“Eugie!” Grace’s tone was becoming exasperated.
“Go to your sister, my lady,” Lord Hertford urged her, his countenance grim. “It would be most unwise for us to be caught alone together. I should not wish to cause further damage to your reputation.”
His choice of words was not lost upon her.Further damage.She knew for certain then that he was all too aware of the spurious rumors the baron had been spreading about her to everyone who would listen.
She should have said something to that. Something to defend herself. Something to correct his assumptions about her. Assumptions she had likely just enhanced by her unspeakably forward conduct.
But in the end, she said nothing. It did not matter, after all. She had only kissed him to strike him off the list. She curtseyed and then fled. By the time she nearly collided with her sister, her heart was almost back to its normal, even pace.
Only her burning lips and the memory of the earl’s mouth on hers remained.
Chapter Three
The library atAbingdon House was immense. Two stories, lit with floor-to-ceiling mullioned windows at one end and warmed by the cheerful comfort of a massive stone hearth at the other, it was just the sort of place one hid one’s self at a country house party. Especially when the rest of the guests were otherwise occupied and when the gentleman in need of hiding was boiling in a scalding pot of his own shame.
In his distress, Cam had paced the length of the library at least a dozen times. He had scoured the shelves for distraction and found none which could sufficiently serve such a purpose.
Reasoning all the tomes on the first floor were histories, Latin, and religious treatises, he had gone upstairs. The second level held no more diversion than the first had. Now, he was pacing a different carpet with the same set of worries weighing upon him.
Because he had done the unthinkable.
He had kissed the Winter with the worst reputation. The one who had worn the red evening gown. The lively, beautiful one with warm, brown eyes that deepened to molten chocolate after she had been kissed. The one with the full lips and the charming brunette curls that fluttered over her face when the wind blew. The Winter who liked gardens and libraries and who had allowed that despicable blighter Cunningham untold liberties.
The notion of the baron having touched her first ought to have been enough to send him running in the opposite direction. It should have made his only response to the sudden press of her lips to his in the garden a hasty step in retreat.
Yes, he should have ended it before it had begun. One did not go about kissing unwed ladies in gardens. One did not go about kissing unwed ladiesat all. Kisses and passions and lust decidedly lived in the realm occupied by a gentleman’s mistress.
Not that he had one. He and Cecily had parted ways months ago when he had been unable to afford to keep her in the home and jewels she required. Perhaps that was the problem.
Mayhap going so long without bedding a woman had rendered him incapable of determining right from wrong. For surely, he would never have reacted in such a fashion to a woman like Miss Eugie Winter, who was bold and improper and altogether the opposite of what he wanted in a wife.
He would never have kissed her back if he…
Oh, Christ.He passed a hand over his face. Who was he fooling? Yes, he would have. Even with a hundred Cecilys warming his bed, he would have. He would always kiss Miss Eugie Winter back. Because she was beautiful, and she forgot to tie her bonnet in place, and she was daring. Because she held her head high when every room in which she stood abounded with whispers.
He was still pacing when the library door clicked open and the sound of feminine giggles reached him. He stopped, mid-stride, wondering if there was an assignation about to take place below.
Sweet Lord, please no.
“Do you not think Dev will notice we are missing?” asked a female voice he recognized all too well. After all, it had only been a scant few hours since he had last heard it.
Eugie.
An indelicate snort followed her question. “He is far too occupied making eyes at Lady Emilia to notice we exist,” said her companion, presumably one of her sisters.
Eugie sighed. “Thank heavens. I find myself growing weary of all this nonsense. Why does he not simply have us all stand in the great hall and accept the winning bidder for each of our hands?”
“Do not suggest such a thing to him, I beg you,” said her sister, though which Winter sister it was, he could not say. “Tomorrow morning, we shall all be trotting out to the great hall to await our miserable fates, no better than the heads of all the wretched animals hanging from the walls.”
That was rather a grim notion of matrimony, he thought, frowning to himself as he edged nearer to the railing lining the upper floor of the library. The floor creaked. Of course, it did. He stopped, holding his breath, hoping he remained sufficiently out of sight from below.
“Did you hear that?” Eugie asked her sister. “It sounded as if there was someone walking above. Do you suppose we are not alone?”
He moved backward, avoiding the loud floorboard and blending with the shadows as he heard the ladies below move about.
“You see?” The sister’s voice was triumphant. “There is no one there. Everyone is occupied with charades.”
“I did not see Lord Hertford,” Eugie said quietly.
