“Don’t you now?”
She shook her head. “He is not the sort to.”
“There is no sort, Minerva.”
“I disagree.” She leaned forward, close enough to be kissed if he chose to. Which he didn’t, much as he would like to. “Now, as long as I have you on your knees and feeling bad, you can tell me whatyoudid not share withme.”
He would have laughed, except that she was very serious. “A small detail.”
“How small?”
“A spot of information, nothing more.”
“I will decide if it was a spot or a large blotch.”
He rested back on his heels. Not that he expected a blow to come, of course. “Whether Kevin visited him is yet to be confirmed. However, he did have a visitor.”
“He did? Who?”
“A woman. That is all I know, and all that was seen. Not her face, or even much of the rest of her.”
“Who told you?”
“Edkins.”
She frowned. “He didn’t tell me that.”
“Did you bluntly ask? Sometimes that works best.”
“My way worked quite well. However, perhaps in the future we should plan it so that I chat with them and get unintended droppings, and you bluntly ask and get your kind of answers.”
He slid onto the divan beside her, still holding her hand. “That is a good plan.”
Their proximity, their clasped hands, caused a change in the air. He did not much care about Mr. Edkins’s revelations anymore.
She turned to look at him right in the eyes. “You did not tell me because the woman could have been me.”
“I knew it was not. I did, however, worry that you would believe I thought it was you.”
“How did you know it wasn’t me, if no one saw her face?”
He raised her hand and kissed it. “I just knew.”
* * *
Minerva had no illusions that Chase expected the night to end as it began. If the exquisite anticipation tightening her core was any indication, she had better make her decision soon. A nervous jumpiness descended on her. It seemed to spread from her blood out to the chamber they occupied. She felt it in him too, although nothing in his body or face revealed it. He appeared companionable and friendly, not lusting.
He would not seduce her. He would probably sit here for hours if she preferred that. From the looks of him, he didn’t even care if they talked while they did so.
His manservant arrived with a big tray. Wordlessly he poured warm negus into two small glasses. She sipped the spiced port punch, glad for something to do. Once the servant left, however, she set her glass down.
“I cannot decide.” She assumed he would know what she spoke of. “I weigh it and—” She shrugged.
“I do not think weighing it will resolve anything. I don’t think the answer you seek will present itself that way. Nor do you need to decide now, or next week, or ever.”
She did not want to remain undecided forever. How sad that would be. If she lived the rest of her life the way she had lived the last years, it should be a choice. If she denied herself that part of being a woman, after experiencing that fulfillment once, she did not want it to be because she lacked the courage to choose another way.
He spoke not at all, just sat beside her, his warm palm cradling hers. The nervousness she experienced hung thick between them, like a palpable excitement waiting to burst forth.
