Or wouldn’t live much longer, anyhow, if he were to make a reappearance.
Justin opened the door to the duke’s liquor cabinet and poured two snifters of brandy. Rhoda would need something to calm her nerves. What a night!
She’d kissed him.
He’d thought he’d died and gone to heaven when she’d placed her fingers along his face. She’d touched him in wonder, almost. And then he had, in fact, experienced heaven on earth when those soft lips of hers settled upon his. Lips he’d longed to taste for months now.
She’d come to him. She’d trusted him. And God help him, she’d wanted him. For a moment, she’d wanted him and needed him the way he’d wanted her since the moment they met.
And he was beholden to offer for Miss Goodnight in the morning.
What a mess. What a sodding blasted mess.
His hand brushed hers as she took the snifter from him.
“Have you tasted brandy before?” Somehow, he thought that she had.
She smiled secretly over the glass as she tilted it to take a sip. She had. Of course, she had. God, this woman…
He took his seat beside her again, close enough so that they touched, through his breaches, through her skirts. Her aura tugged at him. Could he consider himself free for a few more hours? He might be, but that didn’t mean he was free to compromise another woman.
“Tell me about this betrothal of yours, with Blakely. Explain to me why it’s so complicated. Surely, it isn’t more complicated than this?” He waved a hand between the two of them. Perhaps if she spoke of her upcoming marriage to another man he’d stop focusing on the warmth of her thigh. Perhaps if she told him the details of her planned elopement, he’d stop leaning closer to capture the scent of her perfume.
It wasn’t the same on Miss Goodnight. He should have known. The scent was different on Rhoda. It was spicier, warmer.
She cringed. By God, she cringed. “I imagine we’ll be leaving soon. Now that Emily’s future is settled.”
“Excuse me?”
“I told her I wouldn’t elope until she…” As though suddenly realizing who she was talking to, she trailed off, looking ashamed.
At her words, his heart dropped. Had Rhoda conspired with Miss Goodnight? Had Miss Goodnight worn the perfume intentionally?
The look on her face confirmed his suspicions. Hadn’t Blakely warned him about marriage-minded misses? He ought to have listened to the man. Except… “Did the two of you conspire against Blakely as well?”
A cold black sensation gripped his heart.
Miss Mossant’s gaze dropped to her lap. He nearly felt ill. Justin had all but fallen in love with a conniving liar. Ironic that he could ignore what she’d done with St. John, believe the best of her where a man’s death was concerned, but for her to have lied to him… For her to have conspired with her friend against him…
He rose from his seat tiredly. “I’ll escort you to your chamber then.” She glanced up with apologetic eyes. God, those eyes. The depths of her gaze nearly overwhelmed the disappointment running through his veins.
She stood, and he gestured for her to precede him out the door. He didn’t want her to take his arm. He didn’t want to touch her. It bothered him that his body craved her despite what he’d learned. Even now, his eyes devoured the delicate curve of her shoulders, her slim waist, and flared hips. And now that he’d held her in his arms, tasted her kiss, he burned for more.
Change in Plans
Despite being relieved of her guilt over Dudley Scofield, Rhoda climbed into bed sick at heart.
She’d kissed him. He’d held her in his arms as she’d told him everything. He’d seen reason where she never had. And Prescott said they’d never recovered a body.
But then she’d gone and admitted the plan she and Emily had devised. Even though Rhoda hadn’t come up with the specific details for Emily to compromise Lord Carlisle, she’d certainly pushed her in that direction.
He’d looked at her differently the moment he learned the truth. He’d pulled away and then addressed her formally once again.
As though they’d never been together in the chapel.
Rhoda buried her head in her pillow.
Tomorrow, he would offer for Emily. He’d offer because of his honor. Because he was that sort of man. Perhaps it was best that he hate her.
