Who Will Take This Man?

“As is yours. In a very charming way.”

Meredith looked into his brown eyes, at the passion still simmering in their depths, and felt an answering stir in her body. Her common sense coughed back to life, bringing with it all the reasons that she should not be doing this. Drawing a deep breath, she stepped back, out of the circle of his arms.

“Lord Greybourne-”

“Philip. Surely after what we just shared you can call me by my given name.”

Warmth crept up her neck. He looked so incredibly tempting, his hair tousled from her explorations, his cravat askew, his eyes dark with unmistakable desire.

Two steps. It would require only two steps forward for her to be once again wrapped in his strong arms, to feel his warm, hard body against her, to again experience the magic and wonder of his kiss. And the urge to take those two steps was so overwhelming it frightened her. This interlude was something she never should have begun. But since she had and couldn’t change it, it was certainly time that she ended it.

Lifting her chin, she adopted her most businesslike brisk air. “Philip, about what happened here this evening, it was…” Incredible. Intense. Heart-stopping. Frightening.

And impossible.

She cleared her throat. “It was the result of a lapse of judgment on my part.”

“I beg to differ. It was the result of this powerful attraction between us.” He reached out to touch her, and she quickly sidestepped him, moving to put the settee between them. This was difficult enough to say. If he touched her, she feared she’d lose her resolve altogether. He made no further move to touch her; rather, he plucked his spectacles from the mantel and slid them on.

Pressing her hands together, she straightened her back and looked him directly in the eye. “Obviously I cannot deny I find you attractive.”

“Just as I cannot deny I find you attractive.” He shifted a bit. “Painfully so.”

Heat crept up her neck as she recalled the delicious sensation of his hardness pressed against her. “Be that as it may, last night, at Vauxhall, you said, and I agreed, that allowing this to happen again would be a mistake of gargantuan proportions.”

“When I said that, I was merely stating what I thought would be your view of the situation. It was not my view, nor did I agree.”

“Semantics. The fact remains that we cannot act upon this attraction again.”

“Why?”

“Why? Surely you can see this is impossible. There are dozens of reasons why.”

“Then please, share these dozens of reasons with me, for I cannot think of one.” He leaned his shoulders against the mantel, folded his arms across his chest, and crossed his booted ankles. “You have my full attention.”

“You’re making sport of me again.”

“On the contrary, I am very serious. We’ve admitted we are attracted to each other. Even after our kiss last evening, I still thought I could ignore what’s between us, but clearly I am mistaken. I would very much like to see where this attraction leads. You clearly have objections, whereas I have none.”

“But that is the entire point! This attraction cannot lead anywhere.”

“Again, I must ask. Why?”

“Are you being deliberately obtuse? Where precisely do you think it could lead? You are bound by your promise to marry. I am supposed to be finding you a suitable bride. We can hope that in a matter of mere days you will have a wife. Please, let us be honest with each other. There is absolutely no room for me in your life. The only two possible outcomes for this attraction are utterly impossible-I cannot marry you, and I won’t be your mistress.”

Silence, thick and heavy, descended between them, broken only by the ticking of the mantel clock. Nearly a minute passed before he spoke. “Just out of curiosity, assuming I am able to break the curse and marry at all, would marrying me prove such a dreadful hardship?”

The quiet note of underlying hurt and confusion in his question tugged at her heart in a completely unacceptable way. A lump clogged her throat, forcing her to swallow twice before she could trust herself to speak. “Whoever you choose will be a very fortunate woman. I’ve no doubt you will be a wonderful husband and… father. And that woman will, of course, be of impeccable breeding and from a station similar to yours. I am, obviously, not that woman. And even if I were, as I’ve told you before, I’ve no desire to ever marry.”

“A statement I find most curious. Why do you harbor this aversion to the one thing most women aggressively strive for?”

If you only knew… “I am very satisfied with my life exactly as it is. I enjoy my work and the measure of independence it affords me. In addition, Albert, Charlotte, and Hope depend on me, and the feeling is mutual. I would never do anything to disrupt the close-knit family we’ve built. As for the other option-”

“Becoming my mistress?”

“Yes. I refuse to endanger my reputation, as it would harm not only me, but my family as well. I fought too long and hard to earn my respectability to risk it.”

His gaze turned questioning, and she instantly realized she’d said too much. To forestall any questions, she rushed on. “I’ve learned that it is futile to look back, to wallow in regrets. We can only move forward and hope to learn from our mistakes.”

“An admirable philosophy, yet I hear the voice of experience there, Meredith. What sort of mistakes have you made?”

“We all make mistakes,” she said, forcing her tone to remain light. “My most recent one occurred only moments ago in this very room.”

He stared at her with an unreadable expression for several heartbeats, then blew out a long breath. “Well. One of the things I liked about you right from the start was your ability to state things in a clear, concise manner.” He inclined his head in salute. “You’ve quite outdone yourself this time.”

Guilt, for the hurt in his voice, and profound regret that things could not be different, collided in her. Drawing a deep breath, she said, “I’ll always treasure what we shared, Philip. I’m not sorry it happened. We simply cannot allow it to happen again.”

Yet even as the words passed her lips, her inner voice yelled, Liar! For she was sorry. Deeply sorry. For herself and the torment the memory of his kiss, his touch, would bring to her. And deeply sorry because those few precious moments in his arms had opened the floodgates to the feminine yearnings she’d so carefully guarded for all these years, making her ache with needs and desires she knew would haunt her long into the lonely nights ahead.

She’d told him she didn’t wallow in regrets, but she knew that tonight, once she was tucked under the covers, she would allow herself one night to wallow, to grieve for her past that would forever keep her from having a man like Philip.

Not trusting himself to be alone with her, Philip arranged for Bakari to accompany Meredith home. Before she left, he explained what had occurred at the warehouse, and cautioned her to be careful. After watching his carriage disappear down the darkened street, he sat on the settee, next to the still-sleeping Prince. Propping his elbows on his knees, Philip lowered his head into his hands.

Bloody hell, what a night.

Pushing aside his conflicted thoughts regarding Meredith for the moment, he turned his attention to the matter he’d forced aside for the bulk of the evening-Edward’s disturbing revelations. Who had attacked him? Had he stolen anything? If so, what? And why? A knot formed in his stomach. Surely it couldn’t be the one item Philip sought. The suffering begins now… Bloody hell, what did that mean? He didn’t know, but he was determined to find out who was behind this. He’d arrive early at the warehouse and assess the damage. He hoped Andrew would feel well enough to accompany him.

Pulling off his spectacles, he rubbed the heels of his palms against his forehead as thoughts of the other part of the evening bombarded him. The party. Granted, most of the young women had been pleasant, and all were undeniably beautiful. Unfortunately, not one had kindled the least spark of interest in him.

Except Meredith.