Her shaking fingers barely managed to scrawl those few lines before Augusta put aside her pen with a sharp intake of breath that sought to control her racing pulse. Trying to avoid yet another glance at the latest letter that had been forwarded by her publisher, she sealed the note and rang for a footman to take it away.
As the door fell shut, Augusta allowed herself to slump back in her chair. A muffled groan followed.
And then another.
Ye heavens, she wasn’t exactly sure how she had contrived to climb down from the phaeton and negotiate the steps of the townhouse without collapsing like some hysterical peagoose in a horrid novel. Indeed, her legs still felt as quivery as jellied aspic.
It simply couldn’t be possible!
Her gaze stole back to the bold script covering the single sheet of cream-colored stationery that lay on her desk … drawing yet another groan as she covered her face with her hands.
To think that the thoughtful, sensitive and compelling author of that missive was one and the same gentleman with the sardonic, cynical and decidedly rakish Earl of Dunham!
How apt that “Tinder” was the moniker he had chosen for his other, hidden self, for he had certainly set her world on fire.
Augusta’s hands slid down to cover her burning cheeks and more than several of the newly-learned oaths came to mind. It was one thing to have developed a tendre for someone who only existed on paper. After all, it was merely an … intellectual exercise. But it was quite another thing to find that the compassionate thinker whose bent of mind was so in harmony with hers was also, in the flesh, a maddeningly attractive gentleman with flashing blue eyes and a raffish smile that sent a frisson of heat spiraling deep inside her.
Suddenly, the passion was all too real.
She pressed her eyes closed, as if she could avoid seeing the awful truth. But brutal honesty compelled her to admit it—she was in love with him.
It wasn’t as if she wished to be. But she was.
Pushing up from her chair, she rose and began to pace back and forth in front of the blazing fire. Each crackle and hiss of the logs seemed to echo the emotions flaming inside her.Goddamnspawn of Satan!Now the question was … what was she going to do about it?
It was a devilishly difficult situation, but the more she thought about it, the more one thing became very clear. The only notion more absurd than finding herself in love with the Earl of Dunham was to imagine that he might ever feel a grain of such sentiment in regards to her.
Augusta’s steps faltered as a number of his words came echoing back in her head. He had made it quite clear that the list of things that attracted him to a female did not include a brain, but rather other, more obvious, physical attributes. In addition, he had made reference to the fact that his vast experience with the opposite sex had led him to form a firm opinion that even if a lady had a brain, she was incapable of using it for any meaningful endeavor.
In short, there was only one way in which he wished to engage with a lady
She swallowed hard. So he would no doubt be shocked if it came to light that the male friend whose opinions he held in such high esteem was … her.
Actually, he would be more than shocked. He would be furious.
If she had understood Edwin correctly, the sort of things Marcus had revealed to her in his letters were intimacies that one might only discuss with a close friend after more than a few bottles of port at their club. She had a feeling that the same sort of silly pride that made gentlemen aim pistols at each other from twenty paces would make it impossible for him to acknowledge that the counsel and camaraderie the two of them had shared was no less real simply because she did not wear breeches and boots.
Well, at least not most of the time.
Drat Society!Drat convention!
Augusta was beginning to feel angry in her own right, for it appeared that something that she had come to value above all things was going to be destroyed for no sensible reason. Blinking back tears, she realized how important the honesty and trust that had developed between them had become to her, and how loath she was to give it up. For several minutes, her half boots beat an angry tattoo over the thick Oriental carpet, then her steps slowed and she reached out to pick up his latest letter.
As she toyed with the thick paper, taking in the faint scent of bay rum and tobacco, it slowly occurred to her that things didn’t have to change, not if he never learned the true identity of “Firebrand.”
She might not ever be able to hope for his love, but she had his friendship and that was equally as precious. She meant to keep it.
Augusta began pacing with renewed vigor. Though Marcus suspected some common thread somehow tied their two investigations together, she was sure he had not begun to guess at the real truth. The note she had just sent off in which she announced the hiring of the Runners might serve to delay any further action on Firebrand’s behalf for a bit. He was too astute to be fobbed off for long, but in the meantime, she would have a chance to think of some other reason to put him off—or to solve the crimes herself.
Dealing with the earl on paper was one thing. Facing those mesmerizing blue eyes was quite another. She made another turn around the room, then paused once again before the desk. There was really no choice but to sever all contact with him—and the sooner the better. The waltzes, the carriage rides, the conspiratorial walks in the garden would all have to end. It was far too dangerous otherwise … She feared his deductive powers were too sharp not to eventually cut through the shroud ofmystery surrounding this entire affair, leaving her exposed as the incendiary reformer.
But more than that, she feared she would never be able to hide her true feelings from his penetrating gaze. Would he find it amusing that even an aging bluestocking was not immune to his charms? Or merely pathetic? Augusta wasn’t sure she could bear his pity.
She had already revealed too much of her soul, however unwittingly, to the Earl of Dunham. The state of her heart she preferred to keep her own little secret.
Of course there would have to be a reason to cut things off. A bitter smile played on her lips as she picked up the brass letter opener and ran her thumb along its edge. It shouldn’t be so difficult to find a reason to quarrel—after all, they had a good deal of practice in it.
However, this time, decided Augusta, she would have to make sure that despite the earl’s feelings of duty to the memory of her brother, he was driven off for good.
