A trait he’d once said was so precious to him. A trait Casper so cherished.
And yet she was mired in deception.
“I cannot,” Evelyn professed.
He pretended no confusion. “Why?”
Chains lashed firm her heart and tongue as she pictured the duke’s expression when he comprehended her trickery – the anger, disappointment and hurt.
I’m no innocent but a forger with an evil debt collector on my tail.
I’m no widow but a virgin spinster without the experience to satisfy a duke.
And one day you’ll discard me to marry a seventeen-year-old debutante with a thousand acres and unblemished hands.
And I am so afraid I would fall in love with you.
“I do not wish to bear a babe out of wedlock.” Weak but true.
An odd gleam entered his eye. “There are ways to prevent that.”
Were there? Why had Flora never mentioned that? “Nevertheless, I cannot take the risk.”
He tilted his head and then reached out to graze his thumb along the seam of her lips. “I concur with your rationale.”
“You do?”
“Yes. You must protect yourself and your sister, which you do, and that is all anyone can ask.”
“It is?” Concentration on his words blurred as that thumb continued its caress.
“I admire such noble resolve.”
“You do?” And hadn’t they had this conversation.
“Hmm. And yes, you will stay for another week.”
“We will?”
“Of course, I see no reason why not. Cousin Lydia is content hunting the library for evidence that Mary Magdalena was a redhead; Ernest enjoys quotingA Sicilian Romanceat me; and Uncle deems your taste in his apparel immaculate. It also means I have time.”
“Time?” That damn thumb still brushed. Back and forth.
“Time to bare your secrets.”
“Secrets can hurt,” she whispered.
“Secrets can release you,” he countered.
Eyes closed. Her lips parted beneath that pressing thumb. “I’m–”
“Save yer breath to cool yer porridge, Coppers!” a honied tone bellowed outside the door followed by a rapacious knock. “Evie? Are you in there? We needs yer upstair–” Harsh whispering ensued. “Wot was that, Coppers? I can’t hear yer.” A muffled murmur. “Ohhhh. Right yer are.” A delicate ahem. “Mrs Swift? Is one present, perchance?” An intermittent scratch to the door… “We needs yer arse upstairs as I can’t find that soddin’ potion the quack left, and yer sister’s hacking her gizzards up.”
Evelyn raised her lids to Casper’s amused grin. “’Tis no secret,” he drawled, at last removing his thumb, “that she is no maid. What did she offer me earlier? Oh yes, ‘a swive for a shilling’.”
Her eyes widened. What had Flora done?
“She is rather new to it all, I will agree.” Evelyn gave a rueful sigh. “I must attend to my sister.”
