“Thank you. That’s kind of you, my lady. I’ll see you all at dinner, then?” With one last furtive glance at Finn, Miss Somerset followed Lady Tallant from the room.
Finn waited for a moment or two after they’d left, then rose to his feet. “My horse was favoring his left front foot on the ride here. I believe I’ll go out to the stables and check on him.”
Captain West, who was a former cavalry officer and knew his horses, turned to Finn with a frown. “I’d be happy to come out and take a look—”
“No, that’s not necessary, I thank you. I believe it’s just a loose shoe. It won’t take long.” He bowed and smiled at the ladies, then strode out into the entryway just in time to see Lady Tallant and Miss Somerset turn left at the second floor landing.
Finn didn’t give himself time to reconsider, but went up after them, the thump of his boots muffled against the thick carpets. Damn foolish, following her into her bedchamber. Captain West would toss him out at once if he heard of it, and it wasn’t as if Finn wouldn’t have another opportunity to speak to Miss Somerset later this evening. And did he really need to see where she slept? She already haunted his dreams, for God’s sake. He’d woken in the dark last night, half-smothered in his blankets, with the stubborn tilt of her chin and the blue flash in her eyes floating around in his fevered brain. Wasn’t that bad enough?
None of these logical arguments did a thing to slow his steps, however. He continued down the hallway, cursing himself the entire way, a burning urgency in his belly driving him forward.
“…dine early because Lady Hadley and Captain West keep country hours.”
A door opened, and Lady Tallant’s voice drifted down the hallway.
“I’ll see you at 7:00, Miss Somerset. Enjoy your rest.”
Finn ducked around a corner at the end of the corridor until he heard the soft shuffle of Lady Annabel’s slippers move past, and then he crept to Miss Somerset’s door. He didn’t knock, but turned the knob, slipped inside, and closed it behind him.
She was standing at the basin, dabbing at her face and neck with a damp cloth, but she caught sight of him in the glass and let out a small gasp. “Lord Huntington!” She whirled around to face him, her hand going to her throat. “You shocked me half to death! My goodness, what are you doing in my bedchamber?”
He leaned back against the door, trying not to notice the tiny droplets of water glistening on her skin. “I beg your pardon for the disturbance, Miss Somerset, but we have something to discuss.”
He’d told himself he’d stay by the door, and he didn’t recall having moved, but somehow he was standing in the middle of her room. She’d tossed aside her light traveling cloak and hat, her cheeks were pink from her ablutions, and damp tendrils of her hair curled in a riot of little ringlets around her face and the back of her neck.
So angelic, rather like a child.
Lady Beaumont’s voice had dripped with scorn when she’d said it, and Finn hadn’t contradicted her, but now, with Miss Somerset facing him, her back stiff and that contrary tilt to her chin, he saw how wrong he’d been. No lady who could calmly face off with a marquess who’d burst into her bedchamber was a child. Looking at her now, he didn’t know how he’d ever thought her one.
“I can’t imagine what’s so urgent you think it appropriate to risk my reputation to get it. You know very well we can’t be alone in my bedchamber, Lord Huntington. Shocking behavior, especially for a gentleman who wouldn’t even kiss his betrothed in a private garden because he deemed it improper.”
Finn’s gaze dropped to her pink mouth, and he ran his tongue across the inside of his lower lip. It drove him mad to think about that kiss now—a kiss that should have happened but hadn’t, and perhaps now never would.
“No one saw me enter, but if they had, we could simply claim that enthusiasm for each other’s company so common among betrothed couples.”
Her chin shot up. “I don’t recall you being enthusiastic about my company when we were betrothed. It’s one of the reasons we no longer are. I jilted you, my lord. Since you seem to be confused, let me explain what that means. No betrothal, no wedding, no marriage, and certainly no surprise visits to my bedchamber.”
God, that stubborn little chin. He was coming to think of that maddening gesture as utterly hers. “It’s kind of you to clarify for me. I do recall something about a jilting, and yet there’s some lingering confusion on the matter.”
She tossed her cloth into the wash basin and jabbed her hands onto her hips. “Indeed? I was certain I made my sentiments regarding that situation perfectly clear.”
Finn fought back a sudden, absurd urge to grin at her show of pique. He’d never cared much for ladies with quick tempers, but he liked the flash in her blue eyes. “Tome, yes, but not to your grandmother. Tell me, what will distress Lady Chase more? That you’ve jilted a marquess, or that it was weeks before you told her the truth about it?”
Her face paled. “I—what do you mean? She…that is, I did tell her—”
“No, I don’t think so. You see, jilted fiancés make tedious house party guests. Initially I was surprised to receive Lady Hadley’s invitation, but then I realized how things were. You’re keeping secrets, Miss Somerset. Do you think that’s wise?”
“I think, my lord, it shouldn’t matter one way or another toyou.”
She pressed her lips together, but it didn’t make them look anything less like rosebuds. “It wouldn’t matter to me, only look at what a mess your lie has caused. Here we are, trapped together at your sister-in-law’s house party for the next two weeks. Rather awkward, really.”
“I never lied—”
“A lie by omission, Miss Somerset, is still a lie.”
“Forgive me, Lord Huntington, but you’re hardly one to lecture me about lies of omission, considering our betrothal.”
Finn frowned. “What do you mean, considering our betrothal?”
