“I suppose this is the part where you tell me what we just did was a mistake,” she told Weston quietly. “That it won’t happen again, and you’reterriblysorry–”
“But I’m not,” he cut in. “I’m not sorry. And whatever that was,”–he gestured at the chair behind her–“it wasn’t a mistake.”
Her lips parted. “Then…what…you…I…”
“I don’t have all the answers.” He ran a hand across his face. “Hell, I don’t haveanyanswers. This is a position I’ve never found myself in before.”
“You mean you’ve never ravished a woman in the kitchen?” asked Evie. At his resulting flicker of guilt, she gave a peal of delighted laughter. “You rake, you have! Who was she? A maid? A lady? Your mistress? Do tell. I should like to know what company I keep.”
His eyes narrowed with annoyance. “It occurred once several years ago, and she is now happily married with several children. The hour is getting late, Miss Thorncroft. We should seek our beds.”
“Yes, we should,” she agreed.
But neither of them moved, and as the air grew noticeably heavier, Evie wound her arms around her chest to brace herself against the brewing tempest.
“Do you still plan to ask for Lady Martha’s hand in marriage?”
“No. Yes.” He raked his fingers through his hair, and muttered a curse. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know,” she repeated slowly. “Tell me, Lord Hawkridge, what is it youdoknow?”
His eyes, as dark and volatile as a storm cloud, shot to hers. “I know that I should not desire you as I do. I know that it was easier when I hated you. And I know…I know that no matter what I do, I cannot stop thinking about you. Those are the things that I know.”
It was better than the cold slap of rejection that she had anticipated.
But it was far from the declaration of love that she needed.
“Then let me tell you the thingsIknow,” she said, proudly lifting her chin. “I know that I will not be a second choice. Not for you. Not for anyone. And I know that I will not leave my heart in your hands indefinitely. So take care to treat it kindly while you have it, Lord Hawkridge. For you may miss it far more than you realize when it’s gone.”
With that dire warning, she left the kitchen to seek her bed…and pray for a dreamless sleep.
Chapter Nineteen
The next morning,Evie slept past breakfast and awoke to discover that the majority of the houseguests had made their way to the village for an afternoon of shopping and a tour of the local sights. She considered joining them, but decided to remain at Hawkridge Manor instead in the hopes that some peace and quiet might settle her thoughts.
When she went downstairs, with Posy bouncing energetically behind her, she discovered she wasn’t the only one who had forgone a trip to the village.
“Your Grace,” she greeted the Duke of Hanover upon finding him sitting by himself in the solarium. “I did not expect to see you here. Are the local sights of no interest to you?”
“As the pub doesn’t open until after two, no, not really.” He tipped his cup of coffee towards the sideboard. “The eggs have gone cold, but the salmon isn’t half-bad. Won’t you join me for a belated breakfast, Miss Thorncroft?”
“I would be happy to, although I shall pass on the salmon. I must confess I’ve never had much of an appetite for fish.” Filling a plate with fresh cantaloupe sliced into neat squares and a few thin slices of beef, she also made sure to spoon blueberries into a bowl for Posy (the lamb had already devoured two bottles of warm milk) before sitting across from the duke who was studying Posy with a raised brow.
“Does it bite?” he asked warily.
“Posy?” Evie said with a laugh. “No, she is completely harmless, I can assure you.”
“I knew a French count who kept a pet tiger in his bedchamber.” Sterling scratched his freshly shaven jaw. Unlike the last time they’d met, he looked–at least by all outward appearances–to be sober and was handsomely dressed in a navy blue jacket with a high collar, satin waistcoat, gray breeches, and leather boots splattered lightly with mud, indicating he’d recently come from a ride.
“Oh?” she said, stabbing a piece of fruit with her fork.
“It went well, for a time. Until the tiger ate him.”
Evie paused with the cantaloupe halfway to her lips. “The tiger…ate the count?”
“Indeed. Very messy affair. His heir was pleased, though.” The edge of Sterling’s mouth curled. “He was the one who gave the count the tiger.”
“Surely you jest.”
