Clio rattled off her address without thinking. She didn’t miss the raised brow of Lieutenant General Grey.
Yes, I live in Mayfair, Mr I’m-so-much-better-than-you. One doesn’t need a title to have an esteemed address.
But that thought was quickly followed by another.
Blast. I should have told her to contact me through All Things Bright and Beautiful.
An invisible string running from the back of Clio’s neck down her spine tightened. Lieutenant General Grey now knew where she lived. Not that it mattered. He was hardly going to pay her any visits.
‘I’m so looking forward to knowing you better, Miss Blair. By the by, shouldn’t we dispense with such formalities? If you’re pretending to be our cousin, we’re practically family. Please call me Cynthia. And I shall call you Clio.’
Heat washed over Clio, colouring her cheeks pink. Family was a sacred thing. Hers was a close-knit group that only included her aunt, sister, cousin, and Uncle Lachlan. She couldn’t fathom so easily incorporating a stranger into their tight circle. ‘I, um. Yes. Well.’
‘She is hardly family. We don’t even know her.’ Clio was amazed Lieutenant General Grey could enunciate so clearly with his teeth clenched together tighter than a clam holding onto its pearl.
‘We’d better get to know her if we plan on convincing Her Grace of this little ruse, Thomas.’ Cynthia might have been pointing out that butter was meant to be applied to toast. She deftly wound through the crowd, out the door, and paused on the street as she looked expectantly for her carriage. ‘You must come for supper this week, Clio. We’ll sort out our false history. And of course, you can’t keep referring to my brother as Lieutenant General Grey. Thomas might be too intimate, but certainly Grey should do.’
Oh my.
‘Cynthia, you go too far.’ Fire was Clio’s element, but it was Lieutenant General Grey who looked ready to combust.
Lady Burrows’ landau pulled up to the kerb. A footman in dark-green livery jumped down to set the step.
‘Oh, Thomas. I’ve only just started.’ She pulled Clio in for another hug. Sir Robin bobbed his head happily as Cynthia pressed a kiss against Clio’s cheek. ‘I’ll send an invitation for dinner. Until then, dear cousin, farewell.’ She turned to her brother. ‘Shall I give you a ride home?’
‘I’ll hail a cab.’
‘Suit yourself.’ And with that, Cynthia alighted and waved gaily out of the window as the carriage lurched into London traffic.
Thomas was quite certain he was in a nightmare. Miss Blair was standing on the crowded street, her raven composed and regal on her shoulder, her amber gaze both steady and disconcerting. If he woke up from this dark dream, she would disappear, and he wouldn’t be able to finish the argument they’d started in the carriage. It smouldered between them like a coal. He very much wished to blow on that ember and watch it burn. Almost as much as he wanted to watch her finish her cup of hot chocolate. So he didn’t pinch himself awake.
Seeing her savour that drink was the most erotic thing Thomas had ever witnessed. And he had seen a great many erotic things. It was a disconcerting thought he refused to entertain. No matter how easily Miss Blair sparked his desire.
My only desire is to be rid of her.
Yet instead of walking away, he stayed. ‘You will not call me Grey. Nor will I call you Cousin Clio, no matter what my sisterthinks.’ He snapped each syllable like crystallised caramel between his teeth.
She blinked slowly. Something bright and hot flashed in his periphery as the streetlamp next to him flared to life.
‘I can think of several names far more worthy of you.’ Her voice was soft, but her words were harder than steel. ‘Blackguard for one. Arrogant prig for another.’
The nerve of this woman!
Stepping closer, he leaned down to better hold her fiery gaze. ‘Careful, madame. I am a gentleman, but I can still be pushed past my limits.’
Sharp laughter scratched down his spine like a nail, tightening his skin and sparking heat along his nerves. ‘What would you do if I gave you one hard shove over that line,Grey?’ She drew out his name like a curse. Perhaps that explained why it was suddenly hard to breathe.
Miss Blair’s carriage rolled up, and the footman hopped out, holding the reins for her.
Thomas moved into her path, blocking her escape. The raven cawed a warning, but she had stoked something within him too hot to control.
‘Don’t play with fire, Miss Blair. It will singe you.’
She narrowed her gaze, her thick lashes framing golden eyes. ‘Fire doesn’t frighten me, Grey. Neither do you.’
Lightning cracked, the sky split open, and heavy raindrops fell like a curtain.
‘Arrogance and courage are not the same thing. If you come with us on this debacle of a house party, there won’t be anywhere to hide.’
