That was not what Dom had wanted to hear. Which was occurring much too often recently. “I’ll go talk with her.”
An evil smile appeared on his cousin’s face. “You want my advice? Grovel.”
“Grovel?” Why the hell was everyone telling him that? “Merton does not grovel.”
Matt stood, walked around his desk, and stuck out his hand. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”
Good Lord. The man was serious. Egad. “Where can I buy flowers?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Dotty sat on the small sofa beneath the window in the Young Ladies’ Parlor and took a sip of her now-cold tea.
“We could send for a new pot,” Charlotte suggested.
“Or a new betrothed,” Louisa added archly.
Needing to unburden herself to sympathetic female ears, Dotty had given in to her urge to confide in her two friends. She would have been better off going to the Pulteney and crying in her grandmother’s lap. Not that her friends weren’t understanding. They had never been in love. Which for some strange reason seemed to make all the difference in the world.
Even she had trouble understanding her conflicting emotions. What made it worse was that Dom hadn’t come after her. Even though she did not wish to see him and had given orders that she was not at home to him, he could have at least tried.
She placed her cup on the table in front of the couch. “No, thank you. I think I’ll just lie down for a bit. Where are we going this evening?”
“Youareblue-deviled,” Charlotte exclaimed. “It’s Miss Smyth’s birthday ball.”
“Oh yes.” Dotty rose from the sofa. “How could I have forgotten?”
Charlotte gave Dotty a hug. “You will feel better with a rest. I just wish I knew how to help you.”
Suddenly, the door crashed against the wall. Holding a bouquet of red roses, Dom strode into the room, grabbed her hand, and tugged her to him.
How dare he presume . . . “I told—”
His lips crushed hers as he wrapped one strong arm around her waist tugging her against him. His scent and the roses’ mixed, overwhelming her senses. He slid his tongue over the seam of her lips and she opened, sinking into him. Giving her no chance to catch up, he drove his tongue into her mouth as if he’d claim her forever. Then she slid her hands over his shoulders and tilted her head, wanting more, wanting him.
After several long moments, when it felt as if they were breathing through one another, he lifted his head. “I’m sorry for my behavior.” Backing up a little, but not releasing her, he handed her the bouquet. “These are for you.”
Relief flooded her as she buried her nose in the flowers. “They are lovely. You’ve never given me flowers before.”
“I shall have them delivered every day for the rest of your life if you wish.”
She gave a wet chuckle. “Thank you, but if you did that, they would grow commonplace.”
Placing one finger under her chin, he tilted her head up. “I should not have said what I did, and in the way I did. I should also have believed you about Tom and the ladies.”
His deep blue eyes stirred like an ocean eddy. Warmth warring with fear. She cupped his cheek. “We will figure it out together.”
A little puff of air escaped his lips, as if he’d been holding his breath. “Thank you.” He kissed her once more lightly. “What were you about to say as I entered?”
Her cheeks warmed with a blush. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Smiling, he bent his head again and someone cleared her throat.
“Well. We are ratherde trop.” Louisa glanced at Charlotte. “I believe I remember that Grace wished to speak with us?”
“What? Oh yes.” Charlotte grinned. “Dotty, we’ll see you later. Merton, I shall tell the cook to expect you to join us for dinner.”
“That will give them plenty of time,” Louisa said as they closed the door. “I think I’m beginning to understand the attraction.”
