“They are coming this way,” she whispered.
He glanced toward the path, catching the flicker of parasols and bright muslin through the leaves. The guests were wandering toward the rose garden.
“Let them,” he said under his breath. “What care have I?—”
But she was already stepping back, and her composure was snapping into place with alarming swiftness. The flush on her cheeks remained, but her voice regained that careful, measured calm.
“I care,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes. “I cannot…” She stopped herself, as if the rest were too dangerous to finish. “I must go.”
He reached out before he could think better of it, but his fingers didn’t reach her arm. “Matilda?—”
She hesitated just long enough for him to see the war between pride and something deeper, then shook her head once. “Please, Your Grace.”
The title stung.
She turned, as her skirts whispered against the path, and walked swiftly toward the approaching voices. He watched her go until she disappeared beyond the hedge. The laughter grew louder as others entered the garden, but Jasper barely heard it. His pulse still thundered in his ears, as his mouth still tasted of her.
He ran a hand through his hair, swore softly under his breath, and sank back against the bench. The roses swayed in the breeze, mere silent witnesses to his folly.
What had he done?
No… what hadshedone tohim?
Matilda could not think. She could scarcely breathe.
What have I done?
The question beat in her mind with every hurried step. She had allowed him…him, of all men, to kiss her. And worse, she had kissed him back.
The memory of it still burned through her like fire beneath her skin. It had been wild, unrestrained, and utterly without reason. Never in her life had anyone touched her in such a manner without demand, without deceit. There had been no thought, only the rush of something fierce and alive, something she had thought long dead within her. And yet…
How foolish. How dangerous.
She slowed as the hedge opened into the wide green of the lawn. The chatter of guests washed over her like a sudden tide,bringing her back into familiar surroundings. She drew a long breath and smoothed her skirts with trembling fingers.
The Dowager Viscountess of Forth would not appear flustered. Not over a man. Certainly not overhim.
“Matilda!”
Cordelia smiled as she waved from beneath a striped canopy. “Wherever have you been? Hazel was convinced you’d been kidnapped by one of the gardeners.”
“I told her you were too sensible for that,” Hazel said, handing her a glass of lemonade. “Though perhaps not too proud to hide from the heat.”
Matilda forced a small smile and accepted the glass. “The roses were calling to me,” she replied. Her voice sounded miraculously steady. “I could not resist.”
Cordelia’s eyes sparkled with suspicion. “You look flushed. Did the roses quarrel with you?”
“Only with my composure,” Matilda replied, which made Cordelia laugh and Hazel roll her eyes.
“You truly must take better care in the sun,” Hazel said, fussing as she adjusted Matilda’s bonnet. “We cannot have you swooning like the heroines in Cordelia’s novels.”
“Perish the thought,” Matilda murmured, though her heart still beat far too fast for comfort.
She sank onto a nearby chair, pretending to study the guests scattered across the lawn. Evelyn stood at a distance with her husband, radiant and laughing. As always, she was the picture of contentment. Cordelia and Hazel continued to chatter about the music and the upcoming baptism. It was all so normal and so perfectly ordinary that it felt like a play she had once known by heart and was now performing on trembling legs.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement by the hedge. Jasper had returned as if nothing had happened. He was speaking to Lord Greyson, smiling that easy, careless smile he wore so well. No one would suspect that only moments before, he had looked at her as though he would devour her whole.
Her fingers tightened around the glass.
