The Governess Affair (Brothers Sinister #0.5)

“I’m sorry,” he said before he could think better of it.

Apparently, he was apologizing. Apparently, he even meant it.

“You should be.”

To his horror, he heard a faint sniff. That quiet suggestion of tears was quite possibly the worst thing she could have done.

He stepped closer to her. “You’re not letting me get you down, are you? I have it on the best of authority that the Wolf of Clermont is all shoulders, no neck. He doesn’t deserve an inch of your sentiment.”

“Make up your mind,” she snapped. “Either threaten me with bodily harm or be kind to me. Don’t do both. It’s bewildering.”

“Don’t exaggerate. I threatened to destroy your livelihood. But I don’t threaten women with physical violence.”

“Oh?” she demanded. “How do you explain your last message, then?”

It took Hugo a moment to recall what he’d said. Those impulsive two words—he’d not even known what he meant by them.

“You cannot tell me it was a serious proposal of marriage,” she said. “It was intended to intimidate. And I will not be intimidated.”

Hugo swallowed. “Marriage—to anyone—has never entered my mind. I am not the sort of man who is destined for matrimonial bliss. I have too much I wish to do with my life to saddle myself with the expense of a wife and children. Take those words as they were intended—as my frankest expression of admiration for a worthy opponent.”

“You’re a clever fellow,” she retorted. “Express your admiration some other way. It makes me think—” She cut off, and took a step back. “What are you doing?”

He took another step toward her. She held up her hands to ward him off. Slowly, Hugo extended his walking stick to her. “Take it,” he said.

“But—”

“Stop arguing, Serena, and take it.”

Her hand closed around the head, and she pulled it from him.

“That,” he said, “is a weapon. If I do anything you don’t like, hit me on the head. It’s dark. You’re unaccompanied. And I am seeing you home.”

She looked up at him. “I don’t understand.”

He didn’t, either. “Don’t make too much of it.” Hugo shrugged and set off down the street.

SERENA DIDN’T KNOW what to think as she trotted down the street beside the Wolf of Clermont, swinging his heavy walking stick. His strides were not long, but they were quick and steady, and her heart beat quickly as she kept pace with him. Her mind was whirling nearly as fast.

When they slowed to pick their way across a street, Serena tried again. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

“Yes, you do,” he said, not looking at her. “You understand perfectly well what is happening. We’re attracted to one other, and it’s inconvenient.”

She sucked in a breath.

“Don’t act so surprised. If I were a greengrocer, and you the charming shopkeeper’s daughter across the street, we’d be calling the banns this Sunday. Likely we’d anticipate our marriage vows while our parents looked the other way.”

“I wasn’t acting surprised. But you’re trying to unsettle me again, and I—”

“I am not. I am as far out to sea as you are.” He spoke in a rumble so deep she almost didn’t notice the complaint in his voice.

Serena halted on the street corner; he turned to look at her. “If I were a footman,” he said, “and you a maid, we’d know every nook, every closet where we might hide away together.”

Safe, her dastardly senses whispered. He’s safe. There was something comforting about his forthright recital—comfort with an edge that only sharpened when he took a step closer to her.

“If I were a cobbler,” he said, “I’d offer you a discount on shoes.”

“Now you’ve completely lost your mind.”

“No. It would give me an excuse to measure your feet with my bare hands.” His lip twitched up. “And don’t think I’d stop at your toes.”

She had both her hands on top of his walking stick. She felt herself lean toward him, ever so slightly.

“But you’re not,” she said. “You’re the Wolf of Clermont, and I’m the woman you cannot drive away.”

“Can’t is such an unforgiving word,” he said. “I prefer do not wish to.”

This was a man who had walked away from his family at fourteen. He had a reputation for getting what he wanted.

But there was so much more to him than the boorish drone she’d once envisioned. He had talked about crushing her hopes and dreams, but when he stood next to her, he drove away the despair she’d carried for so long.

She wanted to steal him away—not to deprive Clermont of his use, but to have him for herself.

“Don’t tell me I can’t,” he was saying. “It implies an incapacity.”