She crossed to the mirror and studied her reflection in the dim lamplight.
Her hair was slightly loose.Her eyes looked brighter than they had a right to.
Her mouth…looked like it remembered something.
Bea narrowed her eyes at herself.“Do not,” she said firmly.
Her reflection did not listen.
Bea turned away, extinguished the lamp, and headed for bed with the fierce determination of a woman who would absolutely not be seduced by kindness, or cleverness, or wicked winks in a coach.
Except…as she slipped beneath the covers, her mind offered her one last, traitorous thought.
If Nicholas tried to kiss her again…
She might not stop him.She might not push him away.
Not because she wanted him.
Certainly not.
Only because she was beginning to suspect Georgie was right.
She didn’t have to marry the man.
But perhaps—just perhaps—she could have a little fun while she let him try to convince her.
And that, Bea decided as sleep finally began to creep in, might be its own small kind of revolt.
