When she didn’t answer, he nudged her knee. “How is you and me being friends not simple?”
The gin had loosened her tongue, and before her brain could stop her, she blurted out, “Because I’m sort of, somewhat, seeing someone.” She winced. That was not a fact he needed to know.
Instead of laughing or scowling or expressing any of the emotions she’d thought he would, he calmly picked up the glass next to him and twirled it in his hands. “Truly?” He was nonchalant, watching the liquid swish. “Who is this man who has earned your affection?” he asked before polishing off the drink.
A hot flush crept up her neck. “I do not know his name.”
Peter coughed, gin splashing her skirts and bodice. “You do not know hisname?”
“No.”
“What does he do for a living?” he asked incredulously.
“I am not sure.”
“Who is his family?”
“I do not know.” She dropped her head into her hands.
Petertsked, like her old schoolteacher might have. “Eleanor, does this man actually exist? You don’t need to invent a person to get rid of me. Say the word and I’ll leave.”
She scowled at him and scrunched her skirts in her hands. It was a perfectly reasonable question, and that was annoying. “Yes, he exists. We have been writing letters for months now.”
Peter chuckled and turned his attention back to the stack of books beside him. “Letters. That’s all.Letters. You can’t come to know a person through letters.”
Her objection was sidelined by the piles he was creating. By what criteria was he discarding some books and keeping others? She refocused. “I disagree. I know all that I need to. He is kind and sensitive and intelligent. He has a curious mind and a witty sense of humor. He is perfect.” Almost perfect.
“Is he the man who failed to meet you that night?”
She pressed her lips together but nodded anyway.
Peter shook his head. “Yet he’s perfect.” He pushed forward a pile. “These are good enough to keep. Your pen pal should go.”
She skimmed the titles. By happenstance, the Captain had sent her most of them prior to his disappearance. “Fine, maybe he’s notperfect. But people can’t be judged solely on one mistake.”
“Truthfully?” It was said with the timbre of hope. He brushed his hand against hers and she forgot the books. She was trapped by his gaze. His gold-flecked eyes looked as optimistic as they had when he was searching for platypuses.Platypi?The left corner of his lips quirked like it had when he first saw her at the Duchess of Wakefield’s ball, and the space between themcrackled—just as it had right before she discovered the truth about him.
She pulled her hand away. “Technically, you made two mistakes.” She twisted as she went from cross-legged to standing, avoiding his hurt expression as she did so. “You lied about who you are, and you destroyed my career.”
By the time she turned back to him, his earnest demeanor had been replaced by a resigned one. He also stood, with more grace than she had, and he gave an exaggerated shrug. “Well, then. It’s confirmed. We cannot be friends.” He stepped toward her. The heat that crackled surged, proving her point. They couldnotbe friends.
She wobbled slightly and retreated. “I don’t think so.”
He stepped closer, touching her elbow with a steadying hand. A shiver ran down her arm. Her fingers tingled and itched to touch him. She flexed and unflexed them, trying to dispel the energy, but he was mere inches from her. Her heart raced and her arm hairs prickled. The current woozy sensation was not at all from the gin she’d consumed.
“Not friends,” he whispered.
She swayed toward him, filling her lungs with his scent, reveling in the heat that emanated from his body. He was so beautiful. From this close angle, his perfectly symmetrical lips were full and tempting. The hard lines of his jaw looked soft and graceful. The collar of his shirt winged out in white points, like an open book. She wanted to trail her fingers against it. She wanted to flick through the pages.
She wrapped the lapel of his jacket in her hand. Later, if anyone was to ask, it was so she could stay on her feet, but truthfully… She reached up onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. They were soft and warm and caused lust toswirl in her belly. She wrapped her free hand around the back of his neck and pulled him closer, until the lengths of their bodies were pressed against each other.
His hand traveled down the small of her back and grabbed her arse. His other hand sank into her undone hair, pulling slightly. Her whole body shuddered. Dizzy, she broke the kiss just enough to suck in a breath, and on the exhale, a small mewl escaped her.
He pulled away. His gaze was unfocused, and his tongue flicked across his lips. He ran the back of his hand against her cheek.
“You’re drunk.”
“So are you.”
