“I should go alone.” She held the burning tapers out in front of her, and he had the choice of either being burned or stepping back so she could enter the stairwell. “Best that you don’t escort me in case anyone was to see us together so late… like this.” She waved her free hand down her night rail. “I should have put on a gown. At least then I wouldn’t have looked so—what was I thinking?”
Simon clenched his jaw but followed behind her.
She turned back to him. “I’m fine, really. I come down here all the time by myself.”
He gestured for her to keep moving. But, quite frankly, as a butler or a duke, he wasn’t about to allow a young woman to go traipsing around a large house in the dark alone.
Knight Hall was her family’s residence, and the servants were considered trustworthy, but he was a gentleman. He would make sure she was safely ensconced in her chamber before going about his business.
When she didn’t move, Simon touched his hand to her elbow, expecting her to argue, her mouth parted as though ready to speak. When she looked at him, though, she must have seen something in his expression, for she exhaled instead and continued up the steps.
Neither of them said a word until arriving at her door. She was ashamed. Simon was reluctant to leave her feeling that way. The woman already carried an abundance of self-doubt.
He opened the door for her, and when she pressed inside, he entered as well.
She didn’t stop him or tell him to leave but strode across to her desk and placed the stand of tapers there. And then she spun around to face him. “You don’t have to… I don’t expect you…” She held her palms to her cheeks.
“I don’t expect anything,” Simon silenced her. “I merely wish to make sure you’re all right. Are you?”
“Of course.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“Oh, I know that! But I’m not the sort of woman who… I’ve never done anything like that.” She struggled to regain her composure. “Can we forget this happened?”
She sounded so forlorn, dropping her head forward.
“Is that what you want?” Simon asked.
Lifting her head, she met his gaze. “It is,” her voice sounded soft, barely more than a whisper. And yet, he’d wager his dukedom that what she really wanted was for him to take her into his arms again.
The bed was only a few steps behind her, an inviting coverlet pulled back, beckoning…inviting. She licked her lips.
If Simon kissed her now, the night would be pleasurable, indeed.
“Forget the kiss?” he said, not moving. “That’s what you want?”
She hesitated, indecision lurking in her eyes.
“I do.” She cleared her throat. “Yes.” Her answer held more confidence now.
“In that case…" Simon stepped back and bowed. “Goodnight, Miss Faraday.”
But as he returned to his own small chamber, her words echoed in his mind.
What the hell was I thinking?
Violet didn’t move for at least a full minute after the door closed behind him. Her body was still, but aching from denial. And her mind was in turmoil.
In less than twelve hours, she’d gone from being thoroughly suspicious of her cousin’s butler, wanting him sacked even, to propositioning the man, kissing him, and then taking it all back. She blew out the candles with a sigh.
He must think her a fickle tease.
Violet slipped off her dressing gown and climbed onto her tall bed. He’d told her he would forget what had transpired downstairs, but how was she going to face him again?
She tucked her feet beneath the sheets, which felt cool to the touch. Was that only because her blood raged hot inside?
Her thoughts roared.
