Expelling a breath, he told her plainly, “You muddle my head, Mrs. Lawson.”
“How so?” Somehow, she managed to sound genuinely puzzled.
James sat back in his chair, utterly stumped. “Because you wear the veneer of a harlot and yet underneath it all, you seem to be as chaste as a maiden.”
“I’ve borne a child, Mr. Dale.” A hint of annoyance clung to each word.
“You’ve also been married to a man who is both young and handsome. I am aware of all this and yet there’s something about you that doesn’t add up.”
“I thought you said you liked the kiss – that it was the best you’ve ever had.”
“Because it suggested you’d never been kissed before. That I was your first. Except that cannot possibly be. I know it’s ridiculous and yet I can’t shake the feeling that you’re not anywhere near as corrupt as you would have me believe. I just can’t imagine why you’d want to misrepresent yourself like that and—”
“I’m not misrepresenting anything,” she told him firmly. Leaning forward, she glared at him from across the table. Her eyes shone like shards of broken ice caught in the sun. Lowering her voice, she said, “If you like, I can show you. Shall we go back upstairs?”
Every last vestige of honorability crumbled in the face of what she offered. Here was his chance to have her. She was propositioning him and in spite of his conflicting thoughts about her, he did not have the will to resist. Not when he knew he’d always regret turning her down – would always wonder what he’d missed out on.
So he steadied himself, expelled a deep breath, and prepared to dive into a situation that would in all likelihood lead to disaster, when a familiar voice drew his attention. It was one of those moments in which he prayed he was mistaken, where reality seemed to slow to a near halt as blood rushed through his veins. He turned, hoping to find another man than the one he feared he would see.
Unfortunately, luck was not on his side.
Standing by the bedchamber window in the room of the inn where she and Michael had stopped for the night, Cynthia gazed out at the darkness beyond while trying to find her courage. They’d been on the road together for two days now and still she’d not managed to share the matter that pressed upon her with such force it seemed to squeeze the air from her lungs.
Talking wasn’t easy while tearing along the North Road on horseback. They’d had stops but all had been made with a sense of haste and urgency that made it hard for her to confide the monumentally important detail she’d thus far omitted. Their meals and evenings spent together before retiring had offered the most appropriate opportunities. But when she tried to think of how to ease into the subject she had to address, her stomach flipped over while nervous jitters made her skin shiver, and then before she knew it her chance had passed.
Time for hesitation was swiftly running out, however. No matter the risk, she had to reveal the one thing she knew might ruin her chance of marrying Michael forever. And because she loved him, she had to give him the chance he deserved to make an informed decision – she had to protect him from the unhappiness that had destroyed Henry’s love.
One thing was certain: she would not start her second marriage with a deception.
So she took a deep breath in preparation of his rejection, and turned with every intention of forcing the truth from her throat. Only to see that Michael was stretched out upon the bed, eyes closed, while his chest rose and fell with slow movements. A soft snore followed and Cynthia sighed in response before climbing onto the bed beside him and snuggling close to his side.
11
Panic had driven Wilhelmina to make the most preposterous suggestion ever. She knew she played a dangerous game where Mr. Dale was concerned, but when he’d revealed his suspicions to her she’d determined to prove him wrong. Judging from the gleam in his eyes, he had every intention of taking her up on her scandalous offer.
Her heart pounded with trepidation, though not without some degree of excitement as well. Since the moment they’d met, the pull she experienced in his presence had been steadily growing. It didn’t matter if he spoke to her in anger or showed resentment toward her. She still wanted him with a primitive sort of fierceness that scared the living daylight out of her whenever she stopped to think on the subject.
It was like a fated connection – the sort one could not escape no matter how fast one tried to run in the opposite direction. And to actually lie with him…
If their kiss had been a fiery experience their coupling would surely incinerate her.
Voices from newly arrived guests sounded from somewhere off to her left. Mr. Dale’s gaze shifted and then his expression darkened. Instinctively, Wilhelmina turned to discover the cause of his upset. And instantly froze as the blood in her veins turned to ice.
“Cloverfield.” She barely got the word out.
“You’re acquainted with him?” The lack of warmth to Mr. Dale’s voice chilled her even further.
“No. I mean once… It was a long time ago and… Different.” She shook her head. This man bore a striking resemblance to another she’d once known, yet it couldn’t be him. He was much too young, so this must surely be his son.
“It doesn’t sound as though you wish to cross paths with him any more than I do. So let’s go. Before he or his friends see us.”
Somehow, Wilhelmina managed to stand. Her head felt as though it was upside down, her legs too weak to carry her weight. Memories she’d long since buried rose to the surface and flooded her mind. She gripped the back of her chair even as her hand shook.
“Mrs. Lawson?”
She pressed her eyes shut, willing away the unpleasantness as it pressed in upon her with suffocating force. An arm swept around her, steadying her against a solid frame.
“It’s all right,” Mr. Dale murmured next to her ear. “Just lean on me.”
She managed a nod and carefully opened her eyes, then took a step forward. Somehow, little by little, they moved toward the dining room exit. But before they managed to reach it, Cloverfield stepped into their path.
“Well, I’ll be,” the duke said with an arrogant snort. “If it isn’t the infamous divorcée I’ve been hoping to meet. And you’re with Mr. Dale, I see. How deliciously unexpected yet wonderfully useful since he can now see to the introductions.”
Wilhelmina felt Mr. Dale’s already tight muscles strain even further. “Mrs. Lawson. Allow me to present the Duke of Cloverfield. Your Grace, this is Mrs. Lawson.”
Gleaming green eyes bore into hers. A smirk formed upon the duke’s lips as he bowed. “A pleasure. I assure you.”
“Likewise,” she replied even though it was nothing of the sort. Handsome as sin, Cloverfield had to be ten years younger than she at least. But this was not the reason why he failed to make her pulse race. Rather, it had everything to do with the fact that the man reminded her of a venomous snake. Stiff and with a very distinct urge to flee, she held on tightly to Mr. Dale’s arm.
“If you’ll forgive me for prying,” the duke went on in a blasé tone while dropping his gaze to the spot where Wilhelmina’s hand latched onto Mr. Dale. “What brings the two of you to these parts together?”