Page 124

“I could offer myself as part of the horde that Villiers assures me is sniffing about you.”

A tiny tendril of hope sprang up in her heart.

“You could,” she said, nodding. “You’re wearing breeches. I’m sure that was one of my requirements.”

“And powder,” he said, “for meeting royalty. But—”

“But?” she whispered.

“I’m not offering myself.”

Her stomach twisted on a great wave of nausea and shame. “I see,” she said faintly. He was looking at her closely so she couldn’t, she couldn’t cry. She mustn’t. She didn’t.

“Surely that doesn’t surprise you,” he said, moving into the room and closing the door behind him.

“This is the ladies’ salon,” she said. Her voice cracked, which was stupid. She was swamped by a feeling of bewilderment, like a child who just lost both parents in one moment. She had believed him when he said he loved her. Her eyes blurred and she had to bite her lip hard. She turned away from him. “I think it’s time to leave,” she said, forcing the words out of her throat. “Jemma will be wondering where I am.”

He didn’t answer, so finally she turned back. Simeon was busy jamming a gilt chair between the closed door and the dressing table.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“I’m not offering for your hand,” he said, walking over and towering above her.

“There’s no need to emphasize your decision!” she snapped. “I fully understand your reluctance.”

“Do you, Isidore? Do you really?”

She lifted her chin. “Of course I understand. I gave you scant courtesy when I made those decisions about the house, for which you were justly angry.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not offering for your hand, Isidore, because I’m taking it.”

She blinked at him.

“I’m not a tame dog to follow you to London and paw at your skirts. I want you,” he said fiercely. “Because I love you, and you love me. And damn it, you’re going to be the very devil to live with. But you’re my devil, and I can’t let anyone else have you, and I can’t imagine life without you.”

Isidore took one sobbing, song-filled breath. “I thought—”

“You thought I didn’t love you enough to stay with you,” he said. “And you tested me by taking off to London and expecting me to follow.”

She lurched to her feet like an ungainly adolescent, literally throwing herself into his arms. “I love you,” she said, her voice breaking.

“I thought I couldn’t follow you because it meant I was your inferior.”

“I never thought that!” Isidore said.

“I couldn’t accept the truth,” he said. “You rule my heart, Isidore, and there’s no shame in that.”

She took his face in her hands. “I love you,” she whispered.

He kissed her so hard that her hands slipped around his neck. He kissed her so sweetly that her heart was never the same. And he kissed her so fiercely that she knew that a lion had voluntarily walked into the circle of her arms. Isidore Del’Fino, Duchess of Cosway, never forgot that last lesson.

His hands were roaming. “You can’t,” she said breathlessly, thinking of all the people on deck—and he did it anyway. “You shouldn’t,” she gasped a few minutes later—but he already was.

Her bodice was designed to cover her breasts, no matter the circumstances, but it gave way before Simeon’s determination. The breath caught in Isidore’s throat when she saw his face.