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Her eyes narrowed as she read the address on the parchment. “Will we be alone when playing?”
Out of habit, he continued with his lie about his fake mistress. “The residence is currently vacant and has been for a few months.”
“Very well. I shall see you there.” Minerva crumpled the parchment and threw it into the fire.
He wasn’t ready for her to leave. When she turned back to face him, he caved in to his desires, pulled her close, and crushed his lips to hers to seal their deal.
With her arms linked around his neck, her fingertips brushed the sensitive skin just above the material of his cravat. Minerva returned his kisses.
She was kissing him back.
This wasn’t her first kiss.
A ball of rage and jealousy rolled through him. Who in the devil’s name had dared to touch her so intimately?
He pulled back as his mind raced. “I’ll escort you home.”
Confusion and then anger flared in her eyes. “There’s no need. I don’t need your help.”
“Ah, but I need yours.” He presented his arm for her, but the minx ignored him and marched out of his chambers without a backward glance.
Rooted to the spot, he let her go.
There was something oddly familiar about the way her tongue had caressed his. Oh, he had fantasized and dreamt about kissing Minerva numerous times, but he’d never dared to kiss his best friend’s sister…until tonight. His mind was playing tricks on him.
He flopped on the bed and closed his eyes. He needed a respite before having to deal with the Head of the Foreign Office.
Chapter Four
Trapped in herprivate study for two full days and two extremely long evenings with her sister Isadora and Charlotte nattering on and on was all Minerva could tolerate. She was close to losing her composure and behaving in a manner that would prove to one and all that she was not in fact an Ice Queen. Except she couldn’t bear the thought of causing her sister and her soon-to-be sister-in-law’s smiles to disappear. A few more days and the plans for her sister’s engagement party would be well in hand.
Minerva pressed her fingers to her temples and tuned out the voices about her. It had taken her twice as long as she expected to organize what should have been a simple dinner party. However, when your sister was to marry a duke, who was acquainted with more than half theton, compiling the guestlist was a feat in itself. Normally such tasks would not have proven a challenge, but with Charlotte and Isadora insisting on conducting a discussion and evaluation of each gentleman’s character and qualities before adding them to the list, the process was long and arduous. It didn’t help that Minerva mentally compared each one of the men to Anthony.
Minerva dropped her hands to her lap and stared at the large pile of invitations that needed to be stuffed into envelopes. Two weeks until her sister married a duke, an agent for the Foreign Office. Two weeks until she would be free of her immediate family obligations. With Gregory busy at university and Paul completing his senior year at Eton, there was nothing stopping her from pursuing her dreams. Yes, in two weeks she could finally embark upon an adventure of her own.
In better spirits, she began to hum as she picked up an envelope and mindlessly jammed an invitation inside.
She was on her third invite when Anthony’s image appeared as she blinked. Blast the man. Her plans would have to wait. Wait until…until she defeated the man who had destroyed her self-preserving promises of never loving him again with the brush of his lips.
Gah! She had best formulate a sound plan for sneaking out then journeying across Town in quick succession. She needed to complete their chess game in no more than fourteen days or she would jeopardize her plans for the Season.
A knot formed in her stomach. The idea of venturing across Town to a residence that no doubt had previously housed Anthony’s mistress had her heart breaking. She didn’t want to see, let alone occupy, a room where Anthony had made love to another.
Her hand shook as she reached for another invitation. She released a sigh.Get a hold of yourself.
She glanced over at Isadora, who was thankfully preoccupied, listening intently to yet another one of Charlotte’s childhood stories. Minerva supposed it was only natural Charlotte adored her much older brother, since they were parentless. The way the girl went on about her older brother, Isadora’s husband-to-be, you would think the Duke of Aces was a saint and not the devilish soul who took risks for the sake of king and country.
Risks.
She too was guilty of taking risks that most would claim were too great. After all, there was no greater risk than the one she was taking by playing Anthony. After mulling over the chess match she had played with him years ago, she had a sinking feeling that the man might have tricked her. Tricked her into believing she had won fair and square, when, in fact, Anthony had forfeited the game on purpose. What was riskier—being all alone with Drake and wanting his lips on her again, or the growing self-doubt that she might not be able to defeat the man as easily as she had claimed?
The edge of an invitation sliced the tip of her finger, and she reached for another. “Ouch.” Before blood could ruin the parchment, Minerva stuck her finger in her mouth.
“Whose invitation dared to injure you, sister?” Isadora’s grin was hard to ignore. Avondale, of all the gentlemen in the world, made her sister annoyingly happy.
Minerva peered at Avondale’s bold script. Her future brother-in-law, Tom—the poor man would have to learn not to wager with Isadora, or he’d find himself in charge of the dinner menu and any other task Isadora deplored.
Minerva smiled as she read the invitee’s name and replied, “It was the honorable Viscount Northwell.” Northwell? The man was notorious for his candid remarks and held the record for being tossed from various assemblies and balls. Isadora must have added him to list without discussion.
