He stepped forward and enclosed it with his larger hand. And then he brought their locked hands to his lips, still looking at her, challenging her. “Can’t let you damage your hand, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips soft and warm against her knuckles. “Too lovely a bloom to be blemished...”
Lovely.
Ariana did the only thing she could and whacked his head with the newspaper. She put full force into it, but it was a feeble blow, especially left-handed. It shocked him enough to release her. He staggered back out of reach, and might have fallen if he’d not collided with the table heavily enough to move it a few inches.
“My apologies,” he said, regaining his balance and perhaps sobered. He stood straight and aimed those beautiful eyes at her, full of sorrow. “Forgive me my sins?”
Her heart did something odd, something only seventeen-year-old hearts should do. Ariana turned and fled the library before the madness became complete. She ran up to her room and sank into a chair with a moan.
Ethel hurried in. “What’s the matter?”
“He’s here! In the library!” Ariana couldn’t stop exclaiming. She felt as if her hair should be standing on end.
“Who’s here?”
“Kynaston!”
Ethel sat down nearby. “Why? Has he come to court you?”
Ariana sat up straight. “Never! Do you think...? No! He’s Lady Cawle’s nephew.”
“So she’s invited him, as one of your suitors.”
“No!” Ariana tried to make sense. “He’s disgustingly drunk. At this hour in the morning. And it doesn’t appear to be an unusual state. His cravat was hanging loose, his waistcoat was undone, and his hair hasn’t been tended to in months.”
“You’re sounding sorry for him.”
“I am not! It’s only that it seems a shame that someone with everything in life should sink so low.”
“No one has everything in life,” Ethel pointed out, “but that’s the way it goes with some overindulged gentlemen. Slave to drink, rotted with the pox.”
“Don’t...”
“You still sweet on him?”
“I wasneversweet on him,” Ariana protested, and it was true. Sweet had had nothing to do with it.
He had been magnificent back then. A god. A handsome, wealthy young earl, popular, gifted, and carelessly charming. How could she not have fallen under his spell?
She’d known he was dangerous and far beyond her touch, but...
But, if Lord Kynaston had shown any interest, she’d have melted into his arms. If her parents had tried to stop her, she’d have eloped with him and let the consequences go hang.
“What do the servants say about him?” Ariana asked.
“I don’t pay much heed to their chatter, but I’ll go and find out.”
Ethel left and Ariana slumped back in the chair, new horrors arising in her mind. Was it possible that she’d meet Kynaston morning, noon, and night? Thank heavens she’d be leaving in a few days, but that would be a few days too long.
Why was he here? An earl must have a town house of his own. Yet he’d said he didn’t. Perhaps it was too far away for him to stagger to in his drunken state, so he’d come to his aunt’s house instead? That didn’t make sense. If friends hadn’t seen him home, a hackney would have done the job. Whatever the reason, it was an impossible situation.
What to do?
What to do?
She rose to pace. Leaving immediately was impossible without explanation. If Lady Cawle let him stay, Ariana had no say in that. She could only continue as she’d begun. With indifference.
Trying to hit him hadn’t exactly been indifferent. He’d been behaving atrociously, but a properly behaved lady wouldn’t have tried to hit him with her fist.
