Her chin notched upward. “Initially? Yes. You’d humiliated me. You could’ve ruined me. You made me feel like nothing and I needed to prove it wasn’t true.”
The bold honesty in her explanation sent frissons of denial through his body. He wanted to defend himself against her words, but he knew they were true. It didn’t matter what reason he had for his behavior that evening, he’d been thoughtless and careless in his reaction to their unexpected encounter. Her anger toward him was justified, but there was a note of regret in her voice.
“I did not expect…I did not intend for this,” she admitted softly.
Ralston stared at her, noting the tension filling her lovely form, the flush of her skin, the glistening of her lips, and the swift pulse at her throat.
“You did not expect to ache as I do,” he murmured, knowing it was true. “Needas I do.”
She closed her eyes and gave a hard shake of her head, but the denial was pointless.
“You are a distraction,” she insisted, a subtle trembling in her words. “One I cannot afford. We are done here.”
She barely finished speaking before she turned on her heel and left the room. Left him.
He let her go.
But it wasn’t over. Whatever held her back, he’d discover it and overcome it. Because he wanted her. In this room or beyond it. Beneath him or atop. She’d forged something between them. Something that had become anchored deep into his being. And he wasn’t going to pretend it hadn’t changed absolutely everything.
Chapter Seventeen
Charlotte could onlyfeign illness for so long. After three days, her aunt had become reasonably suspicious about her continued excuses to avoid leaving the house. And she hated that she’d become so cowardly that she chose to hide herself away when she still hadn’t made any progress on what had brought her to London in the first place.
She couldn’t spend every darkened hour reliving everything that had happened—andalmosthappened—in that private room of the Lyon’s Den. No matter how delicious and tormenting the memories may be.
She’d allowed her emotions and uncertainties to take too much hold. She’d allowed things with the marquess to go too far and she needed to recommit to her purpose. She was here to avenge the pain and rejection her mother had not deserved. That was all that mattered.
When she finally emerged from her bedroom one morning three days after her last encounter with the marquess and declared herself recovered from the “illness” that had been plaguing her, her aunt eyed her with a dubious expression. But the countess recovered quickly enough and immediately set about deciding what invitation to accept for the evening. Shedecided on a dinner party at the home of a slightly aged earl who’d been a close friend of Lady Henmere’s deceased husband.
“Don’t worry, dear. The evening will be a simple gathering of friends, not the marriage mart you’ve become accustomed to. You’ve been thrusting yourself into the fray these last weeks. No doubt it had a hand in your recent illness. It’s time to enjoy a more relaxed night out, I think.”
Charlotte was grateful until the countess added that their host was a widower looking for a young wife and he met all her qualifications. Certainly, there was no point wasting an opportunity if she wished to acquaint herself with the gentleman.
Even though she had only just recommitted herself to her plan, Charlotte experienced a twist of discomfort in her stomach. It felt like guilt. As if she were about to betray someone.
Damn Redington!
She wished she’d never fallen into his path. Wished she had no idea what his skin smelled like, what the grip of his hands felt like on her skin, what his tongue tasted like or how his kiss made her body feel like molten need. And worse! She hated knowing how his expression darkened with purpose when he talked of his responsibilities and how intently he’d dedicated himself to a role he’d never chosen. He really was honorable to a fault and she couldn’t help but admire him for it.
And though her last conversation with Mrs. Dove-Lyon kept running through her mind, she knew she could never reconsider the Marquess of Redington for that position. There was too much between them. And there was too much at stake. For him especially. His dedication to his family was a deeply woven part of who he was. He would need to marry a woman from an impeccable family and of a social station equal to his own. It was his duty to make an exceptional match, and he would never renege on his responsibilities. Which meant that the onlyway she could ever aspire to such a position would be through deception and manipulation. The idea of using him in such a way made her ill.
Apparently, she wasn’t quitethatmercenary.
Nor was she willing to give up on her plan. She needed a wealthy husband if she was to succeed.
The only option for her was to forget the Marquess of Redington existed.
No matter how impossible the task proved to be.
At least there was no reason for him to be anywhere near the Earl of Gresham’s intimate dinner party.
And yet…she saw him the moment she walked into the pre-dinner reception. He stood at the far end of the drawing room, hands clasped behind his back in a properly neutral posture as he engaged in conversation with another older gentleman.
In an instant, her body thrilled with a terrifying rush of sensation. It was yearning and need and admiration and regret all tumbled into one. It stopped her breath and jolted through her heart. Thank goodness she was a half-step behind her aunt and the woman didn’t notice her reaction. It took several seconds for Charlotte to feign an outward composure she didn’t feel.
She followed her aunt to a group of middle-aged ladies seated on a group of sofas and chairs. After the countess finished introducing her to those she hadn’t met yet, then took a seat amongst them, Charlotte remained standing. And though she tried to find something—anything—else of interest in the room to attach her focus, her gaze was continually lured back to the marquess.
His attention was still occupied by the other gentleman, so Charlotte took an opportunity to observe him in a way she had never done before. On any of their prior encounters, she had always been too preoccupied with her own reactions to theman to fullyseehim in this environment. In doing so now, she immediately noted something unexpected. It was discomfort. Subtle and carefully controlled.
