped as the question washed over her and her gaze broke from Francesca's as she cleared her throat. Rarely did Francesca managed to render Michaela speechless. Worse yet, she could not relish it in this moment as she often did.
"I am sorry to speak so frankly. I know this subject is one to be avoided in polite company but I feared that you did not want me—"
"Of course I want you,” Michaela spoke softly, eyes still averted. "God, do I want you Francesca.”
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