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T he dower house was a construction zone that Athena and Mr. Vernon had to pick their way through.

“Mrs. Hillman wanted a larger drawing room,” he explained as he showed Athena the newly expanded front parlor, which had been opened to include the chamber beside it.

“I remember your sister mentioning that she wished you could do something similar at Thorndale Manor. Fortunately, one of these walls was non-supporting and could be removed.”

“What a wonderful, spacious room.” Athena couldn’t help but be impressed by Mr. Vernon’s vision, and his expertise in carrying it out. “This fits Mrs. Hillman’s sensibilities so perfectly. Do you think she plans to move in here some day?”

“I don’t know. I have heard her mention that she may prefer to live in a smaller house and let a younger generation enjoy the comforts of Darkmoor Park.”

“A younger generation? But who?” It would be poetic justice, Athena thought, if Mrs. Hillman left Darkmoor Park to Mr. Vernon. He had long been a favorite of hers and doing so might help to make up for his loss of Thorndale Manor. It didn’t feel right to say so aloud, however.

“I presume she’ll leave it to Chapman. He’s her ward and the closest thing she has to a blood relative. I expect he’ll marry someday and be very grateful.”

That made sense, Athena supposed. She idly wondered what sort of woman Mr. Chapman might marry.

An image appeared in her brain of herself sitting across the dinner table from Mr. Chapman at Darkmoor Park.

It wasn’t an unpleasant notion, and yet she suddenly realized that she didn’t feel that way about Mr. Chapman.

She considered him more as a friend or a brother.

Her gaze fell on Mr. Vernon’s broad-shouldered back and trim waist as he headed across the room.

Her pulse picked up speed as another mental image presented itself.

She was sitting beside Mr. Vernon on a sofa, holding hands and intimately conversing by candlelight.

He pulled her to her feet, and they retreated upstairs to their bedchamber to…

“Be careful where you step.” Mr. Vernon’s warning brought Athena to a halt, her heart hammering. She had almost walked into a sawhorse. Her face flamed. Why had she been thinking about holding hands with Mr. Vernon? And about bedchambers?

“The old, wooden floors have been refinished so many times, they were paper thin, so we had to rip them out,” Mr. Vernon was explaining. “But we can’t finish the floors until we plaster the walls.”

Athena struggled to rein in her wayward thoughts as they navigated an expanse of rough subflooring, past piles of wooden boards that were waiting to be installed.

In the kitchen, a new iron ranger cooker stood beneath a sizeable iron hood. “I expect Mrs. Hillman has never stepped inside a kitchen in her life, but she wants her cook to be happy,” Mr. Vernon said with a grin.

He took Athena upstairs, where the floors were being similarly replaced. The vestibule on the first floor was so large, it felt like its own room. Mr. Vernon’s architectural drawings lay open on a makeshift table that had been created by a door on top of two sawhorses.

Athena deliberately stopped to study the drawings, to give her traitorous heart a chance to slow its rapid pace.

They were the same drawings she had seen at his cottage, and this time, she couldn’t help but marvel at the way his ink lines had been translated into improvements in the real world.

On closer inspection, though, she noticed a feature on the drawing of the vestibule that didn’t seem to exist in the room itself. “What is this?” she asked.

Mr. Vernon leaned in close and studied the drawing over her shoulder. “That is a very old feature of the house. A secret staircase that leads to the cellar.”

His cheek was inches away from Athena’s ear, and his breath was warm and sweet as it caressed her neck. Her heart began to thunder in hear ears. “Why did they need a secret staircase?”

“I suppose whoever lived here wanted a way to leave the house and return without anyone else noticing,” he said quietly.

His proximity was making it difficult for Athena to think.

She glanced at the corner of the room where the stairs were supposed to be but saw only a wall covered in faded wallpaper and wainscoting.

“I don’t see an entrance to a staircase.

” Was that really her voice? Why was it no louder than a whisper?

“You don’t see it because it’s a secret ,” he whispered in return.

His hand rose to the side of her neck and gently brushed aside several tendrils of hair that had gathered there.

The act caused an electric shock to sizzle through Athena’s entire being.

She was struck by an overwhelming sense of want for him to run his hands over other parts of her body. Now, this instant.

