Or a bedding.
Her ladyship was trying to compromise him, just as Gwendolyn had suspected.
The problem was... Gwendolyn’s reputation was far more fragile than his or Lady Rabron’s. And now, whether she liked it or not, she was involved. Her scratching at his door was certainly a mannerism of the hopping around different beds that was whispered to be common at house parties.
“Did you need me, Miss Lanscarr?” he asked as if they were standing in the library down the hall and not his bedroom. He reached for the door handle. “Very well. I will come with you,” he said as if she’d spoken. He opened the door and practically pushed her through it. He followed, taking her arm again. He marched her down the hall to the small library before he stopped. Some guests had been in there earlier, but now they were gone. Not even the porter was there to see Mr. Steele rush her into the room.
The room was dark save for the moon’s light through the window. It fell against the wall, highlighting the portrait of the musical youngwoman. He closed the door before releasing the breath he’d been holding. “Thank you—”
She cut him off. “You need to return and tell her that we did not have an assignation planned.”
He gave a small, unworried shrug. “I acted as if you needed my immediate attention.”
Gwendolyn made an impatient sound. “Do you truly believe Lady Rabron is so gullible? If so, you know nothing of the feminine character. That woman didn’t have bubbles for brains. She knew you were running, and she will blame me.”
“Because you needed my help?” he questioned densely.
“Because she will assume I was sneaking into your room for the same reason she was there. She’ll believe I stole you from her.”
“It wasn’t my attention she wanted. She was looking for a romp,” he assured Gwendolyn with cool dismissal—and something inside her snapped.
“MaybeI’mthe one with bubbles for brains,” she announced.
“Why do you say that?”
She took a step away from him, her eyes scanning the deep shadows of the bookshelves as she attempted to sort it all out. “She told me you asked for her hand.”
Silence met her words.
Gwendolyn waited. When he didn’t speak, she turned to him. Silvery light from the window hit the hard planes of his face, the breadth of his shoulders. Had her words turned him to stone?
“I did.” Another beat. “I didn’t—” he started, but she interrupted.
“Don’t tell me you have forgotten any of the feelings you must have once had for her? Marriage is an important step, sir. Don’t tell me you didn’t care for her. You aren’t that sort of man.”
He released his breath slowly as if just gaining the right of things. “I worshipped her,” he said.
Gwendolyn didn’t want to hear that. “Your sun and stars,” she said, repeating Lady Rabron’s words.
“So I thought. She had me convinced I mattered to her as well.” He shifted his weight, but he did not move toward Gwendolyn. “She rejected me, and I was humbled. Not for the first time. Not for the last.” He fell quiet and then added, “Satisfied? Is that what you wished to hear?”
“You don’t mention brokenhearted.” She turned her head, noticing the black binders of music on the bottom shelf. She focused on them, her own heart heavy and sad and peevish, her mind trying to sort out the reasons why.
“No. I overcame that. I alwaysovercome,” he stressed bitterly. “I wanted so much, Miss Lanscarr. I wanted roots and a feeling that I mattered, and that the future would be good. When Violet noticed me, all of that seemed possible.” He paused before concluding bitterly, “I wantedmorethan a mere romp. Iwantedsomeone to believe in me.”
Gwendolyn swung her gaze up to him. “I believe in you. You rejected me... without giving even the idea of us a chance. And there is something between us. You can’t deny it—”
She stopped, frowned. Then admitted, “You can deny it. You have.”
Her own culpability threatened to overwhelm her. Gwendolyn leaned over, stunned.
“Gwendolyn?”
She held up a hand to stave him off. She didn’t want him near her. Not now. Not ever. She started for the door.
Dara had been right. Her sister had warned her. She had sensed in that way siblings have that Gwendolyn might have been lost in her own hopes and imaginings.
Well, why not? Gwendolyn had never been in love before. She’d read about it, dreamed of it, longed for it, but had never experienced it—until him.
