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Before she knew what she was saying, the words left her mouth. “That it would be a shame.”

His eyes flicked to hers. “What would?”

“For you not to initiate a kiss again.”

His eyes searched hers, then for the briefest moment, dropped to her mouth. Her heart picked up.

“Why?” he asked, his voice husky.

“Because the kissing balls and mistletoe Lady Dalmeer painstakingly placed everywhere would go to waste.”

His eyes moved above her head to where a bundle of mistletoe with a red ribbon and white berries had been hanging near the window well throughout the duration of their conversation.

“I’m sure you noticed it before now,” she whispered.

“I may have.”

She drew a deeper breath, as if in preparation for what might come. “It would be a shame to waste this one. But as you said, you’ll never instigate a kiss. A lady ought not, either.”

His brow twitched. “A lady?”

Seventeen

All too late, Clara realized her mistake. She needed to retrieve her words. To lie or say it was a mistake, a simple slip of the tongue.

But there was no retracting what she said, nor was there any denying them, for he wouldn’t believe her now.

She couldn’t bear the scandal it would cause for Mother should word get out that she was parading around as a maid now. She couldn’t risk Algernon hearing where she was and coming to find her to bring her back to Cliveley.

All she could do was pray Mr. Cole did not press her on the matter. Or she could run away. Or...or she could distract him in the way he never would expect.

Her heart leapt forward, the final nudge she needed to close the distance between them. She knew there would be repercussions, but at the moment, she could only think of distracting them both from what she’d said.

And there was but one way to do so.

Launching forward, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressed her body against him, then placed her lips on his.

She did not know what she was doing, nor how it would end. But what she did know was that this moment was far preferable to anything Mr. Agar had done with her.

Mr. Cole didn’t respond for a moment. His lips were still, motionless, before he pulled back with a sudden jerk.

A frown marked his brow, and all at once, Clara was brought to the knowledge that she may have just done to Mr. Cole what Mr. Agar had done to her.

With a gasp, she pulled even farther back, her eyes wide. “I’m...I’m so sorry.”

She withdrew a step, then made to flee down the rest of them, but Mr. Cole’s hand grasped her wrist. She turned back to face him, though he still frowned.

“Clara,” he breathed, holding her wrist between them, firm, but gentle enough to know she could break free if she wished. “I was earnest when I told you before that I...I didn’t want this from you. I don’t want you to think all of this talking was for me to receive...”

Her ladylike upbringing tried to shame her for her unladylike behavior, but she shut it aside. She didn’t have the novelty of behaving like a lady any longer.

“I cannot take that from you,” he continued, staring at her with a frown. “Not after everything I’ve done to not deserve...”

Clara nodded. “I understand. I should not have taken it from you. I am sorry for putting you in a position that...”

Her words trailed off as he shook his head incredulously. “You’ve taken nothing from me. You know I would willingly give it if I thought...”

Their words were different now, so many of their sentences remaining unfinished. Both of them were frightened of offending the other—of taking advantage of the other.