Page 70

Freddie’s lips were on hers before she could finish her thought, and she leaned into his hand.

But then he pulled back and winked at her. It was not as long as she’d have liked, but considering the whole room was watching them, she was satisfied. “Thank you for humoring them, my dear.” He released her hand and stood. “I’ll take my turn, if that’s acceptable, Lady Dalmeer.” He moved quickly toward the front, leaving Pippy to stare after him, her lips still warm from his kiss.

She should have paid his charade more heed, she knew. But the faint smell of his shaving soap hung around her. And the heat on her lips had faded into a faint tingle. How was one to concentrate on charades under such conditions?

She swallowed, but forced her eyes to stay open. The last thing she wished was for the whole of the party to discover what she already knew.

“If you’ll say your charade, we can adjourn to the library.” Freddie’s whisper drew her from her thoughts. His smile was kind, but she couldn’t be certain it was genuine. Was he simply inviting her to be polite? The last thing she wanted was his pity.

She smiled, hoping she didn’t look at him as if she were a lovesick schoolgirl. “Why don’t you go? I’ll stay here and divert attention away from your absence.”

He frowned. “I thought you wished to spend the evening there?”

She waved away his question. “I should stay else Lady Dalmeer will realize you’ve left.”

He stared at her for a moment. “Are you certain? You seemed rather eager for it earlier.”

She nodded, even though she was anything but certain. “Yes, yes.” The second “yes” was to make him believe the first one. It was a well-known fact that one did not use two yeses without meaning them. “Go on ahead.” Then she looked back at him. “I assume you do not wish to play bullet pudding?”

He gave her a strangled look.

She feigned a laugh. “It’s just as I thought. Go enjoy the library.”

Once he was gone, Pippy quietly slipped out the doors and walked to her room. “It will serve the same purpose as the library,” she told herself. “Indeed, it will be quieter, even.”

Twenty-One

Freddie had hoped that Pippy would change her mind and join them in the library after charades the previous evening. But that had not happened. Had she misinterpreted Stan’s invitation? It had come across as more of an order, but that was just Stan’s way. Had she thought they spoke or did things inappropriate in a lady’s presence? He pushed out his lips. After telling her they’d spoken of Stan kissing ladies indiscriminately, perhaps he could see her side. But was there another reason?

When he retired to their chambers—bullet pudding had still been in full swing—he was surprised to find her in their sitting room, asleep on the couch with a book in her lap. If she’d not stayed for the games, why had she not come to the library?

The only benefit he’d seen in the situation was that he’d carried her into the bedroom. But she’d slept right through it, blast it all! There’d been no resuming their charades kiss.

Thunder and turf! Nearly twenty-four hours later, he still could not shake the memory of that kiss. It had been quick—he was not one to make a public spectacle of himself and especially not of Pippy—but it had been delightful. Lud, every time he kissed her, his longing for her only worsened.

She hadn’t embraced him. She hadn’t flung her arms around him. But she had leaned into his hand. Or he thought she had. But he could very possibly have imagined that. The more he thought on it, the more likely he thought it was.

He ran a hand through his hair. Why could he not understand her? She seemed happy—enough. Although he supposed that was natural, considering what he’d saved her from. But was that enough? Did he only want a wife who was indebted to him?

He frowned. No…he didn’t. But what was he to do? He couldn’t make her love him. He couldn’t make her feel things she didn’t feel, just because he felt them.

He paused.

Did he feel them? Did he love her? The tightening of his chest every time he thought on it made him believe he might. More and more he thought Fin’s advice—not to concern himself over it—might be as terrible as the advice he’d given Miles. Granted, the current advice hadn’t caused ruined dresses or forced Pippy to cut off all her hair. But it didn’t follow that it was good advice by any standard.

The longer he was with Pippy, the more he wanted to tell her how he felt. He just needed to be certain of it himself. Perhaps if he started calling her “my love” again, it would slowly start the conversation.

The door of their bedchambers opened, and Pippy stepped out in a dark red gown.

Freddie’s heart rate picked up and his palms felt clammy. He cleared his throat. “You look positively radiant, my…dear.” He chided himself for his cowardice.

She ran her hands down her skirt. “Do you really think so?”

He nodded. “None shall compare to you. Of that I’m certain.”

He held out his hand, but then lifted his arm instead. No need for her to learn of the state of his palms. “Come, I’ve heard dinner tonight is to be an informal affair.”

She looked over at him. “How so?”