She heaved a sigh and thought some more. One came to mind, an old source of great shame. “I stole a ribbon once.”
“A ribbon,” he repeated, disappointment tingeing his voice. “I am afraid you will have to do better than that, Pru.”
“That is a shocking and horrifying secret I have never told another,” she argued. “I am horridly ashamed of my behavior to this day.”
“A ribbon,” he said again.
“Yes,” she countered, “a ribbon. I was at a milliner’s, ordering new hats with my sisters, and we were being shown such expensive accents, such glorious styles. It was my brother’s first attempt at making us respectable. One of the ribbons was the most beautiful shade of blue I had ever seen.”
Rather like Lord Ashley’s eyes.
She banished the thought and continued.
“It was a special, new dye. Quite rare and expensive, the milliner informed us. The finest silk ribbon. I decided I needed to have it,” she recalled grimly. “And I stuffed it into my reticule when no one was looking.”
The moment she had committed the sin, she had been horrified by what she had done. And yet, she had been too terrified to remove the ribbon. She had been terribly young at the time, dreadfully foolish also. To this day, she could not comprehend what impulse had made her stuff the ribbon inside her reticule. To take it when she could have paid for it a thousand times over.
“You are a thief, Pru,” he said.
“Yes,” she agreed, wresting her gaze from his handsome profile and turning it instead into the flames. “I am.”
“Do you have it still?” he asked, his tone considering.
“Do I have what?” she asked, flustered. From the elbow rubbing and the darkness and his beauty and the sharing of secrets.
One of her most shameful.
Truly, she had been hoping to never tell another soul about her ignominy, but something about sharing it with Lord Ashley felt oddly as if it lifted a weight from her shoulders.
“The ribbon,” he elaborated. “Do you still have the stolen ribbon? I must confess, I do like to think of perfectly prudent Pru being most imprudent, even if only once. Was it just the once, or were there other occasions?”
“It was just the once,” she said. “I have never stolen a thing in my life since that day. I still have no notion of what came over me.”
“Rebelliousness.” The lone, simple word in his deep baritone made a trill shoot straight through her. “You were tired of always doing what was proper, what was expected of you.”
She glanced back toward him, and this time, he had turned to give her his full attention as well. The effect was enough to make her breath catch. Part of her longed to acknowledge he was right. Part of her feared what it meant, this dangerous rakehell, knowing her so well.
Better than she knew herself.
“It was foolishness,” she corrected, doing her best to remind herself of all the reasons why she could not linger here with him.
Not for another second longer.
For if she did, the same impulse that had led her to steal that ribbon so long ago was bound to return and overcome her all over again.
“Pru,” he said, his voice a low rasp.
Pure seduction. He reached for her.
She stepped away, hugging herself. “I must go, my lord. Thank you for warming me by the fire, and for the pleasant conversation. But I dare not tarry here any longer.”
Without awaiting his response, she turned away and fled. Hurried across the library and into the empty corridor. She did not stop her flight until she had reached the safety of her chamber. As the door clicked closed behind her and she heaved a sigh of relief, it occurred to her that she had neglected to choose a book, as had been her initial intention.
It had not been the first time Lord Ashley Rawdon had made her forget what she was supposed to do. She had a rather damning feeling that it would not be the last, either.