“There is a door there.” He lowered his head so that his mouth almost touched her neck. “It opens by a spring mechanism. But it’s practically seamless—and nearly invisible.”

“Oh,” Athena said breathlessly, but the word came out sounding more like a moan. You shouldn’t be here , she told herself, alone with him in this empty house . She’d known it was inadvisable and yet she had come, anyway.

Athena’s pulse was now as out of control as the runaway carriage that had nearly run her down. If she turned her head the slightest bit, her mouth would be inches away from his. Would he kiss her?

Did she want him to kiss her?

Yes, she did.

Athena rotated to face him, scarcely able to breathe. For a long moment, they simply stared at each other. The desire in his eyes was almost palpable and matched her own feelings.

“I have half a mind to kiss you right now,” he said softly.

“Why don’t you?” she heard herself whisper. Had she really said that aloud? How brazen! What must he think of her?

His eyebrows raised slightly. “I thought, with your beliefs about freedom, you might not welcome a kiss from me,” he said quietly.

“I would not welcome a kiss from just any man. But I think you are different. I think you understand me.”

“Do I?”

He lifted one hand to her cheek and cupped it gently. The touch of his fingers felt almost as intimate as a kiss. Did he mean to stop there? Athena couldn’t help herself—she leaned forward until her mouth was almost touching his, inviting him to kiss her.

And so he did.

It had been so long since she’d been kissed; Athena had almost forgotten what it felt like.

Oh, the joys of being kissed! His lips moved against hers as softly and tenderly as a feather.

And then they pressed more warmly and eagerly, a sensation that sent hot spirals quivering through her to her very core.

Athena closed her eyes, savoring his caress and returning it, a kiss so wondrous that she never wanted it to stop.

But it did, all too soon. He broke the contact and gazed down into her eyes. “Don’t worry.” His voice was huskier than usual. “You’re still a free woman. It was just a kiss.”

Unaccountably, disappointment rang through her. Was it because the kiss was over? Or because of what he’d just said? It was just a kiss. “Yes. It was,” she answered quickly, surprised by the tremor in her voice.

He released her and stepped back. “I suppose it’s time for this tour to come to an end. I have some work to do here, but I’m happy to escort you back to the manor house?”

He sounded so matter-of-fact. Athena struggled to recover her sense of decorum.

“That won’t be necessary. I remember the way. Thank you for the tour, Mr. Vernon. I bid you good day.”

He returned the sentiment and Athena promptly departed.

As she hurried back through the gardens, her mind reeled with confusion.

What was she to make of her behavior just now?

She had wanted that kiss, had invited it.

She had enjoyed every minute of it and had been sorry when it had been over.

Mr. Vernon seemed to have enjoyed it, too.

It had been evident in every touch of his lips, every hitch of his breath, and by the heated look in his eyes when they had met hers.

And yet when it had ended, he had been so cavalier—as if it had meant nothing. “It was just a kiss.”

A kiss between a man and woman often led to a marriage proposal.

After sharing a stolen embrace with Giles Shaw, he had asked for her hand.

But clearly, Mr. Vernon didn’t see it that way.

On the one hand, it was a relief. She was certainly not interested in an offer of marriage.

On the other hand, it was insulting. Did he think she went about kissing men willy-nilly?

That couldn’t be further from the truth!

But then, Athena thought as her cheeks flamed, what on Earth had possessed her to kiss him?

Athena couldn’t believe that, for a moment, she had actually envisioned herself married to Mr. Vernon. And in bed together! The in bed part didn’t shock her—that was an act she’d always thought would be wonderful, if she ever married. But she had determined so firmly to never wed.

How was she to reconcile that promise to herself with the way she had acted just now, and with the bundle of emotions still coursing through her?

As she marched towards the manor house, Athena made a new promise to herself. That kiss had been an aberration. She liked Mr. Vernon. Very much. So much so that she had lost control for a moment. But that moment was over.

She would put it behind her and hope that he did as well.

*

“You are very quiet,” Selena said that night as she and Athena prepared for bed.

Athena always told her sister everything. But she didn’t want to tell her about the kiss she had shared with Mr. Vernon. The feel of his lips on hers was forever burned in her memory. Despite herself, Athena tingled every time she thought about it, and she had thought of little else all evening.