“I suppose there was the night ofTancredi.” Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, and again Philip found himself leaning instinctively closer to her. “Though we promised to pretend that never happened, didn’t we?”
“So far, we have succeeded.”
“So far, yes.”
“Except for right now, I suppose,” he joked.
She laughed. “And all the other times I have thought about that moment.”
Philip cocked his head, watching her realize her mistake. He should have been horrified that she had been thinking about him. But instead, he felt…
Whatdidhe feel?
“All the other times?” he asked, teasing her despite knowing it was wrong. “I had no idea that moment had marked you quite so profoundly.”
“Well, of course, I…” She was flustered, looking down into the footwell like she would find a decent excuse there. “I have had to dissect the moment in my mind to assess the potential damages, the eventualities, the…” She turned to him, her expression darkening. “Oh, you needn’t look so smug, Your Grace.”
“Smug?” He could not stop smiling. “Perish the thought. I am merely surprised at how easily you betrayed yourself. Up until this moment, you had so artfully navigated this strange acquaintance of ours. Forgive me for being amused that the mask has slipped.”
“Yes, well, this night has not been easy. Is it any surprise that I find myself speaking gibberish?” She cast her eyes heavenward, crossing her arms over her chest. “Lucky for you, that other moment will hardly matter if my father gets his way.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“The simple truth. If I were to marry Ashwicken, there would be no need for all this secrecy and fear between us. No one would care about what happened before I became his wife. It would release you from this pact of ours for good. In your position, I would be jumping with joy at the prospect of my betrothal.”
“There is little room to jump in here,” he joked, gesturing around them.
“Indeed. I find myself more aware of the smallness of your coach with every insult you throw my way.” She grinned. “Surely a duke could afford a more luxurious coach?”
“I have a perfectly suitable armory of carriages at my disposal. I took the smallest tonight, not intending to host a stowaway?—”
“A stowaway?”
“A ratherungratefulstowaway, yes.”
“She is not ungrateful,” Anna huffed, uncrossing her arms to lean on the bench. “In fact, she could not be more grateful to you, a stranger, for helping her not once but twice out of impossible situations.”
Philip paused, wanting to continue their banter but feeling powerless to do it while she was so close to him.
“We are hardly strangers anymore,” he said, his voice catching in his throat.
Against his better judgment, he allowed his eyes to fall where they wanted—her lips. They were curled into a smile that instantly disarmed him. Rouge feathered around her cupid’s bow like the night of the opera. But this application hadn’t yet been kissed away like he suspected the last one had.
The thought of leaning in and tasting her crossed his mind. He wanted to—badly—compelled by a dark force that terrified him the moment he noticed its hold on him.
Was it the same force that had consumed his father?
Instantly disgusted with himself, Philip leaned away from her and steadied his breathing. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Anna at first, worried that his desire would come back in full force and compel him to do something they would both regret. When he did look at her out of the corner of his eye, she was smiling beatifically at him, obviously still thinking that they were just playing with one another.
“Not strangers,” she agreed. “But friends, I hope.”
He nodded, unable to do much more than that, even if labeling themfriendswas a joke. They could not be friends. Not now, not ever.
Not after what she had made him feel.
When the carriage finally pulled to a stop around the corner of Grosvenor Square, cloaked in the darkness of the night, Philip steeled his resolve. This had to be the last time they were alone like this. No more secrets and no more helping her, not even for George’s sake.
He couldn’t risk being seen, so he did the ungentlemanly thing and reached over to open her door when she remained seated, waiting for him to exit first. His body stretched across hers, so close that he could feel her breath on his neck. His loneliness had not been good for him. Her hot wash of breath on his exposed skin drove him mad.
