Page 47 of A Wallflower to Win the Viscount

She gestured to a seat. He hesitated, unsure what was for the best. He wanted to leave, but would it be rude to do so now? She had asked about her new neighbours and deserved to be informed as to who would soon be living next door.

She sat down, and he lowered himself onto the settee, sitting on the edge, as if that in some way meant he was not entirely committing himself to staying any longer than entirely necessary. He would simply do what any good neighbour would do, nothing more. Once he had passed on the relevant information about the charity and its plans for his father’s house, he would leave.

Once again she tilted her head and smiled encouragingly at him.

‘Beatrice has a friend who works for a charity that is eminently suitable. They provide a home for women and children in need and assistance for them to find ways to become…’ despite himself, he smiled at her ‘…women of independent means. By helping them secure employment and even on occasion to start their own businesses, should they so choose.’

‘That sounds perfect.’ Her smile became brighter. Her dimples grew deeper.

‘Yes, it does.’

That lovely smile faltered slightly. ‘So has the transfer gone through? Will you soon be returning to America?’

‘There are a few details to finalise, but yes, I suppose I will soon be leaving.’

That was what he wanted, wasn’t it? When he’d arrived back in England, his plan had been to dispose of the house as quickly as possible and then leave, and nothing had changed.

He swallowed a sigh. What was he thinking? A lot had changed. He’d met Primrose. That had changed everything. He’d kissed her and had come dangerously close to doing more. And damn it all, he still wanted to do so much more. To her. With her.

This would be much easier if she did not look so beautiful, with her soft pink lips, her soulful blue eyes, and that kind, trusting expression that seemed to radiate warmth.

And that was what she was doing now. Trusting him. Despite everything that had happened she still trusted him. If he needed any other reminder of why he should leave, that alone should provide it.

Yet still he hesitated, one last question gnawing at him. A question he had no right to ask, but one he desperately wanted answered.

‘Has Beatrice visited recently or invited you to any more events?’ he said, hoping his voice sounded only politely interested.

‘Beatrice? No. Although, it would be lovely to see her again. Perhaps I’ll invite her around to afternoon tea.’

Damn it, he should never have mentioned his cousin’s wife.

‘I believe she might have returned to her home in the country.’ Lucian cringed, hardly able to believe that he was now telling lies. What on earth was wrong with him? He claimed he wanted to be a better man, but this irrational jealousy was making him behave in ways that were nothing less than unconscionable.

Either tell her the truth or leave. Lying to her is beneath contempt, and remaining here poses a danger to both of us. Tell her the truth about Beatrice and then leave.

As if immobilised by indecision, he remained seated, saying nothing.

The strangely coloured cat emerged from behind the settee, drawing both their attention, then rubbed itself against the bottom of his trouser legs, in that odd manner it always did. This, for some reason, caused Primrose to laugh.

‘Clawdia really does hold you in high regard.’

It seemed a peculiar way to express its regard, by leaving cat fur all over his clothing.

‘She always runs away from Jasper. But not you. She obviously likes you a lot.’

Heaven knew why. If the cat could see what was in his heart, if it knew he had gone against all that was proper and kissed its owner, if it knew he was wrestling with ridiculous emotions and jealousies, that he had been reduced to telling pathetic lies, the cat would be hissing at him, not displaying this strange act of affection.

‘I think she’s going to miss you when you’re no longer living next door.’

She reached over, picked up the cat and gave it a kiss on the top of its head. The animal squirmed in her arms so she placed it on the ground, where it once again went back to rubbing its now-large belly against his leg.

Lucian could not say he would miss the cat. But Primrose, that was a different story. Even now during this polite exchange, he was completely unsettled. Was it because he still had unexpressed anger coursing through him? Maybe. Was it because he had kissed her? Probably. Was it because he wanted to kiss her again? Definitely.

He wanted to feel his arms around her and the touch of her lips so desperately that it was like a physical ache in his chest, and there was a decided danger that other parts of his body might also react if he did not keep himself under control.

Something that was not easy when in the company of a woman who was so temptingly desirable. She smiled at him again and tucked another stray lock of hair behind her ear. What he wouldn’t give to remove those clips and watch her blond tresses tumble, before he opened the small buttons down the front of her blouse and—

What the hell was he thinking?