Frustration rose in her chest, welcomed by her for it erased some of the other less appropriate feelings he engendered in her. “You tease about those things as if they won’t affect my sister’s future.”
“Idotake your sister’s future seriously.”
Another brief image of him rising above her, driving into her with all his passion came into her head and she snorted at the discordance of his words and what he’d been doing just a week before.
Suddenly he looked very serious, indeed. His gray-blue eyes darkened. “Do you have something to say to me, Mrs. Manning? Because that sound and the expression that goes along with it feels extremely personal.”
“Alice is my sister. That makeseverythingpersonal to me.”
“I meant personaltowardme,” he said, and leaned back. She could breathe a little more easily with the increased distance. “I know I’ve earned my reputation. Even if some of the stories are exaggerated, they come from a place of truth. And I’m—I’m not always proud of that.”
She tilted her head. He sounded sincere when he said that. Almost torn. For a moment, she felt for him.
“But—” he continued, “I do intend to take care of my wife. To ensure she’s as happy as she can be.”
That should have soothed her but somehow it stung. She knew why and refused to acknowledge it or let inappropriate thoughts of this man enter her mind further as they talked.
“But what about other women?” she pressed.
His eyes widened. “I don’t know what your marriage was like. Your sister implies it was a happy one.”
She bent her head. It was so odd to discuss this with Lockhart when they’d had even more intimate discussions about her past that he didn’t even recall. “Well, I’ve always protected my sister.”
He was quiet a moment and his tone was gentler when he said, “I see. Men of our sphere, they often have mistresses. They often do not give much of a care about if their wives know their activities.” There was something sour in his words, dark. “But I don’t intend to do that.”
“No?” She was surprised by that statement when she pondered what she knew of him, what she’d experienced with him, and the fact that she didn’t think he’d ever even said Alice’s name.
“I’d like to be better than how I was raised.” His voice was rough and he gripped his hands against his thighs with those words.
She thought of how she’d watched the Earl and Countess of Pembrooke interact in the last two days. They were polite to each other, but there wasn’t much warmth between them, even though Lady Pembrooke was very warm at her core. When she saw Lockhart with her, though, the two of them seemed close. He was always watching his mother, assisting her.
A few more pieces of the measure of this man fell into place and there was an intimacy to that. A connection like she’d felt when they lay in that bed together, when she’d felt comfortable enough with him to tell him a little of the story of her pain.
If he were being honest about these intentions he declared, she realized that meant the night in London had likely been a last night for him. A final excursion for the rake before he put on the moniker of decent husband. Did that make what had happened between them better or worse? She didn’t even know anymore.
She swallowed. “Well, you seem the kind of man who could do anything he put his mind to.”
He smiled once more andtherewas a flash of the rake in the expression, not dead in truth. And it made her toes curl in her slippers to see that. “I hope I can.”
She leaned forward, but before they could continue the conversation, Alice came into the library. Both Lily and Lockhart turned toward her, getting to their feet. Guilt rushed through her at being caught this way, but Alice’s face lit up with pleasure at finding them together.
“Oh, you are both here. Were you comparing books? Lily is a great reader, my lord.”
He glanced at Lily one last time before he stepped toward Alice. “Are you, as well?” he asked.
Alice laughed and smiled at Lily over his shoulder. “Not nearly as much. I do enjoy some books, though. Not anything too serious, of course.”
There was a flutter to his cheek and he inclined his head. “Well, you’ll have plenty to choose from here at my parents’ house and at my…atourhomes in London or in the country. I am also a great reader.” He glanced at the clock on the mantel. “But we will be late for the gathering. May I take you, Miss Westinghouse?”
Alice nodded and took the arm he offered. He began to lead her out, but at the door he cast his glance back at Lily. She could have told herself he was just making sure she was following, but their eyes met briefly and it wasn’t just that. She could feel it. So she dropped her gaze and didn’t let him see that what they’d talked about meant something to her.
That she wished things were different, but knew they never could be.
CHAPTER9
George hadn’t ever been one to focus endlessly on his troubles. Part of the joy of being a rake was that one was meant to play off anything serious. He’d always been good at doing just that, it was part of the mask he wore. But not now. Right now his problems and worries seemed to be turning into a wave and they threatened to wash over him and perhaps even drown him at last.
His intentions when he spoke to Lily in the library were to allay her worries, and in the process put an end to the confusion she created in him. But it hadn’t worked. Instead, the spark of connection that had been borne when he told her things he normally kept to himself had only made him even more confused. And guilty. He felt guilty for a great many things.
