She was certainly doing that. She’d bested him at every turn. In fact, she was like no other woman he’d ever met. “Thank you.”
The man took a sip of his wine. “I think your friend Mr. Grayson wants you to join him.”
Will pushed himself away from the wall. Andrew stood next to the door where the ladies had made their exit. “Have a good evening, Mr. Henriksen.”
“You too, my lord.”
Once in the corridor, Will tried to keep the frustration from his voice, but his words still came out in a low rumble. “Where is she?”
“The ladies are waiting for us.” Andrew rubbed his jaw. “You may see Miss Villaret only if you promise to behave.”
Behave hell. Will’s jaw tightened. “I’ve conducted myself perfectly well.”
Andrew’s brows shot up. “You’ve acted like a perfect jackanapes, and if you weren’t so caught up in whatViscount Wivenlywants, you’d realize it. I’ll take that as a no.”
Damnation, would they all conspire to keep him from her? “I’ll be fine.”
“You won’t say or do anything to offend her?”
Will ran a hand over his face. “I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”
“See that you are.” Andrew frowned.
Women. They changed everything. Look at what Marcus and Rutherford had done to Beaumont by helping Serena, now Lady Beaumont flee to Paris, and now Andrew had turned on Will. Why was it the moment a man fell in love, he abandoned his friends? It damned sure wasn’t going to happen to him.
Chapter 11
Eugénie waited with Cicely on the torch-lit terrace at the top of the garden. She’d seen the lines of Wivenly’s face become rigid. During the evening, his eyes had grown colder as he’d glared at her, becoming more and more upset with her as the night went on. She prayed it was due to jealousy, but perhaps he thought of her merely as an object to possess. If only she hadn’t been so naïve and stupid as to allow him to kiss her, none of this would be happening.
The sound of long, quick strides ringing on stone reached her just before Mr. Grayson and Wivenly arrived. His friend whispered something in Wivenly’s ear, and he nodded. Yet his lips were set in a straight line. He glanced at her and smiled. If only she knew if the expression was real, but in this light, she couldn’t make out what was in his eyes.
Wivenly took her hand and bowed, kissing the tips of her fingers. “Eugénie, my dear, I think we have started badly.”
Well, that was the first thing he had said she agreed with, but what to do about it? “I believe you are correct, my lord.”
“Let us stroll.”
When she inclined her head, he held out his hand. She’d expected him to place her fingers on his arm, yet he wrapped his arm around her waist as they walked to the end of the veranda.
He leaned against the stone balustrade, turning her to face him. “The moon and stars are beautiful tonight.”
Polite conversation was a good way to begin. “Yes. I have frequently admired the view.”
“You are beautiful as well.” The back of his hand caressed her cheek and continued down her neck.
“Thank you. It is the first time I have worn colors since Papa died.” Tingling followed his fingers and she shuddered. How could she respond to him so easily when she wasn’t even sure she liked him that much?
Slowly, oh so slowly, he drew her to him. Her breath came in small pants as he traced the low neckline of her bodice with one finger.
She shouldn’t allow this, not if she wanted to make him realize she was serious about being treated well. Yet when she would have protested, her body responded to him, to his heat, and the memories of the other night.
Wivenly tilted her head up and his lips touched hers. Once again, she followed his movements, touching her tongue to his, slanting her head when he did. His hand cupped her breast and she moaned. She was in heaven.
“Who taught you how to kiss?” His voice was a low growl.
Eugénie didn’t understand. He ran his tongue over the outside of her ear. She must not have heard what she thought.
“Who else has touched you?” This time his voice was rough. “As your betrothed, I have a right to know.”
