Why would the daughter of a duke resort to such extreme measures?
He had to know.
“If I’m to be relegated to a platonic marriage for all my days, then I want to at least taste pleasure before my future is decided.” She lifted a delicate shoulder, her gaze flickering up to meet his.
“What a lovely picture you paint, yet I find it hard to believe that a betrothal to your acquaintance would be platonic. Unless the gentleman prefers his own kind?” He arched a brow, stepping forward, lazily reaching out and tracing a single finger up her arm.
“For learning much, you have seen little,” Liliah replied, her tone soft. Her body gave a delicate shudder.
And his body hardened painfully.
He needed to step back, regroup, retreat—yet he had never done such before.
And against his better judgment, he took a small step forward.
“Meaning?” he asked.
“You’ve ascertained that I’m all but betrothed to a friend, true, but that certainly isn’t the trial of which I’m speaking. It goes deeper. Lord Heightfield, what do you know of loyalty?” she whispered, leaning into his touch as his hand cupped her shoulder possessively.
“Not much.”
She sighed, only it wasn’t a sigh of pleasure but of impatience. “You misunderstand. Loyalty to friends. You must understand that idea, for do you not have a friendship with Viscount Kilpatrick?”
Lucas paused, nodding once. “Continue.”
“Would you steal away the one thing he lived for, simply because it was expected of you?”
Lucas released her shoulder and took a step back. “No.” Frowning, he tried to follow her train of thought.
“Then you’ll understand why my potential marriage to Meyer will never be more than a scrap of paper.” Liliah breathed.
The gears in his mind clicked into place. “Lady Rebecca.”
“Indeed.”
The evening’s events suddenly shifted, adding up into a scene that caused him to wince slightly. Indeed it was unfortunate, he could see that.
But it still was not his problem.
“And why am I part of this melodrama? What do I have to gain from . . . assisting you?”
Pleasure, satisfying my curiosity, feeding my lust.
“My silence, and my word to never darken your door,” she answered, leveling her shoulders as her chin lowered in a regal regard.
It wasn’t enough. It shouldn’t tempt him.
He could easily leave the ballroom, never think of her again . . . yet part of him took pause in the tenacious nature he’d uncovered in Lady Liliah Durary.
He had the sneaking suspicion that while not dangerous, she could easily be a pain in the arse.
And he needed to eliminate problems, not add to them.
His gaze raked over her.
Bedding her wouldn’t be a challenge.
He even doubted if her inexperience would be dull; rather she would probably be a quick learner.
