And now that hehadfound her, what did he do? He lied. Pretended to be someone he was not.
It had been a way of life for him, even if he hadn’t been aware of it. But he needed her to want him for him, not because of a title.
When Lady Miranda led Honoria out of the ballroom, the distress on her lovely face was a gut punch. He’d put that look there as surely as if he’d humiliated her in front of the whole assembly.
War raged inside him. He’d wanted to gauge her reaction as he flirted with the other ladies. But the reality of how his actions affected her slammed hard into his chest. Guilt, visceral and raw, gnawed at him.
Back at the window, movement drew his attention to the terrace below. Wind brushed against the gown of seafoam-green that matched her eyes, molding it to her legs. A lock of her auburn hair blew loose, and she tucked it behind her ear, a habit he remembered her doing absentmindedly.
What was she thinking as she stood so still, gazing out at his estate?
Unable to tear his eyes from her, he whispered, “Look up. Look up at me.”
Yet, she did not.
Although Honoria tried to rest,as Burwood suggested, thoughts of Drake invaded her mind, preventing sleep. She redressed, made a feeble attempt to mimic Susan’s carefully crafted coiffure, and crept downstairs.
Earlier on the terrace, she’d admired the luscious gardens of the ducal estate, wishing she could spend more time admiring them—alone. With the crowds dispersed, she stole into the empty ballroom and slipped through the terrace doors.
Soft breezes caressed her skin like a gentle kiss.
She startled at the thought. Why did her mind travel to kisses and caresses? A lock of hair blew free and fluttered against her face. She tucked it behind her ear.
Even looking out at the serene gardens, she felt Drake’s presence as if he were just over her shoulder, waiting for her to turn and run into his arms.
Ninnyhammer.
She resisted the siren call to glance back. It was simply what she had said to Miranda. Exhausted from a poor night’s sleep and tiring journey, she needed rest. And yet thoughts of Drake prevented that as well.
How long would the vicious cycle last until she could break free?
Sweet birdsong serenaded her, easing the ache in her chest. She sat upon the bench, closed her eyes, and listened.
Memories crashed through, demanding to be acknowledged.
Another terrace. Another time.
She’d been looking out her window as dusk fell. Silver light from a full moon gave the gardens a fairytale appearance. In the corner, a shadow moved, catching her attention. As the shadow took shape, she cupped her hands around her eyes to shield them from the candlelight in her bedroom.
Her heart raced as Drake raised a hand in a wave, then motioned for her to come down.
Naughtiness trickled down her spine, swinging around to settle low in her belly. She pressed her lips together, debating her course of action.
Drake motioned to her again.
After grabbing the candle at her bedside, she cracked open her door and listened. Even at that early hour, silence filled the halls. Her parents were attending a soiree at Baron Harcourt’s and wouldn’treturn until morning. Honoria had expressed disappointment at not being included, but at sixteen she had not yet had her come out.
However, as she tiptoed into the hall and down the staircase, she said a prayer of thanks for her parents’ absence.
Seated on the bench of the terrace, she and Drake talked for hours under the moonlight until gooseflesh covered her arms, and he insisted she go back inside to warm herself.
He rose and held out his hand. “Allow me to assist you up, my lady.”
When her fingers touched his, the gooseflesh flared to life even more. Their eyes locked, and as his gaze drifted toward her mouth, her knees grew weak.
He licked his lips.
A yearning low inside urged her to say something she shouldn’t. “Will you kiss me?”
