Still, that begged the question of whether she loved Kit or could love him. She liked that he took responsibility. He had even owned up to neglecting Rose Hill. He had a good sense of humor. He enjoyed gossip and admitted it. Not many of the gentlemen she knew, the number being pitifully small, would ever disclose that. He was kind to her and to their tenants, especially to the children, and the servants. It must mean something that she wanted to kiss him. If only he would oblige her by kissing her, she would know if she loved him, and more importantly if he loved her.
“My lady?”
“What is it, Mathers?”
“It’s time to dress for dinner. Shall I put out the deep rose?”
“That’s fine.”
“What’s got you so blue deviled?”
“Nothing. I’m just trying to figure something out.”
“Mayhap Mr. Featherton could help.”
No, no, no! He was the last person she could turn to. Mary frowned. “I don’t think so. That is who I’m having problems with.”
Mathers stilled. “He hasn’t—”
“Oh, good gracious no!” Mary shook her head. “That’s part of the problem.”
Her dresser sniffed. “I think you’ve been reading too many of those romance novels.”
She would not go round and round with her maid about that. The only things Mathers read were sermons and improving works. “I do not wish to discuss it.”
Her maid muttered something about young ladies going to the devil. “Let me untie this gown and get you into the other.”
When Mary entered the drawing room, Eunice and Mr. Doust were in conversation, and Kit stood off by himself, holding a glass of sherry loosely in his fingers. She pasted a smile on her face. “Good evening.”
He came to her immediately, took her hand, and raised it. “I was beginning to worry something might be amiss.”
Mary met his gaze as he searched her face. Hehadbeen concerned. Did he really care about her? “I could not decide what to wear.” A small smile appeared on his lips. Oh, those lips. She’d dreamed about them last night and had woken kissing her pillow. He touched them to her fingers, and she thought she’d gone to heaven. “I am sorry for being late.”
“You could never be late. I told Simons to put dinner back for a quarter hour.”
No wonder her dresser had been in a hurry. She was always on time. What was happening to her? “Thank you.”
Wrong. This was all wrong. She thought she might be falling in love, and he did not love her at all. Perhaps she should tell him she had found a way out of their grandmothers’ trap. But then everything would be even more uncomfortable than it already was, and their friends were arriving soon.
What a pickle! Perhaps when Phoebe, Anna, and Caro left for Edinburgh, Mary would go with them. Away from Mr. Perfect and all her less-than-perfect feelings.
Kit placed Mary’s hand on his arm. Damn if he hadn’t fallen in love with her. He dreamt of nothing else but her. He couldn’t even remember what had occupied his dreams before Mary had come into his life.
Last night he’d wanted to open the door between their chambers and show her how much he desired her. If they had been alone, he would have run his fingers through her hair, allowing it to fall down her back. That it was long, he’d surmised, but did it flow to her waist or her hips? How he wanted to feel its silky texture, bury his nose in it and fill his senses with her scent.
He would have fused his lips to hers, nipped and licked his way down her graceful neck, then to the sensitive base. Kit wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman before. How many times now had he almost kissed her? But to act on his desires would be to dishonor her, and he could not do that to the lady for whom he cared so much. If only he knew she had the same feelings for him as he did for her, then he could propose and put himself out of this misery. “What do you have planned for dinner to-night?”
She dropped her gaze, and when she spoke, her voice was toneless. “I only remember we have cockle soup to start.”
Drat it all, somehow he’d hurt her. He’d rather take a knife to his gut than injure her in any way at all. “It sounds wonderful.”
When Mary tugged her hand, he let it go. “As you are aware,” she said in a sour tone, “I am a good housewife.” She turned to Doust and smiled. “What a pleasure to have you join us again.”
He slanted a glance at Eunice. “The pleasure, my lady, is all mine. I hope I have not outworn my welcome.”
“No, indeed. We enjoy your company.”
At least Doust and Lady Eunice were happy. Kit was about to drag Mary out of the room and find out what the devil he’d done, when Simons saved Kit from himself. “Dinner is served.”
