The Wedding Game

But today, she was sure she knew what had been meant. The pressure of those straight white teeth made her bite her own lip to keep from crying out.

She should do the sensible thing and pull her hand away, with some cutting remark about his unwilling attention. But she made no effort to move. It must be shock. Nothing more than that. She should not be enjoying this.

He took her inaction as permission to take more liberties. His other hand came up to cradle hers to his mouth and he bit down hard enough to make her jump. Then he turned it slightly, settling his lips over the web of skin between thumb and forefinger.

She gasped and yanked her hand away. ‘What was the meaning of that?’

‘I should think the meaning plain enough,’ he said, in a voice that was annoyingly calm. ‘As long as we are trapped in a cupboard together, we might as well find a pleasant way to pass the time.’

‘You flatter yourself if you think I am enjoying this,’ she said, though her breath came in gasps that proclaimed she lied.

‘Then I must be doing it wrong.’ The hand that had been on the door handle was now cupping her bottom. ‘Is this better?’

Infinitely so. But Lord knew what would happen if she admitted the truth. ‘If you need a woman to correct your technique, there are houses full of them in Covent Garden. I suggest you go there and leave proper young ladies alone.’

‘I am not normally prone to such assignations. I certainly do not indulge in them at public gatherings. I am very conscious of my reputation.’ He sounded puzzled by the statement, as though he needed to make the sort of maidenly assertion she could not think to make. ‘Apparently, I’m more conscious of my rep than you are of yours.’ This was followed with a pinch that made her jump forward, pressing herself even tighter to his body.

‘I know perfectly well that this is improper,’ she said. She put her hands flat on his chest, meaning to push him away. Instead, the fingers of her ungloved hand found the opening of his shirt, dragging a nail along the bare skin. ‘It was never my intention to be in here with you.’

He sighed. ‘I suppose that is as close as I will get to an apology. You must give over these attempts to separate me from your sister. I will meet her eventually, you know. And speak to your father as well.’ Their lips were separated by a bare whisper of air. She could feel the imminent kiss, like the flutter of a moth’s wing against her face.

‘I only mean to forestall you until a worthy gentleman makes his move,’ she reminded him. Perhaps, once he knew he had lost, things might be different between them. Or perhaps they would change right now. She opened her mouth, ready to yield.

But no kiss came. ‘A worthy gentleman?’ The air around him seemed to chill with a dangerous silence. ‘What, exactly, is it about me that you find objectionable? Is it my character? I make sure that it is exemplary. Is it my birth? Because that does not seem to bother the rest of London.’

It was because she had thought him cold and demanding, when she’d overheard him at Almack’s. He had been anything but cold, a moment ago. And under certain circumstances, demanding could be quite nice. ‘It is more than that,’ she said, searching for an explanation that did not insult. ‘A match between you would be disastrous for all concerned.’

‘You mean it would be a disaster for you,’ he said. ‘Since you are so free with your opinions of my character, let me enlighten you as to yours. When she marries, you intend to hang on your sister’s skirts and burrow into whatever home she makes like a tick on a dog’s back. Since you know I will not allow it, you cannot abide me.’

He thought of her as a parasite on her sister’s happiness? And just now, she had been ready to... ‘How dare you.’

‘How dare I?’ he said in a tone of mock outrage. ‘With complete confidence, Miss Summoner. It is the common view of society that you are nothing more than a frustrated spinster. You had a horrible Season and no man would have you. Now you mean to spoil your sister’s come out as well.’

‘I am not frustrated,’ she retorted, before she could stop herself. She owed this man no explanation. ‘My Season was not horrible.’ It had been a sometimes delightful lesson in what men expected from women. She had survived it informed but unscathed. But her sister had a desirable body, a docile temperament and no understanding of the consequences of flirtation. If they were not very careful, she would not be so lucky. ‘And Belle should not be out at all.’ She bit her lip, for she was dangerously close to speaking the truth.

‘Jealousy,’ he said, satisfied.

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