“Pippa? Are you…oh!”
Her friend’s voice cut through everything, bringing Pippa hurtling headlong into the present and breaking her free of the spell that had seemed to fall over her. She jerked away from Northwich, hand over her kiss-swollen lips, and met Tilly’s wide-eyed gaze.
“Forgive me,” Tilly said, looking concerned as her eyes traveled from Pippa to the duke, then back again. “You had been gone for some time, and I wanted to be certain nothing was amiss.”
Everythingwas amiss.
“All is perfectly well,” she lied, hastening to increase the distance between herself and Northwich. “We were just returning to the dining room.”
Another lie.
But what was one more in a sea of so many?
Chapter 5
He never should have kissed her, damn it.
Dinner had been bloody unbearable before his lips had touched hers, but it had become damned impossible after. He had lingered for port and a brief chat with Hastings following the meal, but he had made his excuses hurriedly and gone home to wallow in his ever-growing sense of misery.
And stupidity.
He was in his exercise room now, working off his aggression, but no amount of stretches or lifting of weights could seem to remove the boulder from his chest. Whilst he did not ordinarily eat a meal and drink wine and then retire to this chamber for the evening, he had left Haddon House in such a froth that he had sought refuge in the one form of relief he had.
But not even the haven he had built in this room could free him from the grip of the past. He had not intended to pursue her for any reason other than an apology over his boorish behavior at dinner. From the moment he had been alone with her in the morning room, he had been drawn to her.
That same connection, that visceral spark, which had never dimmed nor sputtered out had roared into a raging flame. As he had crossed the Axminster to her side, he had been initially awash in shame over the paleness of her lovely face. He had hated that he had caused her pain with his callous words, and he had been intent upon remedying his error.
He lifted weights until his muscles ached, trying to replace the thoughts of her with something—anything—else. And then he stopped to splash cool water on his face, take a drink, blot the perspiration from his brow. He was just about to begin a second round when there was a knock at the door.
The hour was late, and he was not expecting callers. Tossing his towel aside, he straightened his shirt—no need to appear the beast before his servants, even if he felt like one tonight.
“Come,” he called.
Blaine, his butler, appeared. “Mrs. Shaw has arrived, Your Grace, requesting to see you. She appears to be in great agitation. I escorted her to the drawing room.”
Pippa was here. Agitated.
What the devil had happened to bring her to him? Unless she wished to berate him over his behavior? To take him to task for the kiss?
His legs were moving before his mind had time to properly form coherent thought. “Thank you, Blaine. I will see to her.”
His strides ate up the distance, and he could not deny that his heart was pounding as he reached her in the drawing room. As it had been when he had entered the morning room at Haddon House earlier, her back was to him. She spun to face him when he entered, her countenance stark with worry.
“I am sorry to intrude,” she said, which was his second hint she had not come to chastise him.
Her call had nothing to do with the kiss. He could see that quite plainly.
A new worry started in his gut. “You need not apologize. What brings you here at this late hour, Mrs. Shaw?”
She appeared so distraught that he could not provoke her. No need to refer to her asLady Philippathis evening.
“I…I would not have come to you, but I had gone to Haddon House first, and there were no lights at the windows. I did not wish to interrupt Tilly and her husband after their generous hospitality and after the hurt George caused for them…” Her words trailed off and she wrung her hands. “I should not have come here either, but I did not know where else to go.”
He stopped before her, taking her ungloved hands in his. “You may always come to me. What has happened to have you so agitated?”
“There was an intruder at my home,” she said, blinking furiously as tears filled her hazel eyes and studded her lashes. “My daughter and her nurse are awaiting me in the carriage. I could not leave them behind, for fear whoever is responsible is somewhere hidden within, or that he will return in the night.”
Her upset made sense. But an intruder? At her home? She lived in Mayfair. It hardly seemed likely. Unless…
