Page 73 of Never Besmirch a Wallflower: Dukes and Wallflowers

The overwhelming desire to smash his forehead into his palm crashed through his body. Of course, Miss Webb would tell her sister, and they, as guests of Miss Rowe’s, couldn’t keep that information secret from her.

“How many people know?” His voice cracked.

“Aside from six dukes?” she asked, her eyebrows shooting up.

She was teasing.

Her face softened. “Only the three of us… Miss Webb, her sister, and I.”

“Two secrets to none seems quite an unbalanced relationship between us.” He shortened the right rein, directing the horse around the second corner. “I can only think of one way to correct that inequity.”

“You know I loathe the scent of lavender.”

“I will allow that to be one of your secrets. However, I want more than just a confession for your second.” He stopped the sleigh. “I want to remember our kiss.”

“I can’t help you with that, Your Grace.”

“You can,” he said, stepping off the runners and striding around the side of the sleigh. “Allow me to kiss you again.”

“Again?” she squeaked.

“It was a dream, was it not?” He moved closer, placing one foot inside the sleigh. “And since I cannot recall it, and you can, I’d like to remedy that situation.”

She licked her lips, her blue eyes locking on him, and nodded.

Levi leaned down, moving at a glacial pace, and pressed his mouth to hers. Fire exploded between them, and, winding his arms around her waist, he drew her against him. Desire poured through his veins, causing an uncomfortable tightening in his trousers.

This kiss was a terrible idea.

He didn’t expect her to affect him so completely, and he couldn’t convince his arms to release the grip molding her soft figure to his body. His tongue darted out, tasting the sweetness of her lips, then pressed forward, parting her mouth, and dipped into her warmth.

She moaned.

The sound undid him. He sank onto the seat, pulling her onto his lap. Her arms slid around his neck, the tentative movement encouraging him to deepen the kiss. His tongue slid along hers, craving the berry taste haunting his subconscious.

“Lennox!”

A faint sound broke through the passionate haze. The noise came again, and Levi, reluctantly, drew back from Miss Rowe and set her beside him, leaving them both panting as he glanced around for the origin of the distraction.

Racing toward them, snow flying from their sleigh’s runners, came Mansfield and Warwick, both of their faces whiter than the ice scattering in their wake.

Allowing Miss Rowe time to make herself presentable, Levi blocked her from view with his body, collected the blanket, shook it out, and draped the wool coverlet over her lap. Then he reclaimed his position on the runners and lifted the whip just as Mansfield’s sleigh reached them, stopping on the opposite side of the street.

Both men were pale and trembling.

Concern flowed through Levi. “I thought you didn’t intend to participate in this afternoon’s activity.”

Wrapping the reins around the sled’s metal post with shaking fingers, Mansfield stepped from the runners, helped Warwick climb from the seat, and then turned toward Levi.

“I convinced Warwick to travel to your home to collect his things.”

“Abandoning me for Roxburghe?” Levi’s eyes flicked to Warwick, who had the decency to appear shamed, then slid across the sleigh. “I don’t see your trunk.”

Warwick groaned, leaning against the sled and rubbing his leg. “We forsook it in the foyer.”

“Why?” Levi frowned.

“Mr. Philbert chased us from your house.”