“Is there a certain man you wish to test the mistletoe with?”
Hells. He’d guessed.
“I must, you know. It’s part of the plan—comfort, interests, kisses. You said so yourself, George. These are the things a woman should consider in a husband before she makes her choice.”
Did he snarl? Surely not.
Flustered, Jane turned, picking at a wrinkle in her skirt. “The others will arrive soon. You should leave.”
“I don’t think I will.” He grabbed an apple from a table, shined it on his trousers, and bit into it, the snap of teeth into tart green skin accompanying the plop of his body onto a nearby chair.
“I do not need you here for this, George. You may scare the men into false answers to my questions.”
“I will ensure everything is above board. Think of me, if you will, as a moderator. If I feel anyone is being untruthful, I’ll point it out. If I think there’s another question that must be asked, I’ll offer it. If there is any miscommunication, I will resolve it.”
Jane turned from him. “You are a helpful wonder, aren’t you?” she mumbled.
“I am.” The corner of George’s lips twisted upward. “I’ll sit right here and watch the party tie bits of greenery up with ribbon. I’ll only interject when absolutely necessary. And by the day’s end, I’ll have a sober and logical suggestion or two for you. Isn’t that why you’re doing this? To ensure you make a practical choice? Having a second opinion would surely benefit the decision-making process.”
“You’re correct. Of course. There’s no reason you should not be present. To help, that is.” She should not feel like her words were attempts to convince herself of something. She stretched her fingers and looked toward the door. “I wonder what’s taking them so long.”
He held the ribbon in his lap, rubbing his thumb up and down its satiny length. “Perhaps they do not wish to interrupt.”
“Interrupt? What?”
“Us. Kissing under the mistletoe.”
“Ha! Do not be absurd. Why in heaven’s name would they think that?”
He shrugged. “We cannot know if it’s absurd unless we try.”
She stared wide-eyed, disbelieving. But the image of George kissing her lips as he’d kissed the tip of her braid last night… she could not shake it. Did not know if she wanted to. She retreated to the far end of the table strewn with greenery, putting as much space between them as possible.
“It would be a disaster if they thought you and I were kissing.”
“Not at all,” he said. “The idea that you are kissing anyone will get them thinking about you kissing them. It might even spark jealousy.”
Ah. That was it. He did not truly wish to kiss her. He wished to gain the suitors’ attention through less noble sentiments.
“You cannot guarantee their minds will make that leap. Ha. Jealous. I say again, George—absurd. It’s you. And me. And kissing.”
He stalked around the table and pressed close enough to her that he had to look down to see into her eyes. “And I say again—not so absurd.” He lifted his good hand and traced the outline of her face with his thumb.
She jerked away from the caress.
The corner of his lip lifted slowly into a smile that was either predatory or alluring. Damnable smile. Those two things should not be so confusable. One should be able to tell at once whether a man would pounce on you or speak sweet words to you.
And yet, what if a woman wanted both pouncing and sweet words?Hells. Now she was being absurd too.
She glared at him.
He turned and sauntered away, settling into a chair at the farthest end of the room and looking distinctly smug.
“Are you ready for us, Lady Jane?”
Jane spun to the open door. “Mr. Dour. How nice you’ve joined us. Iamready for the entire lot of you. And Mr. Quillsby and Mr. Newburton. We’re all here? Excellent.”
Lillian slunk through the door, too, and a few steps behind her, Lord Devon.Hells. It would have been better had he stayed away. But perhaps the rush of pointed conversation between Jane and her suitors would inspire Lillian and Devon to some conversation of their own.
