Monty angles himself closer to her, propping his elbow on the backrest. “I assure you, I would be a fully neutral test subject. I don’t do attachments, and I mean it. This isn’t one of your little books where love changes a man. I am incapable of love.”
I expect her to roll her eyes, but she elicits a gasp instead, then reaches toward the empty spot beside her. “Damn,” she mutters when her fingers come away empty once more.
“Did…did you just swoon, Miss Danforth?” Monty’s voice is rich with laughter.
Her shoulders slump. “It’s just…it’s exactly what one of my heroes would say, right before they settle down. I wanted to take a note of your words, but my notebook is in my carpet bag?—”
“Trust me, I’m not a hero.” There’s a somber note in his voice, reflected in the lack of mirth in his eyes.
Edwina shakes her head. “Back to the topic at hand. One I believe you misinterpreted. I wasn’t asking about what you liketo do with your lover, but more what makes you interested in a lover in the first place? What would make you want to take a woman you just met to bed?”
Monty tilts his head, expression thoughtful. “An eye patch,” he says. “A peg leg too.”
“Really?” Jolene stares at Monty, then exchanges a confused look with Edwina. “Why?”
“It makes me think she’d be willing to do things that arearrrrrgh-rated.”
I close my eyes with a groan and rub my brow. A fucking pirate joke.
“I don’t understand,” Edwina says.
“R-rated,” Monty says with a shrug.
“What does R-rated mean?”
“It stands for restricted,” I say, gathering my composure enough to speak with feigned disinterest.
Jolene nods emphatically. “It’s a new regulation placed on stage plays. Don’t you know?The Governess and the Rakewas the first to earn such a label. It’s the reason the regulation system was created.”
Edwina bolts upright, eyes wide. “Are you telling me there’s a play ofThe Governess and the Rake? And it was so inappropriate for the stage that it required the implementation of a special rating system?”
“Yes,” Jolene says.
Edwina gasps. “No.”
“It’s true.”
“No. Are you sure?”
“Yes, Weenie,” I say, tone firm. “She’s telling the truth.”
Edwina’s eyes lock on mine. The sweet, elated smile that curls her lips is so open, so genuine, it makes my chest feel tight. I know her smile isn’t for me. It’s for the stage play she apparently didn’t know existed. I open my mouth, about toconfess something else, something that might make that smile shine more firmly upon me, but I stop myself. William the Stage Actor may have performed in an adaptation ofThe Governess and the Rake, but William the Poet would never admit as much. William the Poet hates fiction. And romance.
Besides, why would I seek to make her smile?
The coach rolls to a stop. We’ve arrived at Hyperion University, and as we disembark from the coach to the cobblestone courtyard, the coachman saves me from having to aid Edwina’s exit. Thank fuck for that. The last thing I need is a repeat of earlier when I gawked at her, struck dumb as she sauntered into the coach wearing that damn top. My hand still feels warm where she touched it, and I don’t think I could maintain a straight face if she touched it again.
I force my full attention to the building before us, my gaze sweeping over the four-story dormitory lined with ivory columns and ending in a domed roof of blue tile. It’s the same dormitory I lived in during my four years at the university. Nostalgia settles over me, a mixture of longing, comfort, and the painful dissonance between a past and future forever divided by time.
Edwina and Jolene huddle close together, admiring the architecture as they head for the front doors. Daphne bounds after them, and Monty nearly does the same—before I stop him with a firm hand on his shoulder.
He faces me with an amused look. “Can I help you, Mr. Haywood?”
I step closer and lower my voice. “You will not touch Edwina.”
“I won’t?”
“It’s unprofessional,” I say, keeping my voice as level as I can. “You’re our tour manager and publicist. It’s a conflict of interest for you to start any kind of physical relationship with her.”
