“This”–he glanced past her at the sofa as a muscle ticked in his jaw–“cannot happen again.”
“Why does that sound so familiar?” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, that’s right. Because you’ve said it before.Twice.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and scowled at her. “This time I mean it.”
“Then you’re not coming to Clarenmore Park?”
“That is not what I said.”
“Then youarecoming to Clarenmore Park, but you’renotgoing to kiss me.”
“That’s–” He paused, searching her face. Whatever he saw there made his scowl deepen. “Precisely. I’ve other reasons for accepting your sister’s invitation than you.”
“What are they?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
But she would find out, Eloise thought silently. She always did, because secretswereher concern. The taking of them…and the keeping.
“I’d like to make a wager,” she announced.
“No.”
“If you initiate a kiss during the house party, then you have to give me something that I want.”
He started to speak. Cut himself short. If she had some sort of machine that could peer inside his head, she was positive that she’d see his gears chugging away. Weighing the pros and cons. The benefits and the risks. The additions and the subtractions. If she was someone that leapt into a new venture with both feet and a blindfold on, Adam was someone that measured the depth of the water, tested the temperature, waited to find out what direction the wind was blowing, andthenput a single toe in.
“And if I don’t kiss you?” he said at last.
She shrugged. “Then I have to give you something thatyouwant.”
“You don’t have anything that I want.”
“Everyone hassomething.”
“Fine.”
Her brows shot up. “You accept?”
“I am going to win,” he said with a condescending smirk. “But yes, I accept your wager.”
“When two people make a bet, they both believe that they’re going to win. But only one of them is right.” Her eyes twinkling, she went to the door and unlocked it. “Good night, Mr. St. Clair. The next time our paths cross, we’ll be at Clarenmore Park and I’ll be awaiting my victory.”
He folded his arms. “You will be waiting a long time.”
“We’ll see about that.” Bringing the tips of her fingers to her lips, she blew him a kiss…and sauntered out the door.
“Where have youbeen?” Annabel complained when Eloise climbed into the carriage and squeezed in beside her. “We’ve been waiting for hours.”
“Twenty minutes,” said Bridget, muffling a yawn.
“I was looking at paintings in the east wing and lost track of time.” Twisting an arm behind her back, Eloise managed to pry the top hook of her corset loose and sighed with relief when the restrictive garment gave way. “You could have left without me.”
“I tried, but Lenora said we weren’t allowed to forget you again.” Removing her elbow-length gloves one finger at a time, Annabel folded them carefully in half before setting them on her lap. “Not that she would have noticed if you weren’t here. She’s been sleeping for two hours.”
“Twenty minutes,” Bridget repeated.
“Where are the men?” Eloise asked. With only herself and her sisters to fill it, the enormous town coach was conspicuously empty. Custom made, it was capable of seating eight grown adults in addition to the driver, a footman, and a groom whose singular purpose was to attend the horses.
