She bellowed her sentences, beyond caring if there was a housemaid spying in the hall. Before she could react though, he leapt up, and in a sly, smooth move, he yanked the gun away and pitched it onto the floor behind her. It slid across the polished boards and crashed into the wall, causing it to fire toward the dressing room.
A huge puff of smoke filled the air, and her ears rang from the loud bang. They were frozen in their spots, wondering if the commotion had been noticed, if people might rush up to knock on the door and ask what had happened. But no one came and no one knocked.
He broke their stunned silence. “Do you feel better? You could have killed me with that thing.”
“I wish I had!”
“I can’t believe it was loaded.” He looked irked, but impressed too. “You would have shot me. You really would have!”
“You’d have deserved it,” she spat.
He swooped in and drew her into his arms, and he tried to kiss her, but she wiggled away. She couldn’t let him. Despite how furious she was, despite how he’d upset her, she was putty in his hands. No matter what he did, her obsession would never completely wane.
If he kissed her, if he was kind and sweet, she would never muster the fortitude to separate herself, and she’d sworn to Lord Roland that she would.
Her assignation at Barrett had sealed her fascination. She was madly in love and yearned to be by his side forever, but as Lord Roland had gallingly clarified, she could never grab the spot she was hoping to occupy.
She was too lowly to have Lucas Watson for her very own. She’d started out at the right level, but circumstances—and her insane mother—had plucked her out of it, so she was too common and too shameful to attach herself.
“Would you tell me what’s wrong?” he said.
“You still don’t know? I thought I was quite clear.”
“Yes, you were, but could we deal with it in a rational manner? I don’t understand why we have to shout and quarrel.”
“You wouldn’t,” she seethed, and the anger finally drained out of her.
She felt as if she’d deflated, as if her bones had turned to rubber. She’d never been a fighter, but he simply drove her to extremes she’d never previously experienced.
She staggered over to a chair and eased down, worried—if she didn’t sit down—she might fall down. Of course he was too pompous to leave her alone so she could lick her wounds in private. He picked up a second chair and dragged it over, and he sat too, but much too near so their feet and legs were tangled together.
He clasped her hand and linked their fingers, and she let him do it. Even now, even when she was too livid for words, she couldn’t erect any walls and keep them in place.
From the minute she’d fled Barrett, she’d wanted to tarry in a quiet room and talk to him. Here they were, by themselves, and she supposed it would be the last occasion she talked to him about anything.
“I’m sorry I discussed you with Charles,” he said. “When he raised the issue of our night at Barrett, I was taken off guard and too flummoxed to deny it.”
“Fine. I will accept your explanation of what occurred.”
“I never meant to embarrass you.”
“Fine,” she said again.
“Charles thought you should depart Roland. He figured—when you and I were in such close proximity—we’re just courting trouble.”
“I specifically noticed that he didn’t ask you to depart. It’s obvious he deems me to be at fault for this mess.” Sarcastically, she added, “I’m such a temptress!”
“He doesn’t view either of us as being at fault, and he was hardly judgmental. He was young once, and he had his own torrid affair.”
“He certainly did,” she caustically stated.
She pondered her crazed mother and wished she had an acquaintance who’d been cordial with her parents back when they’d met. How had stoic, polite Lord Roland ever been lured to such folly? In any scandal involving amour, the woman was always blamed, so her mother must have been fantastically beautiful and exotic to have coaxed him to such blatant ruin.
“Charles is not exactly in a position to condemn us,” he said.
“He seemed plenty condemning to me.”
“I hate to hear it, but would you stop fuming over it?” He sighed with exasperation. “You’re making this much more difficult than it has to be.”
“How am I making it difficult? I’ve been accused of being loose and immoral, and I’ve been ordered to vacate the premises. I’ve agreed that I would, and since I’m prepared to behave precisely as has been requested, please clarify how I’m being difficult.”
“Charles has been through a situation like this, and he thinks we could both benefit from an interval apart.”
“He thinks you could benefit. I’ve constantly tried to avoid you, but you pestered me until I relented and gave you what you sought.”
“It was grand though, wasn’t it?” He snorted with amusement. “Don’t you dare claim it wasn’t. If it were up to me, I’d carry you back to Barrett, toss you in my bed again, and keep you in it forever.”
She almost said, You could take me there if you wanted, but she swallowed down the comment.
He was a rich, powerful nobleman who could act however he liked. He didn’t have to listen to Charles Pendleton, and his decision to obey Lord Roland was an overt indication of his true opinion.
Oh, he could whine and insist he was just being courteous, but the reason Libby had to slink away was so he could focus on whether he’d still like to propose to Penny.
Libby had fornicated with him, but he hadn’t been careful at the end. He’d spilled his seed into her womb, so he’d placed her in incredible jeopardy. What if she wound up with child? By the time she discovered that the worst had transpired, he’d likely be wed to Penny. What then?
“You’ll leave
