Page 95 of Every Time We Kiss


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“Seems to me,” Somerton commented from the doorway, “that she restored her own honor by un-manning him.”

“Exactly,” Jennette agreed.

Somerton tugged on Selby’s arm. “Let this go. I really don’t want to be your second twice in one year. I shall handle Huntley.”

“Very well,” Selby said. “Take care of him.”

Somerton leveled Huntley a wild smile. “I haven’t killed a man in such a long time,” he drawled.

“No,” Jennette said, looking horrified by his words.

“No,” Selby agreed.

“And what do you say, Blackburn?” Somerton asked softly.

“He has no say in this matter,” Selby answered, glaring at Matthew.

“Kill him, Somerton,” Matthew replied, staring at Selby’s icy blue eyes. “Just make certain it is a long, slow, and excruciatingly painful death.”

“Matthew!” Jennette exclaimed. “No one is going to die over what happened here.”

“Oh, very well,” Somerton said with a sigh. He dragged Huntley toward the door, stopping in front of Jennette. “Anything you might want to say, you stupid fool?”

“I apologize from the bottom of my heart,” Huntley mumbled to Jennette.

“Accepted,” she said.

“Jennette, let’s go,” Selby said, walking to the door.

“No. I need to speak with Lord Blackburn about an important matter.”

Selby shook his head. “Be quick.”

“Alone, Ban.”

“Never.”

Somerton pulled Selby. “Leave them be, Selby. She’s made her choice whether you like it or not.”

Selby glared back at Matthew, then at Jennette. Before he could say another word, Somerton dragged him and Huntley out of the room. The door slammed behind them.

Matthew sat in the chair, staring into the dancing flames of the fire. He heard her approach but had no idea what to say to her. Everything that had happened tonight was his fault. He should have been clearer with Vanessa. Telling her he didn’t love her would have hurt her, but she was strong and would have recovered. Instead, he had given her false impressions that he might come back to her when he knew that would never happen.

“Why are you so quiet?” she whispered.

“This was all my fault, Jennette.”

She sat on the arm of his leather chair and played with his hair. “Why do you think that?”

“God, I want some brandy.” He rose to his feet, more to get away from her than to find the brandy. He’d never felt so guilty in all his life. “Would you like some?”

“Yes, but what I really want is for you to sit down and talk to me.”

“Brandy first.” He poured two snifters and brought the drinks back to their seat. Then he moved to the sofa.

Instead of staying in her seat, she moved closer to him. “What are you about tonight, Matthew?”

He had known Jennette long enough to be certain she wouldn’t cease her questions until he answered them. “This is all my fault, Jennette.”

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