Chapter Four
Guilt was amonster with gaping maws, threatening to swallow him whole. But Ash would be damned if he would allow it. All he needed was distraction. Distraction accompanied by a dash of brandy.
Instead of brandy and distraction, he found Miss Prudence Winter.
In the library. It was half past one in the morning, and the moon was a silver glow in the brilliant blackness of the night sky. No one was supposed to be about. He had thought the entire company was abed.
The glow beneath the door had warned him, as he had approached, that he would not be alone. But he had entered anyway, thinking instead to find another gentleman within, similarly seeking to find solace in their host’s book collection and brandy stores. Yet, the figure, illuminated by a lone brace of candles settled upon a table within, could not be mistaken.
Her back had been turned but at his entrance, she whirled about to face him, her dark hair unbound and tumbling down her shoulders.Lord God, she was wearing nothing more than a virginal nightdress with a dressing gown belted atop it. His mouth went dry.
He forgot how to speak.
Miss Prudence Winter, however, suffered from no such affliction.
“Lord Ashley,” she snapped, irritation quivering in her lush voice. “Is that you?”
What the devil sort of greeting was that? He ought to be insulted. He could recognize her easily in the darkness. Indeed, he was reasonably certain he would know her anywhere, even in nothing but the moonlight with no candle at all to illume the way.
Especiallyin the moonlight, said the wickedest part of him.
His prick was already twitching to life.
He moved toward her, drawn as the bee to a blossom.
“It is indeed I, Miss Winter,” he said, happy to see her in spite of himself.
Though mere hours had passed since he had seen her at dinner, and only a scant few more hours before that when he had been alone with her in the salon—when he had kissed her—he was pleased to see her once more now. Genuinely pleased. And not because he wanted to kiss her again, or because she had been the source of his every morning cockstand since his arrival at Abingdon Hall—which she most certainly had—but because he found her company enjoyable. He liked the dulcet sound of her voice. He liked her flashing eyes and her quick wit. He even enjoyed the way she eviscerated him with her sharp tongue.
A tongue he wished he could put to other uses, it was true.
Blast, he really must think of something else now…
“Have you followed me yet again?” she demanded, sounding outraged.
Not this time, he could have said.
“I am innocent of all charges laid against me,” he told her instead, grinning.
Damn it, he had to stop this. Because he had already kissed her. And he could not do so again. Not when Gill was still intent upon taking her as his bride. He never had discovered what had been bothering his brother earlier in the day. Thankfully, Gill had not suspected what Ash had been about.
They had chatted about horseflesh. The intolerable cold. The ladies in attendance.
Gill had once more expressed his belief that the eldest Winter would make an excellent duchess. And the point could not be argued. She was lovely, calm, and handled herself with ladylike aplomb. Except for the matter of her kissing other gentlemen and secreting bawdy books…
But he hadn’t had the heart to bring up the subject with Gill. And as a result, the guilt was only growing more pronounced by the moment. Rivaling Ash’s lust.
What a pathetic arse he was.
“I daresay you have not been innocent since you were a babe,” Miss Winter countered.
She was not wrong.
He pressed a hand to his heart, as if she had wounded him. “I am insulted, Miss Winter, that you think so ill of me. Particularly when you are no angel yourself.”
Her eyes widened as he strode even nearer, not stopping until he could touch her. He could so easily draw an arm around her waist and pull her against him. But he did not.
“What are you suggesting, Lord Ashley?” she asked.
