Page 10

Two days later

“D o not include me in your machinations, my ladies,” said Mr. Garner. “I’ve dealt with the staff, but I cannot engage in shenanigans.”

“But if Miles leaves, I will never be able to convince him we belong together.” Gwen was ready to pull her hair out.

The viscount had not been to supper in two nights and rose at dawn to avoid the women at breakfast. “He told me in passing that he would leave for his estate at the end of the week. Just a minor excuse is all we need to keep him here.”

“I cannot lie to Lord Wickton,” the butler repeated. “However, I might mention that his lordship will be eating an early supper today at five.”

“And our usual time is seven,” said Mama. “Thank you, Mr. Garner. You have come to our rescue.”

* * *

Miles entered the dining room and sat at the head of the table. He frowned at the two extra place settings. “Why are there two extra plates when I’m eating alone?” he asked the footman.

“Because we are joining you,” said Lady Greywood from the doorway, wearing a light-rose gown with a cream lace overlay and looking every inch the marchioness. “And please don’t do anything childish, like leaving the room.”

He stood politely but glared at her. Him, childish? “I’m not the one wearing another’s clothes pretending to be someone I’m not.” Miles nodded to the footman, who poured a glass of wine and moved to the marchioness’s chair.

“ Oui , thank you. My daughter will have a glass too.” She smiled warmly at Miles. “We’ve missed you the past two nights. How have you been?”

“How do you think I’ve been?”

“Grumpy,” she said with a grin. “But we are family and will find a way past this.”

He snorted, then looked toward the door.

“Where is she?” As if summoning her with his question, Lady Gwendolyn appeared at the door, glorious long ringlets of burnished gold framing her beautiful face and trailing down her slender neck.

With flushed cheeks, her ocean-blue eyes sparkling, the smile she wore dazzled him.

She was stunning.

It was irritating.

Lady Gwendolyn wore an peach muslin dress, a bit outdated but revealing every curve, with a low neckline showing her ample bosom. He briefly wondered how uncomfortable it must have to been those generous mounds, then mentally kicked himself. He didn’t care.

Did he?

His brain may not care, but his body was having a definite reaction to this prime article.

He stood again and found his feet moving to pull out a chair for her.

What the devil was wrong with him? He was irate with this chit.

As she sat, the smell of lavender and vanilla wafted in the air, and he breathed it in.

The scent was enticing and calming at the same time.

Miles cleared his throat and returned to his seat. He would ignore them, ignore their tricks.

“I suppose I shall have to learn to ride sidesaddle now,” Lady Gwendolyn said in an attempt to make conversation. “Is it much more difficult?”

Her sultry voice washed over him, heat spreading low in his belly. Had she asked him a question? “Beg your pardon?” he croaked.

“Is sidesaddle more difficult to learn?” she asked again, her smile revealing the slight dimple in her right cheek.

Why did everything about her seem so sensuous now that she was female?

He shouldn’t be attracted to her. Yet, he found he missed their conversations, their easy camaraderie.

Those treasured moments when he felt as if he belonged to someone, as if he were not alone.

Miles tossed back the wine and signaled the footman for more.

“I wouldn’t know,” he said stiffly. “I’ve never attempted it.”

Lady Gwendolyn giggled, her flaxen curls bouncing. When he sent her a daggered glare, she covered her mouth, blue eyes wide.

“What is so humorous?”

“My imagination saw you in skirts, sitting on a horse with one leg wrapped around the pummel.” She bit her lip in an attempt to hide her grin. “I apologize, the image of you in a riding habit…”

A smile pulled at his lips.

“Whatever you do, Lord Wickton, do not smile. It will chip away at your resolve to remain angry with us,” said Lady Greywood. “We would hate to cause you any more upset.”

His eyes narrowed at his cousin’s sarcastic comment, but the smile continued to grow.

“I’m having a riding habit made next week. If you’d like to try it on—just to see how it feels—I’m happy to oblige.” Lady Gwendolyn shrugged, an impish glint in her eyes. “What’s good for the goose…”

The laughter erupted like a volcano, spewing out as if it had been held back and bubbling for some time. It evolved into guffaws, both ladies joining him until all three were wiping at their eyes.

“Fine,” croaked Miles, catching his breath. “I cannot stay angry with either of you.”

“We’ve missed you,” said Lady Greywood.

“Terribly,” added Lady Gwendolyn.

He nodded. “I need both of you to promise there will be no more secrets. If we are to move forward from this, I want that guarantee.”

“Of course.”

“Without a doubt,” they said at once.

The rest of the supper was a delight. They talked, laughed, and slowly reestablished the rip in their bond. Miles was still miffed, but he knew he would get over it. He wasn’t alone again, and being part of a family wasn’t always easy. One must take the good with the bad.

* * *

“Shall I play for us?” asked Lady Greywood after dinner. “Mr. Garner found some sheet music.”

“He seems to have taken to both of you,” said Wickton, his tone sounding suspicious.

“Mama can charm anyone,” answered Gwen. “Let’s have a lively tune.”

Her mother found a reel, and Gwen’s foot began tapping. “I wish I knew how to dance to this.” She gave Wickton a side-glance.

“I suppose I could teach you,” he replied with a smirk.

They stood opposite one another as he explained the complicated dance, coming together, backing away, moving around one another, palms touching?—

A jolt ripped through her as his warm skin pressed against hers. Their eyes met, held, and time seemed to stand still. His whisky eyes darkened; she couldn’t breathe. A thrum began low in her stomach as her heart pounded.

He swallowed.

She blinked.

“At-at this point, we would switch partners,” he said, his gaze still locked with hers.

She shook her head, lips parted, thinking of something to say. “I don’t want another partner.” It was a whisper. He couldn’t have heard.

Of course he heard.

He licked his lips, then swallowed again. His head bent slightly toward her, his eyes moving to her lips. Then he jerked back. “I believe I’m more tired than I thought. Perhaps I’ll call it an evening.”

Her hand went to his forearm. “Please, don’t go. We don’t have to dance anymore.”

Mama called from the pianoforte. “We could sing.”

He shook his head. “No, my apologies. Thank you for a lovely evening. I must retire.” He fled the room as if the devil himself were on his heels.

“What did I do wrong?”

Her mother smiled. “Absolutely nothing, my sweet daughter. Absolutely nothing.”