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Henri knew her cheeks flamed. She had been wrong to turn her head and invite him to kiss her. She was the one who had behaved like a courtesan.
She ran her tongue over her aching lips, trying to remember what she was, trying to recapture that sense that she was destined to die a widow, but it was gone. And in its place brand-new feelings coursed through her, shocking her.
She’d spent her whole adult life being one person and tonight she learnt she’d lived a lie. Her feelings for Edmund had never included dark passion and that wasn’t her fault. Desire and temptation flooded through her. And looking under hooded eyes at him, she knew she couldn’t risk confiding any of this to him. It was all too new. She needed time to make sense of it, to make sure that she was not going to get hurt again.
He stood there, looking at her. His eyes were dilated and she knew the kiss had affected him as well. But he made no move to recapture her.
‘I’m overtired.’ Her voice echoed in the silence, far too high and shrill, and she knew she was taking the coward’s way out. ‘I will retire on my own. Please give my apologies to Sophie and Mrs Ravel. I had wanted to greet them when they returned. The news of Sophie’s triumph will have to wait.’
‘I’m not keeping you here.’
The firelight threw a shadow on his face. She wished he had protested. Or drawn her into his arms again. Her stomach knotted. She wanted to lay her head against his chest and listen to the steady thump of his heart. She made herself go and pick up her discarded book.
‘I know.’ Conventionality might not be morality but she knew it kept her safe. ‘I’ve trespassed on your hospitality. You returned for a reason.’
‘You are a guest. You have behaved impeccably. It is I who should beg your pardon.’
‘No pardon is needed…on either side.’ Her voice sounded breathy to her ears. ‘We remain in the utmost civility…as friends.’
‘It is good to have you as a friend.’ His rich voice filled the room. ‘I would hate to miss our discussions. We haven’t fully explored the implications of the scientific method.’
Relief flooded through her. He wanted to see her again. He did not think her wanton. And she could think about her response, instead of having the room spinning, pushing her towards him. ‘I look forward to it.’
A tiny smile crossed his features. ‘Then it’s settled. Our acquaintance will continue.’
‘I’d like that.’
‘Until the next time, Henri.’ His rich voice floated after her. ‘Sleep well. There is no need to fear—anything.’
Henri stumbled up the stairs, not daring to turn around and see him. If he held out his arms, she’d be in them. Robert Montemorcy was far too tempting. Once she was back in the safety of Aunt Frances’s, then she could remember all the reasons why Edmund was irreplaceable. Suddenly Edmund’s kisses seemed like watered milk compared to the smooth intoxication of Robert’s mouth moving against hers. Henri raised her eyes to the gilt ceiling, trying to get her racing heart under control. This time, she’d grown up. This time, she had learnt her lesson. This time she kept her heart safe.
Chapter Ten
Henri stood in the New Lodge’s entranceway, her bonnet set firmly on her head. The carriage wheels crunched on the driveway, coming to a stop just outside the door. Aunt Frances’s note this morning was a gift from the gods. It made her decision easy. She wasn’t running from her feelings. She had responsibilities and people needed her.
‘You’re determined to go,’ Sophie said with a pretty frown. ‘Robert will be disappointed. He mentioned nothing about it at the ball. Did you see him after the ball?’
Henri tied the ribbons of her poke bonnet tighter. ‘Why?’
‘I’d wondered. I swore I could hear the musical box as I came into the front hall, but it must have been my imagination. Stepmama thought my hearing needed attention. And if you go, Doctor Lumley will have no need to call.’
‘An excuse will be found.’ Henri forced a smile on to her lips. They’d had a lucky escape. She hated to think what Sophie would have said if she had seen them locked in an embrace, with her pressing her body against Robert’s.
Robert had departed because he did not wish to face her. His business was smoke and mirrors to hide what had passed between them. She knew that. It made it easier to carry out her decision. If he was here, she’d have been tempted to stay, but after last night that would not be a good idea. She had to put distance between them and see if the attraction was real or some imagined thing. Far too often the close confines of a visit led to imagined affection. What Sebastian called Country House Fever—a malady of closeness rather than something real and lasting.
