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“Well, as you pointed out, someone broke into my aunt’s house, and I really do need to find that letter.” He offered out both hands. “At the very least, I need your lock-picking skills.”
Eyeing him for several moments and finding not a hint of teasing in his gaze, she gingerly put her hands in his. Tingles raced down her arms and she found herself unable to look away from eyes that suddenly darkened.
She should pull away. Remove her hands from his. Flee from the room for good measure.
He took a step closer to the bed, leaning down slightly.
Good Lord, what was about to happen?
“Well, well, well. What is going on here?”
She snapped her head around to find Mary and her Aunt Sarah – Aunt Sarah? – in the doorway of the bedroom. The bedroom where she was lying on the bed, holding a certain gentleman’s hands.
All the blood rushed from her face down to her toes, leaving her feeling as though she had jumped into a lake in the middle of winter.
She swung a helpless look Roman’s way. She could not fault Mary's question. What exactly was going on here?
∞∞∞
He had two choices.
Run over to his aunt and give her a solid embrace for interrupting whatever the hell this had been, or back away slowly and try to pretend nothing had happened.
Roman hadnotnearly kissed Clementine Musgrave. Honestly. Truthfully. Not a chance at all.
The trouble was, as much as his aunt had saved him from nearly making a huge mistake, he might well have made another. The lady accompanying his aunt was surely Mrs. Sarah Knighton—the sister of the Duke of Daventry and Clementine’s aunt. He would recognize that gleam in the eye anywhere.
Aunt Mary might be forgiving of their compromising situation—again—but her aunt would surely not feel the same.
He shot a pleading look at Clementine.Get off the damned bed. She remained frozen, fingers bunched into the fabric of the comforter. If it weren’t for the look of sheer horror on her face, he’d be able to understand why he’d wanted to swoop in and press a kiss to those temptingly soft lips. Her hair had loosened, splaying about the pillow and her skirts settled around her body, reminding him of those secret curves. She appeared like a woman waiting to be loved.
And God help him, he’d wanted to love her.
It did not help that he’d found admirable traits in her, either. They were well-hidden underneath all that stubbornness and unconventionality but lock-picking aside, she was a determined and resourceful young woman.
Unfortunately, just those traits alone were not enough to make her his perfect wife. She had to be as invested as he in ensuring the continuation of his family’s good reputation. It was Clementine’s lack of care for the rules that had put them in this situation in the first place. For the second time.
Roman had to admit to not being entirely powerless either. He could have told her no, could have walked out when he realized they would be alone. From now on, he needed to be firmer with her. With himself.
That was, unless her aunt demanded he make right on this situation. He would not blame the woman. How must it look with Clementine laid out on the bed and he with his jacket removed? Not good at all, to be certain. If Mrs. Knighton thought he had compromised her niece, he would have to do the right thing.
The look of horror on Clementine’s face told him she’d come to the same realization. Neither of them wanted to be wed in a hasty match made to cover up scandal, though he would not deny he felt a slight pang in his chest when he saw her wide eyes and the way her skin paled. He was a marquis, damn it. A fairly handsome one at that. He did not drink too much or womanize or end up in the scandal sheets. There were many women who would be happy to be in such a position.
So why did he care whether Clementine wanted to be forced into a hasty marriage with him? The woman really did have him losing his mind.
“Aunt Sarah!” Clementine shot suddenly into action, leaping from the bed and rushing over so fast Roman saw nothing more than a blur and swore he felt the rush of air ruffle his cravat.
“Whatever are you doing in Bath? You so rarely visit!” Clementine flung her arms about the woman who staggered under the impact but grinned broadly and returned the embrace.
The two aunts were a curious looking couple. Aunt Mary wore bright red silk from the top of her head to her toes, cut in a slightly masculine manner with a strong lapel lined with black piping. Clementine’s aunt wore a turban of gray silk that defied gravity and her skirts reminded him of something she might have worn in her youth, when women’s dresses were less slimline. As flamboyant as each other in their own ways, he did not much fancy being up against them both.
He inhaled deeply, waited for Clementine to extract herself from her aunt’s embrace, and readied himself like a man waiting at the gallows. These two women had the power to dictate the futures for them both.
“We were just investigating,” Clementine explained breathlessly. “I’m assuming you know all about this intruder?” She eyed her aunt and Roman didn’t miss the plea there. He could almost imagine the words running through her mind.Please, please, please do not marry me off to that awful man.
Well, he had just as little desire to be wed to a Musgrave.
Mrs. Knighton glanced around her niece at Roman, gave him a brief once-over, then focused her attention back on Clementine. He almost missed the slight quirk of her lips. Did she find this situation amusing?
