Page 17 of A Gentleman’s Offer

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There was no reason to linger once Jenny had told them what little she knew, and Meg and Sir Dominic made their way swiftly out of the house, ignoring the surprised looks they received from the doorkeeper. Obviously he’d expected them to stay much longer, given what he believed they’d come for. Dominic found himself in an uncomfortable state of arousal that he could only hope was not obvious to others as he blessed the relative darkness of the street. Meg’s cheeks had flooded with fiery colour at the girl’s final words, and she raised no objection when he suggested they find Angela and take their leave of her, so that she would be reassured they were safe. Clearly, Miss Margaret had no desire at all to be questioned over the outrageous things Jenny had said to her as they left, and no wonder. The atmosphere between them had grown heavy with a particular type of tension and he was positive they both felt it with equal force.

Fishwick fell in beside them, appearing silently out of the shadows as they headed off into the piazza, but soon left them after a brief exchange of words – a farewell to Angela and her companions – which Dominic afterwards could not have recalled at gunpoint.

A few minutes later, Dominic and Meg were quite alone in a hackney carriage, making their way back towards Grosvenor Square. He’d procured the vehicle on Bow Street with efficiency and speed and told the driver to set them down on Davies Street, a little way short of their destination, considering the convenience worth the risk. If he also had a deep desire to be private with her in a small, dark, intimate space, he pushed away the treacherous thought. He needed to get her home safely, and he would.

‘If Jenny was right,’ she ventured, plainly made uncomfortable by the silence that was thickening between them, ‘it seems we may have had the answer in our hands, days ago, without knowing it. I thought she was telling the truth, as far as she knew it, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, I did,’ he said gruffly, shifting in his seat and trying to focus, which was difficult when she was so close that their bodies were almost touching. Were touching, when the wheels jolted over a pothole and her thigh brushed his. Hell and damnation. ‘And I can’t help you with this part of it. I think you’re going to have to call on Lady Primrose on your own, and press her more strongly than we were able to at the ball. A morning call between good friends – what could be more natural?’

‘And do you think I should reveal to her who I am?’ Her voice was soft, troubled, and good God, he wanted to take her in his arms and drive all those worries from her mind, and his. Embracing her would be crazy, and it would solve precisely nothing, but how badly he wanted it. He didn’t want to talk .

‘If Jenny has the right of it,’ he said with a concentration he could only marvel at, ‘she knows already, which must mean she also knows that your sister is gone, even if she doesn’t know where she is right now. And even if she is ignorant of whatever the bloody hell is going on, there can be little harm done – she’s a close friend of your sister’s, everyone keeps telling us, and therefore is hardly likely to spread the news of her disappearance far and wide.’ He paused and then said, almost despite himself, ‘But Meg, at this point it scarcely matters.’

‘What do you mean?’ It seemed she would force him to say it in plain words.

‘I mean that if we don’t find your sister very soon, it’ll all have to come out in any case. You know that the damn wedding is barely two weeks away.’

‘If Lady Primrose indeed knows where Maria is, it may all be set right,’ she said optimistically.

He gritted his teeth. ‘How? How may everything be set right?’

She didn’t answer him. She didn’t know.

He went on, his tone deep and intense, ‘I feel as though I’ve said this to you before, but it bears repeating – you cannot possibly think that your sister has any intention of marrying me, or that it would be a good idea if she did. Nor can you believe I have the faintest desire to marry her. I won’t say she’s the last woman on earth I’d wish to marry, but – no, actually, she is. The very last.’ He felt the truth of it bone-deep as he said it.

She was still silent. His heart was racing and his blood pounding in his ears. The carriage felt very small suddenly, and yet not small enough. She was close, but he needed her closer. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me why?’ he said. His voice was ragged, hoarse, and very low. He scarcely knew what he was saying, apart from the fact that it was dangerous and forbidden, wrong and so perfectly right, and he could not stop it for the life of him.

‘Is it because you almost kissed me in the park?’ There. She’d said it.

‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s because I’m going to kiss you now. Shall you like that, Meg Nightingale?’

‘No,’ she responded, astonishing him, ‘and you shan’t do it, because I’m going to kiss you first.’