Then he licked off whatever he’d gathered, and she grew so warm that it was possible the moon had morphed into the sun.
“And there.” He touched the other corner.
“And here.” Her chin.
“And there.” The space between her brows, where his thumb lingered.
People strolled by, and she wondered what they thought of this couple on the steps barely moving.
“And there.” Her left temple.
“I daresay, I wasn’t that messy.”
“Your face is perfect, Miss Trewlove.”
“From your mouth to the lords’ ears. And I don’t mean God’s. I mean the viscounts, and earls... I hope they find me comely.”
“I don’t see how they can’t.” His tone was terse, rife with disapproval. As though she’d suddenly ignited, he’d moved his hand away, and she found herself aching once more for his caress.
“May I be honest with you, Mr. Sommersby?”
“I daresay, I hope you always are, Miss Trewlove.”
She took a deep breath, not at all certain her words would ease whatever tension had abruptly risen within him. “You confound me, sir.”
“And how is that?”
How to explain so it didn’t appear that she truly cared, when in fact she cared a great deal, more than was wise for a woman who was on the cusp of going on a husband hunt. “You don’t seem to know your own mind.”
He arched a heavy dark brow. “Indeed.”
“It’s as though you can’t decide whether or not you find me to your liking. This afternoon, for example, I was left with the impression you couldn’t wait to be rid of me. Now, here you are, having inserted yourself into my adventure, making it a much more pleasant experience than it would have been had I come alone as planned. You saw to my tears and tidied my face, and yet, I can’t help but believe that just now I’ve offended you.”
He released a long sigh before shifting away from her, planting his elbows on his thighs, clasping his hands, and staring into the street where the first wisps of fog were making their presence known. “I was once married. It was not a happy arrangement.”
Her heart lurched at the confession he’d made and the somberness of his tone. “Did you get divorced?”
“No, she passed away. But our marriage came about because she arranged for us to be caught in a compromising situation. I had no choice but to marry her. So when you told me you were willing to do all that is necessary to acquire your dream of landing a peer—”
“It’s not my dream.”
He jerked his head around to stare at her.
“It’s my mum’s.” She felt rather silly saying that. “I’d be content to spend my life as a spinster working in my shop.”
“Then why not simply do that?”
She looked up, wishing the stars were visible. “Because they have all worked so hard and sacrificed so much to see me well situated that I have to at least give it my best. I fully realize that a woman of my scandalous background will not be any lord’s ideal, but I doubt a one of them will find any lady more prepared to manage a household than I. I can exhibit grace and confidence and be an asset. If you will not think me too obnoxious, I must admit I will be quite the catch.”
He gave a short chuckle, a small grin. “It seems you can add a lack of modesty to your list of attributes.”
“Mick says we must project what we want the world to believe.” Growing somber, she dared to place her hand over his forearm. “I’m sorry about your wife, your marriage. Have you been a widower long?”
“During some moments it feels like forever; during others as though no time at all has passed. I mourn her death, did not wish it upon her.”
“But you have scars from her deception.”
He studied her a full minute before confessing, “I do find it a challenge to trust women’s motives.”
