Page 88 of The Lady’s Great Escape

She laughed. “Yes, of course. I’m searching for Lord Rathmore.”

*

Celia worried shemight be ill as Lord Rathmore assisted her into her carriage and took the seat next to her. His hand rested on his thigh, so close to hers, if she had moved her little finger the slightest bit, they would have touched.

She didn’t move her finger.

They were both still wearing gloves, but she still felt the possibility of their touching to be too intimate.

A ridiculous notion since they would soon be touching everywhere, with no gloves or other clothing between them. She glanced up and met his gaze in the dim light of the carriage. Was he thinking of kissing her?

The thought excited her as much as it terrified her. Not that she was inexperienced and feared kissing a man, but that it was a different man than Kit.

Would he feel different? Taste different?

Of course, he would. He was different. He wouldn’t yet know the things she liked that Kit knew. Would he ask her to tell him? Would she feel comfortable to do so or would she appreciate the things he did even more than Kit? She couldn’t imagine liking anything more than what Kit had made her feel.

She frowned as she realized she’d spent the entire ride to Penbrook House thinking about Kit instead of the man next to her. The man she was about to welcome into her home and her bed.

Lord Rathmore reached up to help her down and Celia felt her body tense. Not because his touch thrilled her, but the opposite. It felt like any touch from a footman or a groom when they assisted her into her coach.

Nothing sparked and sizzled as it had when she and Kit touched.

And why was she back to comparing Lord Rathmore to Kit? Worse, why was she thinking of him as Lord Rathmore rather than his given name? The answer came swiftly when she realized she still didn’t know the man’s given name.

She was about to share her body with a man she didn’t know in the most basic of ways. Not that it would be a first. She’d spent the night with Kit when she’d only known him as Lord Desire. But this was…different.

She’d thought that word was the reason she wanted to experience a variety of men, but now it seemed the worst word every thought.

Surely, she could ask Lord Rathmore his given name now and he would tell her, but she had already thought past the issue of his name and realized she didn’t know him at all. His name was irrelevant when she considered she didn’t know any more about him than what was shared with anyone during a dance or polite conversation over dinner. It wasn’t nearly enough to be intimate. She didn’t know if she could go through with this.

She paused inside the foyer and dismissed the butler who waited expectantly for her to take her guest to the drawing room. But how would she get Lord Rathmore from the drawing room to her bedroom without the servants knowing? And what if Graham was about. He was most likely at his club, but she wasn’t certain.

Inside the drawing room, she should have offered Lord Rathmore refreshment. Or at least a seat, but instead, she hovered nervously by the door as he waited patiently next to her.

How had a few moments of flirting landed her here with a man in her home who expected sex? Did he expect sex? He didn’t look like a man ready to move onto intimate relations with a woman. He looked… concerned.

“Are you well?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not sure.” In truth, she felt slightly faint and hoped she wouldn’t fall at the man’s feet and embarrass herself all the more. “I’m afraid I may have gotten ahead of myself. You see, I was looking forward to the idea of having a lover and enjoying our time together, but now that the opportunity is upon us, I fear I’m not as comfortable with the situation as I thought to be. Please forgive me for bringing you here with certain expectations. I regret to say those expectations will go unsatisfied because I cannot go forward with my plans.”

“No apology is necessary. In fact, I’m relieved to hear you say you’ve changed your mind. I, too, am rethinking our situation. Not because I don’t find you attractive, I do, but because it seems clear to me now that I gave my heart to someone I met early in the season. And while she doesn’t seem to want the useless organ, I can’t bear to take it back.”

It was one of the most romantic things she’d ever heard and she hugged him, hoping to offer some comfort for his pain. A pain that she would most likely experience herself, as the man she now realized she wanted above all else was at this very moment proposing marriage to another woman.

“Would you care to sit and have a drink?” she offered easily now that they had come to a silent agreement to remain friends. “I may not be able to offer you much, but I can offer my understanding.”

He smiled and nodded. “That would be lovely.”

He only stayed for the one glass of brandy and he never spoke the name of the woman he loved, except to say it was her first season and he was blown away by her charm on their first dance. He’d spoken to her brother the next day. The man was an acquaintance and had put his full support behind Jonathan—he’d told her his given name at one point—and the match. But at the next ball the lady had refused to dance or speak to him.

“The odd thing is, I still catch her watching me. A few times our gazes have met and she’s been slow to look away as if she wants more, but something is just not right. I have asked for her to stand up with me for other dances, but after a number of refusals, I was left with no choice but to respect her clear message of disinterest. Except it isn’t so clear anymore. Not with the way she watches me. I’m not sure what I might have done to earn her rejection.”

“Perhaps it is nothing more than a misunderstanding. Perhaps she was just as taken with you during that first dance, but worried she hadn’t met enough other men to make a sound decision. I know, for me, I thought I wanted experience. To explore intimacies with more than one man. Now, however, I realize only one man will do.”

“Lord Stormont,” he guessed.

“Yes.”