Scarlett.
Despite what had transpired between them yesterday, she had seemed so remote and beautiful to him at dinner.Whenever he saw her at dinner or with any of the other members of the party, she felt as untouchable to him as she had the night they first met.
“Come in,” he said, realizing that she should not stand in the hallway for a moment longer than necessary.Even a maid glimpsing her outside his door could spark a scandal.
She followed his command with a quick step.Then he closed the door and turned around to take her in.
“Are you well?Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.“My sister is going to marry your brother.I heard them discussing it tonight.It’s decided between them.”
Malcolm raised his eyebrows.It wasn’t a surprise, and yet still, something about this news felt monumental.It meant a great deal for Parkhorne, of course, that George had selected a wife.And it still shocked him that his little brother, the boy whom he had first gotten to know as a bright-eyed eight-year-old, was grown up enough now to marry.
“Have they told Mrs.Salisbury?”
“No.They want to wait until the end of the party.Out of respect for her wishes.”
“It is only ten days,” he said, uncomfortably aware of how little of the house party remained.“They will not have long to wait.”
He wondered if that was all she had come to tell him.It was important news, surely, but…
His next thought evaporated as he took her in.Her cheeks were only slightly flushed, and he yearned to make them more so.Her gaze was eager, open.She was wearing the same frock she had worn at dinner, a light red evening dress that put her bosom on display.He wanted to bury his face in her breasts and not resurface until—
“I want you to ruin me.Still.”
He shook his head.He had been lost in his wanting.It took him a moment to realize that she was asking him to make those very desires a reality.
“You do?”
Somehow, despite yesterday, her request surprised him.Overwhelmed him, even.
“As soon as possible, preferably.”
“Scarlett, I—It isn’t—We have discussed why… we shouldn’t.”
“You’ve practically done it anyway!And I’ve told you I have no wish to marry.”
“You didn’t say that you didn’t wish it.You said you thought you wouldn’t.”
Her eyes flashed.“Are you trying to humiliate me?”
“No.Of course not.It is only that you didn’t say you wereagainstmatrimony, but rather that you thought you wouldn’t find a husband in London.”
“I return to my previous question.”She crossed her arms and glared at him.
“What if you meet a man in the future, and want to marry him, and wish you hadn’t bedded me?”
“That won’t happen.”
“You can’t know that!Christ, Scarlett, you can’t be more than—what?Six-and-twenty?”
“Eight-and-twenty.Far past marriageable age.”
“You can’t believe that rot.Women who are eight-and-twenty marry all over England every day.”
“Not in Grosvenor Square.”
“Please, Scarlett, even there!”
