Page 91 of The Art of Sinning

She froze. She was sore. As if... as if...

Heavenly day! She sat bolt upright as she remembered it wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a fantasy or a hope that she one day might experience the melting joys of marital bliss. She’d experienced them. Or at least some of them.

More memories surfaced, and she rememberedwhyshe’d fallen into Jeremy’s arms with no restraint.

Flying from her bed, she hastened to the window to see if his equipage still sat out front. Not that its absence would tell her much—she wouldn’t know whether that meant he’d left or if his curricle was safely stowed in the carriage house.

But looking out, she found a different carriage entirely in the drive. It wasn’t Jeremy’s or Warren’s or anyone’s that she recognized. It had a crest, but try as she might, she couldn’t make it out from here.

She rang for her maid, then began her ablutions. Within moments, the girl rushed inside as if she’d merely been awaiting the call. “Oh, milady, thank heaven you’re awake! You’ll never guess what’s going on.”

Her heart faltered. He was leaving after all. But in a different carriage? That made no sense.

“Mr. Keane’ssisterhas arrived. Did you know he had a sister?”

“Yes,” she said, with a sinking in her stomach. A sister who meant to carry him back to America. Curse it all!

Rushing to her bureau, she jerked out her corset and petticoat. “We have to hurry,” she told her maid, who was already rushing over to help her into her undergarments. “He can’t leave before I talk to him.”

“Yes, milady.”

It took far too long to get her laced up, and the whole time it was being done, she was barking orders. “I need my best silk stockings. And the simplest coiffeur you can manage. And for a gown...” She paused to think.

“The white day dress with the pink flowers?” her maid supplied helpfully.

“No, definitely not the white. His sister is supposed to be quite the energetic sort, so something more sporting. My red redingote dress with the purple sash.”

Today of all days, she mustn’t look insipid. She had to convince Jeremy to stay in England, at least long enough for her to... to...

To what?

As her maid helped her into her clothes, Yvette tried to think. She hadn’t accepted his offer last night, and honestly, she wasn’t sure he’d even meant it. He might turn out to be like plenty of other men who bedded a woman and ran. If so, then keeping him here was pointless.

And if he renewed his attentions? Offered her marriage again?

Her heart pounded at the very thought. It would mean he hadn’t just been spouting nonsense last night.

Still, she didn’t want to marry him if he was only offering out of a sense of duty. He’d done that before and it had ended badly. But neither could she bear the idea of his leaving her here to live without him.

As a hollow feeling of panic rose in her chest, she blinked back tears. He couldn’t leave. He mustn’t!

You’re in love with him, you fool.

“God strike me blind!” Yvette swore.

“Excuse me, milady?” her maid squeaked.

Heavens, she shouldn’t have said it aloud. What was wrong with her? “Forgive me. I was just trying out one of the new oaths for my dictionary.”

Her maid said nothing, and Yvette ignored her scandalized silence. Meanwhile, ten other street oaths played a refrain through Yvette’s head.

Shewasin love with him. How on earth had she done that?

By watching him struggle with his guilt over the deaths of his wife and son. By glimpsing the man beneath the mask, and realizing he was a man she could care for deeply. A man she could love.

That was why she couldn’t stand the idea of his leaving. Because deep down, she hoped that if he stayed, she could persuade him to be in love with her,too.

She winced. Of course that never worked. One fell in love or one did not. One was never persuaded into it by another person.