Disappointment crashed through him but he reminded himself of his plan. Advance, retreat, advance, retreat. He could not push her too quickly. For now, the flash of desire he’d seen on her face a moment ago was enough.
Maddie had wanted to kiss him.
When he was sure his voice was steady, he said, “I told you not to smoke too fast.”
“So you did.” She shifted on her feet and gave a short, strangled sort of laugh. “I must have been quite topsy-turvy for a second because it seemed . . .”
“What?”
“It seemed as if . . .” Trailing off, she looked out into the darkness rather than at him. “This may sound silly, but were you about to kiss me?”
The question hung between them, with Harrison’s expression registering his shock. Truth be told, Maddie couldn’t believe she’d asked it. She wanted to blame the cigar, but Harrison’s presence had set her off-kilter.
Something seemed different between them, her awareness of him heightened. The things she noticed about him had changed, such as the way the dressing gown molded to his lanky frame, and how his long bare feet were now so elegant and rugged. Her old friend was appealing and handsome . . . and her body was having a definite reaction to him.
Then he’d caressed her face. Like a lover. He’d stared at her so intently, wickedly, and her mouth had gone dry. Had he wanted to kiss her?
Worse, had she wanted him to?
You are being ridiculous. This is Harrison. He doesn’t think of you in that manner.
Besides, she had mapped out her life already. Distractions were hardly beneficial toward achieving her goals. This party was about finding a bride for her old friend before she conquered Nationals and moved to England as a duchess.
Dream big, my girl, her father had always said. After all, he’d never let anything stop him from getting what he wanted.
And neither would she.
“Back to your leaving three years ago,” she said, purposely changing the conversation away from kissing.
“This again?” Harrison rolled his eyes. “I never meant to upset you. Leaving was more . . . impulsive self-preservation. Starting over fresh somewhere else.”
“You didn’t drop Kit or Preston or Forrest in your fresh start. Only me.”
“They’re men, Maddie. It is different.”
“That’s ridiculous—and offensive. Plus, I’ve known you longer.”
He leaned against the balustrade, tall and broad in the semidarkness. “Still, I am right.”
“You couldn’t even write?”
“My life in Paris did not lend itself to proper correspondence for a lady.”
“Meaning I would have been scandalized.”
“Yes.”
A disbelieving noise erupted from her throat. It was like he’d forgotten everything about her. “You never worried about that before. Remember those letters you wrote while at college?” His letters used to have her howling with laughter. Stories about his classes and clubs, but mostly about his friends. He hadn’t tempered them for her inexperienced ears, either.
“Paris was different.”
“Why?”
“Because I was wilder there. Practically a reprobate. I didn’t want you to know that person.”
“I wouldn’t have judged you.”
The expression on his face said he believed otherwise. “I had to grow up, Maddie. Being here was . . . strangling me. I found myself in Paris.”
“Oh.” A lump formed in the back of her throat, an ache of disappointment brought on by his illuminating perspective. So New York and Maddie’s friendship had strangled him, while Paris and mistresses had liberated him. How had she failed so miserably at being his friend? “I understand.”
“No, you don’t. You are just saying that while secretly blaming yourself.”
She fought a smile and studied her feet. How did he know her so well after all this time?
“Because you still wear your emotions on your face,” he answered, even though she hadn’t voiced the question.
This time she did smile. “It’s how you always knew when I was lying.”
He pointed at her with his cigar. “Precisely. So don’t try to get away with it now. Tell me why you blame yourself for my leaving.”
“I must have been a terrible friend to you, if you couldn’t be yourself here. Then you were gone and never wrote, like it was easy to forget about me.”
“Maddie,” he said, his voice quiet and solemn. “I never forgot about you. Never.”
The earnest declaration rolled over her like a warm ocean wave, weakening her limbs. Anchoring herself with the railing, she tried to lighten the mood and squash these improper reactions. “That’s a relief, because you still owe me five dollars from our bet when I was thirteen—”
“You would bring up that outrageous lie again.” He gave a disbelieving chuckle. “You cheated because you couldn’t stand to lose.”
“I would never,” she said haughtily, much like a spinster aunt. “You lost the bicycle race, Harrison.”
“Because someone partially deflated my tires beforehand. I wonder who would have done such a thing . . . ?”
“As if I would stoop so low.”
“Nearly a decade later and you still cannot admit the truth.” He shook his head slowly, smirking as if disappointed in her. “You’ll take that one to your grave, I suppose.”
She would, but where was the fun in coming clean now?
“This is nice,” she said, bumping his shoulder with hers. “Reminiscing and talking with you. I’ve missed you.”
The skin around his eyes crinkled, little lines of amusement that transformed his face. Lord, he was a good-looking man. “We always had fun together.”
“Yes,” she said, “we certainly did.”
“Do you love him? Your duke, I mean.”
“He isn’t my duke.” Not yet, anyway.
“Fine, your rumored-to-be fiancé. Is there a romantic attachment between you?”
“We get along. Fond of the same pursuits, that sort of thing.”
“He’s a tennis player?”
“A bit, but the duke generally loves sports and the outdoors.”
“Do you at least get to call him by his Christian name, or does he insist on formality in private, as well?”
Odd now that she considered it, but she actually didn’t know Lockwood’s Christian name. She called him either Lockwood or duke, as everyone did. “The title deserves respect.”
“Does becoming a duchess mean that much to you?”
Oh, the stupidity of men sometimes. “Harrison, every girl dreams of being a duchess. Well, a princess, but princes are in short supply.”
“So a duke will have to do?”
“Something like that.”
They both knew how it worked with society marriages. A young woman had to make the very best match possible when it came time to marry. Maddie was fortunate in that her parents had allowed her to have a say in her husband. Most society parents arranged the marriage without a daughter’s input.
And honestly, how could one do better than a duke?
“Allow me to guess?” Harrison reached over the balustrade to tap ash onto the grounds below. “A crumbling estate or two, needs the American dollars to shore them up.”