But what else could she be hiding?
He almost wished he’d never met her. Almost. If he’d never met her, he might sleep more peacefully. Dark eyes and sensual lips wouldn’t taunt him in his dreams. He’d not awaken holding himself, imagining creamy thighs spread beneath him.
Her very essence tempted him. He had a desire to protect her but more than that. He wanted to possess her, in all the ways a man ever could.
God help him, but he wanted to take her into his arms. He wanted to stop her lips from trembling by covering them with his own.
He’d found other women attractive; he hadn’t lived a chaste life, as many chose to believe. But his feelings for Miss Rhododendron Mossant nearly overwhelmed him. Since the day he’d met her.
And he didn’t understand exactly why.
She tore her gaze from his and stared across the garden. Such perfection, he thought as he studied her profile. And yet, her beauty was only part of it.
“I’m going to disappoint everyone,” she stated with far too much conviction.
He could not help himself. Lifting one hand, he turned her chin so that she had no choice but to meet his gaze again, thankful he’d left off his gloves this evening. The tips of his fingers registered skin as soft as a butterfly.
“Is there something else?” he had to ask. Her lashes fluttered as she seemingly blinked away tears but shook her head nonetheless. Therewassomething else. “I want to help you, if you’ll allow me.”
She shot off the bench. “I… I…” Looking everywhere but at him, she could not hide her distress. “There’s no need. You cannot! Won’t you let me alone, please? You’re no longer a vicar, are you? It’s not necessary for you to seek out my confession.”
Justin simply watched her. Dear Lord but something tormented this woman. “I won’t seek it out.” His voice halted her. “But I’m here… if you change your mind.”
She shook her head again, hesitantly this time though, and then made her escape.
Justin’s gaze fixed on the path she’d taken long after she disappeared.
When he’d first met her, at Priory Point, just before Harold’s death, she’d been a vibrant, carefree woman. His attraction to her had been instantaneous. Watching Miss Mossant back then, he’d been forced to suppress the desire to request permission to court her. He’d not had any choice. St. John had been squiring her around town for over a month by then. A gentleman simply did not pay his addresses to his cousin’s… lady friend.
Justin had been plagued with irritation at his cousin, for he’d known that, as a marquess, St. John merely toyed with her. Luke’s intentions toward her had been dishonorable from the beginning.
If only he’d died without blathering of his conquest first. Miss Mossant and her family could have moved forward, grieving, of course, but all the better for their loss.
Less than a year had passed since the tragic accident that had claimed three lives, the former duke, the duke’s brother, and his heir, leaving Prescott to pick up the pieces. The duchess had suffered greatly—as had Sophia and Dev. At least they’d found solace in each other.
Justin rose from the bench and strode toward the house. With St. John gone, he’d have thought Miss Mossant might be somewhat approachable. He’d hoped to have the freedom at last to follow his urges. He’d have liked to take her driving, woo her… And despite his physical needs, he fully intended to act honorably.
With every attempt to gain her attention, she’d thwarted him.
In fact, she seemed more unattainable than ever.
Evening Entertainment
“Let’s play a parlor game!” The resplendent meal had passed uneventfully and after biding half an hour over their port, the gentlemen had finally deigned to rejoin the ladies.
Rhoda and Sophia had decided that Emily was going to need some pushing in order to land herself a husband. She only hoped all of this didn’t have the opposite effect. Sophia met her gaze from across the room with a spark of mischief behind her own.
“But not Charades,” Rhoda returned, playing her part. “Something new! Something fast!” Her mother and Hollyhock had retired for the evening, leaving Emily, Sophia, Rhoda, and Coleus downstairs with Prescott and three equally available bachelors.
Rhoda had been more than a little amazed to see that Emily had actually upheld her promise to leave off her spectacles. Although not a raving beauty, Emily looked sweet and inviting and… pretty tonight. And, when she smiled, as she was doing now—Rhoda swallowed hard—shedidlook beautiful. Of course, Rhoda had known all along how truly wonderfully gorgeous her bluestocking of a friend could be. She delighted in the fact that the gentlemen seated beside her seemed to see it as well.
Even if one of them did happen to be her earl—scratch that,nother earl—the Earl of Carlisle.
Emily deserved to marry somebody wholesome and good. She most definitely did not deserve the fate her mother promised if she failed to become betrothed.
But if Emily did somehow manage to land a husband then… Rhoda glanced toward Marcus Roberts, the Earl of Blakely. Such a smug, self-satisfied man. Yes, precisely what she herself deserved.
Rhoda wondered if Emily had spoken with him yet aboutthe plan.
