And just as she had that thought there was a knock on her chamber door. Her shoulders hunched and she let out a long sigh. Who was coming to bother her now?
She trudged to the door and opened it. To her shock, it wasRoderick there waiting for her. Her breath became nonexistent as she looked him up and down. He had stripped out of his jacket and rolled his sleeves to his elbows. She stared at the definition of his forearms for a moment, an odd tingle in her body at the sight of his bare skin. She wasn’t meant to see that and yet she couldn’t look away.
She did just that and jerked her gaze to his face instead. Unfortunately it offered her no respite from inappropriate thoughts. With the dim light from the hallway behind him, he was mostly shadow. Like a fallen angel here to offer temptation. To what, she wasn’t certain. But it didn’t feel proper.
It was in that moment she realized she was in her dressing gown and tugged it tighter around herself. “You—you shouldn’t be here.”
He inclined his head. “Likely not. But you and I need to have a conversation, preferably before the wedding that is barreling down upon us, and I doubt we’ll be left alone for any length of time until then.”
She pursed her lips. He wasn’t wrong on either account. Her parents would swoop in with all the protection in the world now to ensure this union happened. “But this is my room. My bedchamber.”
“I’m well aware.” His voice was suddenly lower, smokier and a ripple went up her spine at the change.
She chose to ignore that feeling even though her cheeks flamed. “Propriety?—”
He sighed. “Yes, yes, I know. Propriety. Please let me come in. We’re more likely to be caught if I’m standing in the hallway. I promise I have no intention of violating the rules of propriety beyond this one.”
Could she trust that? She thought of how he’d put himself between her and the marquess earlier in the day. How gentle he’d been when the machinations of her parents had been revealed. He might be a great many things, but she didn’t think Roderick was the kind to force what wasn’t invited.
She stepped back and let him into the room. He looked around and her blush deepened, so she closed the door and then hustled pasthim. Anything to keep her back to him so she wouldn’t have to watch him analyze her life through her knickknacks and pictures and books. She could still feel him watching her, though. Almost like he was an inferno at her back.
“I believe in love,” he said.
She staggered to face him then, her mouth dropped open in the shock she couldn’t hide. “What?”
His face looked pained. “My mother and father, they truly loved each other. And they liked each other. I think they were each other’s best friend.”
Clarissa shivered at the thought of such a thing. She’d certainly not been raised in that manner. Her parents were scarcely anything to each other. In fact, she sometimes thought they might hate each other at the core of it. But the kind of union Roderick described was bewitching. The stuff of novels, not real life. And yet he said he believed in it.
“How—how did they meet?” she asked, and was surprised that her voice trembled.
His wobbly smile tugged something in her chest. “She entered an assembly in Bath and their eyes met and that was the end for them both. Love at first sight. Amongst their friends, the story was legendary. Told in either hushed tones or with rolled eyes. Either way, their connection was immediate and powerful and they were married within months.”
She nodded. “I see.”
But shedidn’tsee. She’d never imagined such an out-of-control notion before. That one could be stricken by emotion like one was by an illness or an accident.
“I always knew I’d have the same,” he continued, and rubbed a hand through his hair. It made the locks stand up here and there, the dishabille he didn’t seem to care about so opposite to her own attention to every detail of her dress, hair and way she held herself.
“I see,” she repeated softly, for he seemed to be waiting for an answer.
“Yes, I’ve been what some might call a rake,” he admitted. “I haven’t lived as a monk, but that wasn’t why I haven’t married yet. I simply knew that the moment the right woman came along, I would feel an immediate pull to her. A bolt from above that would practically light her from the heavens and let me know she wasthe one.”
She realized then what he was saying. Certainly he hadn’t felt such a thing with her. They’d barely tolerated each other for days and only declared a truce only for the sake of others. There had been nothing between them until he kissed her so unexpectedly in the library.
“You’ve lost that,” she whispered, and the guilt that accompanied the words was almost unbearable. She moved to her chair before the fire and settled into it to keep her trembling legs from being obvious.
He shifted. “I intended to be honest when I came to you, but I don’t wish to be cruel. Still, yes. I’ve lost the possibility of such a marriage now.”
“I am sorry, my lord.” She shook her head. “God, you will despise me eventually, won’t you?”
“That’s the last thing I want, Clarissa.” He moved to take the chair that was beside her own and sat on the edge so that his knees were close to hers. “I don’t want to hate you or have you hate me.”
She examined his face in the firelight. He looked so earnest in this moment. Like he was far more than he pretended to be, certainly more than she’d judged him to be on first sight. “I don’t want that either.”
“Good. Is that our first agreement?” He smiled a little.
She did the same, despite herself. “Othello,” she reminded him.
