She moaned and her hands brushed his chest as she lifted them, presumably, to cover her face. The sound, again, was all too reminiscent of the ones she’d made last night. More specifically, the noise she’d made when he’d covered her breast with his mouth.
Sebastian placed his hands on her upper arms but resisted the urge to pull her against him. He leaned forward and inhaled, speaking by her ear. “I have a question for you.”
“Ask,” she responded in a clipped voice. “I’m in no position to withhold an answer.”
That she didn’t trust him bothered him. “Did I not just promise that I would keep your secret? I don’t remember putting any stipulations on it.”
“Of course, I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t know you at all, and I’ve—“ A small cry escaped her. “I did not mean to question your honor.”
He set his hand on her shoulder and then edged it toward her neck until his thumb grazed her skin.
“Do stop.” She jerked her head but within the confines of the closet had no real escape.
“Your pulse is racing.” His voice, more gravelly than usual, nearly caught on his comment.
“All of this is quite unsettling.” She made an attempt to sound proper and dignified. A lady indeed.
“It is,” Sebastian agreed. “I’ve been feeling rather… unsettled, myself. You should not have run away from me last night.”
At this, she jerked backward. “I’ve been nothing but honest and I do not appreciate your mockery.”
“You think I am not serious?” He reached out but she eluded him this time.
“You are a flirt and a tease, and you’d do well to direct your energies toward one of the younger ladies, someone closer to you in age.”
This comment surprised him. “You think me too young?”
“That and you are my intended’s nephew.”
Sebastian was more than a little stunned. “You aren’t really going to marry him?” It would be a damned shame if she did. She was far too… vibrant for a man such as his uncle. George would never take the time to discover all of the intricacies of such a woman.
She paused only a moment. “I intend to do so, yes.” Not a resounding declaration though. When it was all over, Sebastian wouldn’t mind stepping in so they could finish what they’d started the night before.
“We’ll see about that.” He laughed.
“I’m glad you find all of this so amusing.” She moved closer to the door as though preparing herself for escape. “And I appreciate your promise to... forget that last night ever happened. It was simply… a colossal mistake on my part.”
He’d made no such promise. Only that he would not tell anyone about it. Forget it happened? Not something he was prepared to do. “As I said before, I was not an unwilling participant,” he reminded her.
“Well… I supposed there is some… consolation in that.”
Sebastian burst out laughing until her small, warm hand covered his mouth.
“Won’t you please be quiet? Anyone could hear you and then…”
But he was not laughing now. Damn but he enjoyed her touch. Before she could remove her hand, he parted his lips and touched the tip of his tongue to her skin.
She inhaled sharply and removed it.
“You’re hopeless.” She huffed. “Wait here a few moments. I’ll go out first. Dear God,” she muttered, “if anyone were to see the two of us emerge from a closet together…”
Sebastian caught at her wrist. “I won’t tell anyone, My Lady,” he growled. “But this isn’t finished. I won’t be forgetting last night for a very long time.”
“You are wrong. It is over. And best you set to forgetting it, just as I have.” She jerked her wrist away from him. “Enough.”
The sounds of rustling skirts only just preceded the door flying open as his uncle’s betrothed swooshed away from him yet again.
Ah, no. This, whatever this was, had only just begun.
6
Wading Into the Deep
Over half of the house party guests presented themselves outside the grand entrance first thing in the morning in order to make the short hike and then the mildly harrowing climb down the cliffs to the beach.
Margaret had almost decided to forgo the more vigorous exercise in order to keep George appeased but in the end, was unwilling to deny herself something that gave her great enjoyment simply to please his sensibilities. Especially if she intended to marry him, it was best to set out in the manner she intended to proceed indefinitely. And although Penelope had had a few barouches brought around to convey some of the guests to the actual path, Margaret preferred to travel the distance on foot, as she normally would.
“I hope this wind dies down.” Abigail Cross, the young Duchess of Monfort, was retying her bonnet as they awaited Penelope, who was corralling the guests who considered punctuality to be an unrefined trait. “You might lose your hat, Margaret, if that is the case.”
Margaret reached up to push down on the straw hat she’d decided upon. Lord Rockingham had not spoken to her at dinner the night before or later in the withdrawing room. In fact, he’d managed to avoid her very successfully. Of course, she’d been of a mind to avoid him as well. But she would have had to be blind to miss that most of the young and unmarried women had demanded his attention most persistently and that he had done nothing to discourage any of them.
It was good that he’d not sought her out.
George, who had been sitting beside her, commented on Lord Rockingham’s popularity. “My nephew has the benefit of looks, charm, a lofty title, and an even loftier one in the future. Ah, to be young again.”
“You are not all that old, George,” Margaret had reassured him.
He’d laughed. “Nor are we as young.”
Lying in bed later, she’d resented the comment.
And so that morning, rather than wear one of her more conservatively colored gowns, she’d selected a buttery-colored muslin with chartreuse trim and embroidered flowers. And she’d had Esther return the bonnet to her wardrobe in favor of a lovely straw hat adorned with silk daisies and butterflies.
Margaret grasped the top of her head, unwilling to part with the whimsical accessory as a gust of wind whipped all of the ladies’ dresses against them. She would be most disappointed in herself if she lost it merely because her intended had made an innocent comment that she’d taken offense to.
“I should have known better, Abigail.” Margaret smiled at the petite duchess beside her. “It’s likely to be worse once we reach the cliffs.” She was contemplating running back inside just as George emerged from the house, and then Penelope and Hugh behind him.
Penelope, wearing a more practical hat that tied beneath her chin, but looking lovely in a mint gown with three-quarter-length puffed sleeves, garnered everyone’s attention as she waved from the top of the steps. “It’s a gorgeous day! Shall we be on our way then?” she shouted in a most un-viscountess-like manner.
Several of the younger people cheered and a few took off running along the road leading to the cliffs.