“Blindfolds off.” Her voice came out lower than she expected.
As everyone slipped the silk from their faces, Rhoda couldn’t help but look over to the man she’d been licking like one of Gunter’s Ices. Kneeling now, he met her gaze squarely.
He gave nothing away. What was he thinking? Was he angry? Disappointed in her? Shocked? The man possessed an uncanny ability to conceal thoughts and emotions.
But then her eyes dropped to his hands, casually clasped together on his lap. There was one thing he wasn’t quite so talented at concealing.
Justin had been a rule follower for most of his life. Rules existed to maintain order. Order protected the fabric of society. Society, well, society didn’t always conform to rules or order.
So, when he’d listened to the rules of the game, and then later been selected to act as beast to Miss Rhoda Mossant, he’d already worked out the notion that the person did not need to be sitting in his chair to demand the maiden’s kiss.
He could reveal something of his feelings, in a most respectful manner, by requesting the maiden’s kiss for himself.
Which was exactly what he did.
Except that he’d angered her somehow. He’d seen it on her face just after making his request.
Had she wanted to kiss Blakely so badly? Was that it? He’d known that was her direction when she’d placed those cool, feminine fingers upon his shoulders.
But he’d already decided upon his course of action.
When those same fingers began dragging sensually through his hair, he’d found himself tempted to…
He couldn’t even think about it.
At this moment, he needed to focus on anything but Miss Mossant’s attributes.
He reached up and tugged at his earlobe. By God, she’d bitten him.
She’d not drawn blood, of course, but she’d…
Think of something else, anything else. Kneeling, he could rest one arm across the front of himself, but if he were to stand right now, it could be rather embarrassing. A cold swim. Dead fish. The sickly-sweet flavor of Ratafia… But Ratafia was often a dark red, much like the lips of the woman who’d recently sat atop him.
Much like the lips of the lady eyeing him suspiciously.
“My duchess and I had best retire. Our little lady Harriette tends to make the nights rather short on occasion.” Prescott rose, his hand firmly clasping that of his duchess.
Babies.
Clouts.
There we go.Justin planted one foot on the carpet and pushed himself to stand.
“Oh, but we haven’t all had turns yet,” said young Miss Coleus Mossant.
Her older sister shushed her. “It’s been a long day. We’ll play games again, I’m quite certain of it.”
What kind of games? Justin casually sauntered over to the bowl in which the duchess had placed all the folded-up pieces of paper to draw from. Picking one of them up, he was not surprised in the least.
Blank.
I Did It
Rhoda stepped out of Emily’s chamber and closed the door. She pressed her back against the heavy oak and closed her eyes.
It was unbelievable, really.
Emily had asserted most adamantly that Lord Blakely was willing to marry her! He would elope with her—as a twisted form of revenge against his father.
