“Er…”
“The man wrote there was evidence of lead and iron in the area. If his suppositions prove correct, do you know what that means?”
Ewan nodded. “It means you’re a bloody genius,” he said, grabbing her and lifting her triumphantly in the air. “It means we’re rich!”
She laughed. “Yes!” Then she gave him a serious look. “If the minerals are found in the land. You should tell your father to have more surveyors sent immediately.”
“I will. I…thank you, Lorraine. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself.”
“You would have,” she said. Of course she thought so. She always seemed to have faith in him. Then she looked down. “If I agree to keep my distance from you—not to come back here—then you will not resign your position?”
It took him a moment to register the change in topics.
“I will still see you at balls and the like?” She lifted her gaze, her eyes all but pleading. Why should she look at him that way? It was almost as though she cared about him.
“I won’t resign, provided you promise no more elopements.”
“I promise. I shall write to Francis and inform him that my affections have changed. Then he will also be free to engage his heart elsewhere.”
For that’s what she would do. She had to marry, and he would follow her to event after event, watching while she fell in love with another man.
“That seems the sensible thing to do.”
“Really?” She blinked as though surprised. “I seem rarely to do the sensible thing.”
He made a circular gesture with one finger. “I’ll fasten your dress and see you and your maid home. We can tell your father we met by chance as you were returning from…”
“Bond Street.”
He growled in frustration as he began to fasten the tiny hooks and eyes. His fingers were far too large for the task and he fumbled. The act took so long, he had time enough to become aware of her scent again and the heat of her body where his fingers grazed the skin of her bare shoulders.
She must have become aware of him too, for she looked over her shoulder at him, her green eyes large and dark. “Are you certain we can never meet alone again?” she murmured.
“Very certain.”
“That is the sensible course of action.”
He made a sound of assent. Goddamn little hooks. Were they meant to induce frustration or merely make a man mad with his own ineptitude?
“The problem is I don’t feel very sensible.” She sighed. “I still want to kiss you.”
His hands stilled on the little hooks.
“I still want to touch you.”
Women had said far more erotic phrases to him, but he’d never felt the stab of arousal in his belly the way he did hearing it from her. “No.” He choked the word out.
She turned and tilted her head up to look at him. “But perhaps we might kiss—just one last time?”
He abandoned the bloody fastenings and swiped the veil and fichu from the bed, shoving them into her hands. “Put those on. You are returning home. Now.” He stomped to the door. Let her maid worry about doing her back up. He couldn’t play bodyguard and lady’s maid.
“Fine.” She stuck the veil on her head and sighed. “What about a coat?”
He’d almost forgotten. He’d all but forgotten footwear as well. The woman addled his brain. He pulled a coat on and shoved his feet into boots, then gestured her out of his chamber.
Downstairs, he waited patiently by the exit while Lady Lorraine and her maid visited the lady’s retiring room. When the lady emerged, she looked all fastened up again, and the veil was perched neatly on her tidy coiffure.
Immediately, he wanted to take all the clothing off again. He stuck his hands in his pockets and followed Lady Lorraine and her maid at a distance until they were back in respectable territory. Then he escorted them to the house and upon being told he was not needed until later that night, promptly left for his club to eat and have a drink.
Several drinks.
Over the next two days, Ewan held on to his resolve, barely. It helped that Lady Lorraine did not attempt to corner him alone. It did not help that she seemed to wear the most revealing gowns she owned and tended to watch him, rather than her partner, at every ball. Ewan spent hours watching her dance and mentally undressing her. Then he’d dress her again, tell himself he must stop, and start all over again. As though she knew what he was thinking, each time their gazes met—and it seemed to be every few moments—her cheeks would color pink, and he knew exactly what she was thinking because he was thinking the same thing.
But she upheld her part of the bargain, and there were no more instances of her attempting to see Francis Mostyn alone or to communicate with him. Her mother and father were overjoyed that she had put aside what they called her childish infatuation, and even more men were introduced to her. If the evenings at Society gatherings were long, the nights were endless. He did not sleep well, if at all. His dreams were full of her.
The days he spent on his father’s business. He hired surveyors to go to Yorkshire and survey the land. He gathered funds to pay them and instructed them to report back to him. He wanted proof of a solution before he brought it to his father.
Several nights later the duke informed Ewan the family would stay in for a night and he was not needed. Ewan went straight to his club, and waving away Porter’s offer of dinner, ensconced himself in the reading room and demanded a bottle of brandy. He didn’t particularly like brandy, but it put him to sleep and he had no intention of tossing and turning, fantasizing about Lady Lorraine.
Ewan had drunk only two glasses when Beaumont took the seat opposite him. Several of Draven’s Survivors had stopped in the club, but all of them had taken one look at Ewan and walked the other way. Not Rafe Beaumont.
Rafe motioned to Porter for a glass and poured a measure of Ewan’s brandy in it.
“I didn’t say I wanted to share,” Ewan all but growled.
“I’ve always said your manners are atrocious. But I will not allow you to celebrate alone.”
Ewan sipped the brandy and stared at him.
“Aren’t you celebrating? After all, you did it.” Rafe raised his glass in a toast.
“Did what?”
“Avenged yourself on your cousin.”
Ewan stared at the brandy bottle, wondering if he’d drunk more than he thought. “Never touched him.”
“Yes, but the news is all over Town that Lady Lorraine returns his letters and will not see him when he calls.”
Ewan hadn’t heard any of this.
“He’s fighting mad and blames you.”
Ewan grinned at the thought of his cousin inconvenienced for once. Not that Ewan had much to do with it. He may have sped up the inevitable, but the lady had made her own decision.
Rafe sipped again. “Of course the man can’t do like every other reasonable man and drink himself under the table, start a fight, and move on the next morning. He’s told anyone who will listen that he only wanted the lady for her dowry. Painted her father out to be as rich as Croesus.”