“So it would seem,” she murmured back.
Ash studied her, his fingers clutching the back of the chair he stood behind, resisting the urge to cross the room and touch her.
“‘Would seem?’” he repeated, his voice low. “That’s not quite definitive.”
Clare’s lips curled slightly, as if she had expected him to latch onto that. She stepped forward, but not too close—just enough to tease him with her presence, with the maddening scent of her perfume. Like orchids. Perfect for her. Unique and compelling. “All good things must come to an end,” she said lightly.
That shouldn’t have stung. But it did.
He pushed the chair aside and stalked toward her, resisting the urge at the last minute to grab her hand. Instead, he watched her face. “Where will you go after tomorrow?”
“I’m going back to London,” she said. “Meredith invited me to stay with her for the autumn Season, and Mama has agreed.”
Ash swore under his breath. “That’s going to be an unholy temptation for me.” He had his own town house in London, but he was often at Southbury’s house, spending time with his sister and his closest friend.
Clare let out a small laugh, the sound wicked and knowing. “I expect you’ll find a way to manage.”
Doubtful.
Highly doubtful.
Ash had spent the last twenty-four hours doing a rubbish job of managing himself, and that had been with the entire house party as a buffer.
Now, she was going to be in his sister’s home? Within reach? A temptation laid before him nearly daily?
God help him.
“I’m not entirely sure why I came here tonight,” she announced. “You know as well as I do that there can be nothing else between you and me.” She said the words far too casually, as if they weren’t a decision so much as a decree. Then Clare turned back toward the door, pausing just as she reached for the handle. She glanced at him over her shoulder, her golden hair gleaming in the candlelight.
She was waiting for something.
For him to stop her?
For him to say something reckless and irreversible?
He did nothing.
Because he knew that if he touched her now, he wouldn’t be able to stop.
So he let her go.
But as the door clicked shut behind her, one thing became unbearably clear.
Things werenotover between him and Clare Handleton.
Not at all.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Clare had nearly made it back to her room when a sound across the corridor made her pause. She turned sharply, pulse hammering, just in time to see the shadows shift near the window.
“Who’s there?” she demanded, heart lodged somewhere between her ribs and her throat.
The curtains stirred, and Lady Julia Fairbanks stepped out.
Clare let out a breath, pressing a hand to her chest. “Good Lord, Lady Julia, I nearly died of fright.”
“Did you?” Julia’s voice was honeyed poison, smooth but laced with something sharper underneath.
