Thus far, this arrangement had been orchestrated seamlessly and with the utmost discretion. It had excited Emily to receive an invitation to such an exclusive gathering, and more so because they had also invited her future betrothed. Roger hoped the festivities would distract both his siblings from what he would be up to over the next fortnight. Considering it wasn’t like Roger to pay marked attention to any woman, they might think he was simply considering marriage. No one would suspect him of engaging in an affair with a widow, and that could work to his advantage.
After leaving his sister and brother to settle into their guest chambers, Roger made his way to the garden, hoping time alone in the cold outdoors would help him clear his head. He’d practiced his introduction to ensure he wouldn’t trip over the words and taken several deep, calming breaths.
However, upon finding the lady standing before him, Roger had gone no further than the initial introduction before feeling as if he’d collapsed into himself. His hands were numb, but he managed to make the left one work long enough to take hers so he could press a kiss to her knuckles. Beyond the scent of her leather gloves, he detected the aroma of her perfume—light and pleasant.
She stood no taller than his chest, though even beneath her pelisse he could see she was bursting with feminine curves.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she said with a soft smile, and it struck Roger that she could have an entire ballroom full of men at her beck and call with nothing more than that smile.
The lady wasn’t a stunning beauty on first glance. Her features were soft and charming, and her large, round eyes were the color of warm honey. A tendril of dark brown hair kissed her cheek and jaw in a wispy coil. It was her mouth that arrested him—narrow and plump, with a deep bow in the upper lip. When she smiled, something within him lurched toward her, like an invisible tether snared around his stomach and pulling taut.
Swallowing past his thickened tongue, Roger did his best to register the words falling from those pretty pink lips—she’d started talking. Rambling, really, but it was charming.
“I must admit to being a little nervous,” she rushed out, twisting her hands together. “I have done nothing like this before. Have you? Oh … well, of course you haven’t. Mr. Sterling informed me you are … oh, goodness. I’m so sorry.”
“Think nothing of it,” he managed, watching her pace toward the shrubbery and gently caress the petals of a pink blossom. That she was anxious brought him a modicum of relief. At least he wouldn’t be alone in his feelings
“I suppose we ought to get to know one another. Mary—erm, the dowager Lady Rodingham—told me you and your family traveled here from London just as we did. Do you reside there primarily, or do you make your home in the country?”
“My brother, sister, and I spend most of our time in London.”
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, lips twisting as if she wasn’t certain what to say next. Damned if he knew; this sort of thing was foreign to him.
“I see. My daughter and I prefer London as well.” She pinched her lips together for a moment, her cheeks flushing before she quickly changed the subject. “I just love Christmas, don’t you? I can hardly wait for tomorrow evening’s ball. Oh, and Lady Rodingham says there is to be a fox hunt on Boxing Day. Are you fond of the hunt, Mr. Thornton?”
Roger struggled with which of her questions to answer first, then realized they both garnered the same answers. “Yes.”
Her eyebrows furrowed together in consternation, making him wonder if he ought to elaborate. But he couldn’t make his lips form words when his gaze was so riveted on the intriguing curves of her lips. Kissing was something he could do well, something he had experience with. It stunned him to realize he wanted to kiss Lady Hughes. Badly. Her lips looked like ripe summer berries, and the thought of tasting them created a stirring in his groin.
The strength of his desire was disconcerting, to say the least. He had wanted other women and felt potent attraction, and had come close on one humiliating occasion to doing away with the nuisance of his virginity. But to look upon someone and know that in short order they would be naked in a bed together … it affected him in an unexpected way, making it difficult for Roger to keep his eyes from wandering as she spoke. In the periphery of his vision Roger was all-too aware of the swell of full breasts pushing at the front of her pelisse.
“You mentioned that you have siblings,” she blurted, turning to face him. The full force of those honeyed eyes struck him, pinning him to the spot. “Are you the eldest?”
“My brother is,” he replied. “He is the Viscount Thornton. My sister is the youngest.”
She gave him another smile, and Roger realized it was because he’d spoken more words just now in response to this question than the others. Typically, conversation went two ways. At least, that was how it worked when one party didn’t suffer from a debilitating impairment.
“I have no siblings,” she said, pacing away from him and then coming back, as if she had no idea what to do with herself. “I find myself incredibly jealous that you have two of them.”
The corner of Roger’s lips twitched with amusement, but he couldn’t make them part into an actual smile. “Having them is … an interesting experience.”
She raised her eyebrows and leaned in, as if expecting more. Of course, Roger had nothing to offer. What could he possibly say to her about Angus and Emily? Should he tell her his idiot of a brother was the reason they had been brought together? Or that Emily’s need of a dowry had made him desperate enough to become her paid lover?
Her face fell when he didn’t elaborate, and the tight sensation in his gut worsened. Why wasn’t he the kind of man who could charm and woo and indulge in small talk without feeling as if he might faint?
“Well then,” she said, shoulders sagging. “I suppose we ought to part ways before we are missed. I will see you at dinner this evening?”
“Of course,” he replied, offering her another stiff bow. Behind his back, his hand twitched to take hold of hers for another kiss, another whiff of that sweet perfume.
But she had turned her back on him, her footsteps light and swift. Roger let out a heavy sigh and leaned against the garden wall, squeezing his eyes shut. At the first test of his ability to do this job, he had failed abysmally.
He was going to have to gather his wits and prepare to try again this evening. Emily’s future depended on it.
Throughout what remained of the afternoon, Miranda told herself that Roger must be shy. It made sense, considering that the man had never bedded a woman and likely felt out of his depth. As the experienced party, it was up to her to coax him into unwinding so they could grow comfortable with one another. So, when the time came for dinner, she entered the drawing room to join the other guests with resolution straightening her spine. She would be charming and amiable and crack through her courtesan’s rigid veneer. Their first conversation had left much to be desired, but perhaps the presence of others at dinner would help the man find his tongue.
She was greeted at the drawing room door by Mary, who was dressed in a soft lavender evening gown. Despite the length of time since the death of Rodingham, she clung to the last vestiges of mourning as if to proclaim to the world that she was still off-limits.