“No, I suppose it wouldn’t be fair of me.But I can’t have you thinking harshly of him.He is my brother.And my best friend most of the time, besides.”
“I don’t think harshly of him,” Tilly said.
Scarlett was relieved to hear that the heat in her voice had subsided.
“You know I think him very charming.He’ll make the most delightful brother.But he shouldn’t speak for me.Especially against you.It isn’t proper.Not when—”
And here Tilly stopped.
At the abrupt stop, Scarlett looked up and quickly understoodwhyit had happened.
George Salisbury waskissingher sister.
And she was kissing him back!
As a chaperone, Scarlett knew she had no choice but to put an end to such nonsense.While engaged couples might kiss, Tilly and George werenotyet engaged, despite the seeming understanding between them.
She opened her mouth to remind her sister of the hour.
But she found she could not.
Because two truths hit her… with a stunning, painful clarity.
The first was that her sister would soon be married.And then she, Scarlett, would be alone.She would continue living with Vera—what other choice did she have?And she was fond of her stepmother, of course—but her one constant companion since childhood, Tilly, would be gone for good.She would be all alone with nothing to color her days but spinsterhood.
And, second, she realized, with a horrible, resounding clang, that she would never be kissed in such a manner.
Once, she had been kissed.Long ago now.But it had hardly been passionate.Really, it hardly counted.
No, it didnotcount, in fact, now that she thought of it.Which meant that she would never be kissed by a man in the way that George Salisbury was now kissing her sister.With longing.With ardor.
She would remain untouched, undesired, for the rest of her days.
She bit back a sob at the unfairness of it.
And then she saw George bring a hand to Tilly’s face, and she realized—with a horrible lurch—that she was being unforgivably derelict.
“Tilly!”she finally managed.“The hour is late.We must be abed.”
George Salisbury instantly broke the kiss.
When he pulled away from her sister, her face was flaming.He looked little less affected.
“I am—I—bid you goodnight,” he said, hurriedly bowing to them both and exiting the room.
And Scarlett was left staring at her sister’s burning face.
Chapter Eight
After leaving thedining room, Malcolm did not immediately head back to his bedchamber.
No, the idea of what awaited him there held no temptation.Usually, in his lodgings, he did not feel lonely.He hardly thought of the common comforts of life that he had rejected as not for himself.But he knew tonight those four walls would feel different.
And he knew, without a shred of doubt, if he went back to his room, he would end the night by stroking himself desperately to thoughts of Miss Scarlett Perkins.And her delectable, creamy bosom.And the way she had moaned when her lips had closed around that strawberry.And every other dainty, delicious charm to which he had been exposed over the course of that dinner.
He had hardly ever met a woman so to his taste.
And the idea that he would never touch her or hold her, and the fact that he would surely fantasize about doing just that anyway, well—it depressed him.
