Page 12 of Sir Hugo Seeks a Wife (Cinderellas of Mayfair #1)

Her grip on Hugo’s hand firmed. “Thank you.”

He looked surprised. “Why?”

“Nobody other than Sylvie has been angry on my behalf.”

“What about your family?”

Athene’s exhalation was dismissive. “I’m dead to them. My father, my brother, aunts, uncles, none of them has any interest in taking in a fallen woman. I told you my decision to send you away is based on more than my seducer turning out to be a cad of the first order.”

“So you don’t trust men?”

“Of course not.”

“And you don’t trust yourself.”

“How can I?”

“Despite a life of nun-like virtue since coming back to London?”

Self-derision tugged at her lips. “Hardly.”

His frown returned. “You said you’ve only had one lover.”

“But I kissed you. I wanted to kiss you the moment I first saw you.”

His glower melted away, and he brought her hand to his lips. “That’s a good sign.”

The warmth across her knuckles settled in the pit of her stomach, made her poignantly aware of everything she rejected tonight.

It had taken years to control her itch for a man’s possession.

Not for any specific man, but for the heat of touch, the intimacy of a hard penis inside her.

George might have been a wastrel, but he’d known how to excite her.

To her dismay, some lingering female instinct told her that if she succumbed to Sir Hugo, his seductive skills would outshine George’s the way the sun eclipsed a bonfire.

Her answer was a rasp. “That I’m incurably wanton?”

“No, you lovely widgeon.” The delight in his smile made her treacherous heart cartwheel with joy. “It means that we’re both caught up in mutual enchantment.”

She didn’t smile back. “More poetry, Sir Hugo?”

“You think I’m insincere?”

“I think…I think you’re not looking past the present moment.”

“And you’re looking too far ahead toward troubles that may never arise.”

With a weighty sigh, she withdrew her hand from his. The effort the separation required offered warning enough that she needed to end this conversation. And this association. “I’ve become a pessimist, Sir Hugo. Life has taught me to expect the worst.”

As he registered her implacable tone, he went back to frowning. “You mean to send me away.”

Athene retreated a pace. More effort. Every cell of her body screamed that she was going in the wrong direction. Instead, she should fling herself into his arms and stay there. “Yes.”

“Will you at least think about my proposal?”

She was shaking her head before he finished his question. “I have thought, and while I’m very flattered, it will not do.”

“You believe I’m just like the cur who broke your heart?”

“No, I believe you’re a good man,” she said in a toneless voice.

He was. He’d proven that tonight. He hadn’t used his strength to force her to do his will, only to protect her.

And he must know that when he kissed her, she lost all grip on common sense.

Even this untenable proposal showed that he was a good man.

She’d had her share of unwelcome propositions.

Honorable offers of marriage? None of those.

“But misguided.”

“When you have a chance to consider—”

A decisive sweep of that capable hand cut her off. “Don’t treat me like a fool. Do me that favor, at least. You’re the woman I want to spend my life with. I’m not shallow. I’m not given to sudden whimsies. You’re the wife for me, Athene.”

Despite everything, she loved that out of all the ladies in the world, he’d chosen her. It devastated her to reject him, but she must. She couldn’t risk her fragile heart again. Even more, she couldn’t bear to disappoint this kind, determined man who took no care for his own advantage.

And she would disappoint him. He could do much better than a penniless woman of questionable virtue who’d been disowned by her family.

In the heady rush of attraction, he discounted all the marks against her.

But she was bitterly aware that once the rapture ebbed and reason kicked in, regret would rise as well.

“No, I’m not,” she said with biting sorrow. “But I appreciate the offer of marriage. That’s to your eternal credit.”

That square jaw set like iron. “I won’t harangue you.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“This isn’t over.”

“Yes, it is.”

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, rumpling the gold until her fingers itched to smooth him back into order. “And what about those kisses? Will you forget those? Do they mean nothing?”

She’d remember those kisses until the day she died. She’d remember him. But she couldn’t admit that aloud. As it was, she was too close to begging him to take her. She squared shoulders inclined to droop and adopted a purposeful air laughably far from reality.

“They must mean nothing to me.” She spread pleading hands. “Please, Sir Hugo, if you have an ounce of pity, leave me be.”

The frown was back. And something she couldn’t help but recognize as hurt. Guilt stabbed her, added its acrid flavor to the roiling stew of unpleasant emotions inside her. “Very well. If you insist. Will you stay with Madame Lebeau tonight? You can’t go back to your room alone.”

So like him to think of her safety. With everything that had happened since, she’d almost forgotten Alfred Plunkett’s clumsy attempt on her nonexistent virtue.

“Yes, I’ll stay with Sylvie.” Her hands clenched at her sides. She needed him to go. Now before her desires broke free to overpower the dictates of good sense. And her resolution to do him no harm.

He nodded. “Good.”

His eyes were bleak as she’d never imagined they could be. He’s only known you a few days. He’ll forget you soon enough. Or so she told herself, even if she didn’t believe it.

“You’re making a mistake,” he said with more of that bedamned certainty.

Athene reached behind her to grasp the back of a chair. Her legs were wobbly. All of her felt wobbly. “You won’t say that when you’ve mulled over what I’ve told you. You’ll thank your lucky stars you escaped.”

Genuine rage sparked in his eyes, turning them to glittering sapphire. “Don’t belittle what I feel.”

“You know what I am.”

“A woman who made a mistake a long time ago. That’s not the sum total of who you are.”

“In the world’s eyes, it is,” she said, just wanting this to be over.

He made a disgusted sound deep in his throat. “Then the world is an ass. I don’t bloody care what you did before you met me. I only care about what you do now.”

A caustic smile twisted her lips. “Then you’re a very rare man indeed.”

Athene waited for him to protest, cajole, perhaps even try to bully her, but he merely sent her a long look that somehow combined an equal measure of appreciation and disappointment in her. The disappointment stung, especially when she tried so hard to do the right thing.

Because of course she’d like to marry Sir Hugo Brinsmead. He was all that she admired in a man. Not to mention, he kissed like a dream. And dear heaven, the idea of living in Yorkshire rather than filthy, crowded London made her heart carol with joy.

But she couldn’t in principle say yes. Even if principle was a nasty, evil bitch.

She braced for him to kiss her. It was the last thing she wanted and everything she hankered after. In his arms, she’d felt whole for the first time since leaving her home and family.

Instead of kissing her, he picked up his hat and coat and gave her a brief bow. “Miss de Smith, I am always your servant.”

Athene didn’t trust her knees to manage a curtsy. She looked down at the floor before she realized that this was the last time she’d see him. She forced herself to meet his eyes.

“Goodbye, Sir Hugo. I wish you well.” It might be a pat phrase, but she meant it more than she could say.

Another blistering glare from rich blue eyes, then he left. After the door closed with a soft click, Athene sagged as if her bones turned to dust.