Page 40 of One Waltz with the Viscount

It was an impossible situation, and he had not known what to do about it. But, as always, his old friend had been much more aware of what was going on in his house than Henry had given him credit for.

‘I came to realise Louisa still harboured certain feelings towards me.’

Lord Shrewsbury had sat him down one evening and poured out two glasses of whiskey. He had done the hard part of putting into words what he had seen and sensed, never once blaming Henry or asking him to leave.

‘Lord Shrewsbury knows,’ Miss Shepherd guessed.

‘Yes. Louisa loves him too, in her own way. I don’t think she would ever act on her feelings towards me, she is aware I value my friendship with her husband too highly, and that I love her as a friend, nothing more. Shrewsbury accepts what he cannot change, and has never once placed the blame at my door.’ He motioned vaguely at the carriage they were sitting in. ‘Most of the time it manifests in a concern for my happiness, which is not in any way scandalous, but sometimes she does get a little overprotective.’

‘I am hardly a threat.’

Henry regarded the young woman sitting opposite him and realised there was no guile behind her words, no desire for him to react, to compliment her. She truly believed she was insignificant, not worthy of notice.

He swallowed, his eyes raking over her, feeling that pull of attraction, that desire to reach out for her.

‘Lady Shrewsbury is an astute woman,’ he said, his voice low.

Miss Shepherd stiffened a little, her eyes searching his.

‘You are beautiful, Miss Shepherd.’

She let out a bark of laughter. ‘I know you jest, my lord. I do not think I am ugly, all my features are in vaguely the right proportions and in the right places, but no one has ever called me beautiful.’

‘Then everyone in the world is a fool.’ He knew this was a dangerous subject. By talking about it, he was giving himself permission to study the woman in front of him, to see the way her face lit up when she smiled, the stunning emerald green of her eyes, the perfect smattering of freckles across her nose. As his eyes roved over her he had to remind himself why nothing could ever happen between them. Not four hours earlier he had told Miss Shepherd why he could not get involved with her. He had told her things about his life that he had never told anyone before, all in the hope that she would understand why he could not do the gentlemanly thing and propose after the kiss they had shared.

Yet right now in this moment he could feel all his resolve slipping. One more kiss couldn’t hurt. Not in the privacy of the carriage. One more kiss to sustain him, and then he would return to his search for a suitable wife.

‘You are looking at me strangely,’ Miss Shepherd said, her voice catching in her throat.

‘Strangely?’

‘Like you are a wolf and you want to eat me.’

He laughed. ‘You do not know how right you are, Miss Shepherd.’

She shifted in her seat and her knees brushed against his. It was an accident, but it sparked another flare of desire in him. She must have seen it in his eyes, for she let out an involuntary little gasp.

‘We cannot,’ she said decisively.

‘Definitely not,’ he agreed.

‘It would be worse than foolish.’

‘It would be disastrous.’

They sat facing each other, eyes locked on one another as the carriage bumped through the streets. It was as though someone else had taken over his body for, despite his words, he reached out and drew the curtains on both sides, shutting out the world outside.

‘No one would know,’ he murmured.

‘We would know.’

‘We can keep a secret.’

Despite the throbbing desire that pulsed through him, Henry knew Miss Shepherd had to move first. He held all the power in their relationship, and it meant she had to be the one to decide.

She was breathing fast now, her chest rising and falling rhythmically.

‘This is a terrible idea...’ she said, and then suddenly she leaned forward.