“I cannot,” Guinevere blurted, a desperate look in her eyes. “The Marquess of Kilgore already requested I pair with him. He was going to speak with our hostess.”
Her words blew over him like an icy Highland wind. Was this his answer? Was he a fool not to hear it? Take it. And forget the possibility of pursuing Guinevere.
Guinevere’s mother waved a dismissive hand, narrowing her gaze on Guinevere. “I’ll speak with Lady Barrowe and take care of the arrangements. Until tomorrow, Your Grace,” she rushed out, snatching Guinevere to her and practically dragging her out of the corridor.
Though the two women disappeared from sight immediately, the countess’s voice drifted loudly to him as she spoke to Guinevere. “You foolish, foolish, girl. Everyone knows Kilgore likely will never settle down, but Carrington, on the other hand, has proven with his marriage to Elizabeth that he is more than amenable to wedding. You are now quite as pretty as she was. He’d never throw you over now. Don’t ruin this for yourself. And if you cannot think of your own future, think of your sisters’.”
“Yes, Mama,” Guinevere replied, her voice wooden.
Lady Constantine’s words about Asher not seeing what he thought he had seen came back to him as Guinevere’s and her mother’s footsteps faded. Tonight, he’d thought he’d seen the Guinevere that had betrayed him and then the lass who had entranced him. Which Guinevere was the true Guinevere? For his purposes, it didn’t matter, but he could not let the question go unanswered. Now that he had acknowledged it, he had to know.
What if what he’d believed he saw years before was not as it had seemed? That would change everything. And if it was exactly as he’d thought, he was in the spot he’d all along believed himself to be in. He would still need to ascertain if Guinevere truly had feelings for Kilgore. Perhaps the man had been toying with her for years, offering her small hope when there was none.
He thought of Lady Constantine once more. He needed to speak to her and uncover the true nature of her attachment to Kilgore. Had the man given her hope, too? If the man was toying with the two women, he felt honor bound to warn Guinevere before removing himself from her life forever.
Chapter Ten
“You look bonny this afternoon, lass,” Asher said as he took her gloved hand and pressed a kiss to the top of it.
Gooseflesh rose on her arm and raced across every surface of her body. Drat the man that his lips and a disingenuous compliment made her all shivery.
“I will tell my lady’s maid, Ballenger, that you think so,” she said coolly. “She dressed my hair and chose my gown.” Guinevere tugged her hand from his hold and swept what she hoped was an impervious look over him. Unfortunately, she was positive the effect was ruined when she dropped her attention all the way to his shiny black Hessians and worked her way slowly upward. Asher brought out a wicked side of her.
My, but he looked quite splendid in buff-colored pantaloons. They molded to his thighs, confirming his muscles were every bit as perfectly proportioned as she had long imagined. She swallowed and continued her inspection up those delicious Viking legs to his slim hips. She paused there a breath, recalling how his hips had brushed against her when they had danced.
Heat licked her insides as she came to his chest, where the rich outlines of his shoulders strained against the white linen fabric of his shirt. Her mouth went dry as she stared at the broad expanse of his chest. “Where is your coat?”
Egads, she sounded breathless!
The other participants of the scavenger hunt, which had just begun, were venturing in various directions, all eager to take the prize, which was the winner’s choice in picking their partner for tomorrow’s entertainment of short skits.
“Just here,” he said, and she jerked her gaze up to his eyes.
Tiny lines of amusement crinkled around his warm chocolate eyes, and her belly clenched. Why could he not have become less attractive than he was five years ago instead of more? It didn’t seem fair. He held up his coat, clutched in his right hand, and then began to put it on. She should look away, but it would take a herculean effort she didn’t care to put forth in this moment. He was grace personified. It came effortlessly to him, as it would only to one born with superior physical attributes mere mortals could never hope to obtain.
“It was blazing in the hothouse,” he said.
In her opinion, it was a thousand times hotter out here with him releasing such singeing heat. “Yes, it is,” she said and winced, realizing her mistake. “Was.Yes, itwas, but it isn’t the done thing to remove your coat.”
She expected a sharp rejoinder, but what she got was a tender smile that made her insides turn to aspic.
“Perhaps ye can teach me all the rules I need to navigate Society properly,” he suggested. “It seems I still don’t know them.”
She glanced around to ensure no one was listening, as the conversation could be construed as quite scandalous. Her lips parted in surprise. They were alone. Everyone else had scurried off, and she had not even realized it. How many times in the past had she longed for an opportunity to be alone with him and she had only had three? She could recall each one with utter clarity. And now, here they were, alone—so alone they could have an intimate conversation, or brush hands, or even steal a kiss. Her lips tingled with the memory of every kiss he’d ever given her, but especially the most recent one.
That had been a kiss of lust—hersandhis. At least she knew the truth of the matter now. No more silly girlhood fantasies for her. She had to keep her mind on the task—the treasure hunt—and on learning why he was suddenly being so nice to her—almost flirting, it seemed.
She cleared her throat to ensure she sounded neither breathless nor husky, and then she said, “I’m certain there are scores of ladies who would be more than happy to teach you all the rules of Society you need to know to swim along like the most capable of fish.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed, buttoning his coat, which made him look even more dashing. “But I don’t want any lass but ye to teach me.”
“What are you doing?” she demanded, shaking the scavenger list she clutched in her hand at him.
“Carrying on a conversation,” he said in a vexingly imperturbable manner.
“I mean,” she replied, her temper rising as she seethed, “what. Are. You. Doing? I am not a prize to be won!”
His eyes glinted at her with a look that jolted her heart. “Are ye certain, lass?”
