Page 58 of Bookshop Cinderella

She gave a little laugh. “After the wanton way I kissed you back, I can’t think why.”

“There is nothing wrong in what you felt, Evie, or the way you responded.” His throat went dry at the memory of just how sweet her response had been, and he had to swallow hard before he could go on. “You have nothing to reproach yourself with. Which brings me to what I came to say, if you’ll allow me.” He paused just long enough to suck in a deep breath, then he said, “Any of the blame in this is wholly mine. I promised that you were safe in my company, and it never occurred to me that you would not be. It’s just that, when you smile that adorable crooked smile you’ve got, it makes me rather lose my head.”

Her eyes widened in astonishment. Her lips parted as if to reply, but afraid that he’d never say what he came to say if he let her, he continued desperately, “But despite my conduct the other night, please believe me when I say that I have never at any point intended to make you my mistress. I would never dishonor you in such a way. I admit that carnal thoughts of you have crossed my mind, because I am a man, Evie, God knows, as weak as any other—”

He broke off, appreciating too late that these confessions of his vulnerability where she was concerned were sending him onto very thin ice, and if her wide eyes and scarlet cheeks were anything to go by, he’d already fallen through to the chilling depths of eternal condemnation. “The point is,” he said, hoping to hurl himself back onto the much safer ground of friendship, “you are a young lady, far too virtuous and good for any course but an honorable one, and after the other night—”

“Good heavens, Max!” she burst out, staring at him in what could only be described as horrified shock, “you’re not here to propose marriage to me because of what happened, are you?”

He blinked, aghast, feeling every bit as shocked as she looked, but for the life of him, he could think of nothing to say. His carefully prepared apologies and explanations had long since sailed off into the wind, what he had been saying was proving dismally incoherent, and now, he could only shake his head helplessly in reply to her question.

“Oh, thank heaven,” she breathed, pressing a hand to her chest with a laugh of obvious relief. “But you denied wanting to make me your mistress with such vehemence, and with the flowers, and the compliments, and the...ahem...feelings you describe, it did suddenly occur to me that you might be leading up to a much more honorable proposition than I’d originally thought, and if you were, that would be so awkward.”

This entire conversation was awkward. He was glad, of course, that she wasn’t harboring any false hopes that he’d have to quash, but really, did she have to be so relieved about the fact that he wasn’t offering matrimony? After that searing kiss, most women of his acquaintance would have been crushed to learn a proposal of marriage was not in the offing, especially one from a duke.

But then, he’d known all along the expectations associated with his rank and his privileged world did not impress Evie. Perverse bastard that he was, he found that very quality of hers to be both beguiling and aggravating, in equal measure.

“I realize that in these circumstances, some women might feel that a man has an obligation to propose,” she said, almost as if reading his mind, “since kissing a woman when you’re not engaged to her isn’t the sort of thing a gentleman like you is supposed to do. But really, Max, it was just a kiss.”

“Just a kiss?” he echoed, insulted when he ought to be relieved.

She seemed to sense his chagrin. “I don’t mean to say it wasn’t wonderful,” she rushed on, “because it was. Truly. Not that I’m much of a judge about such things because I’d never been kissed before in my life.”

“Yes,” he managed to say. “I gathered that.”

“You did? How?”

Despite everything—the warmth of her cheek still lingering on his palm, the temptations that still danced on the edge of his mind, the damnable awkwardness of this moment—he almost wanted to smile. She was so charmingly unaware. But it wasn’t as if he could explain. Talking about her passionate, astonished, obviously inexperienced reaction to his kiss would only start him back down a road it had taken him three days to veer from. “A man can often sense these things,” he said.

“Oh,” she murmured, looking suitably impressed. “Still, as wonderful as it was, a kiss is hardly sufficient reason to contemplate marriage. And we both know we would be completely unsuited as marriage partners.” She laughed again. “Me, marry you? Why, it would be a mad idea.”

As much as he might agree with the gist of that sentiment, it irritated him that she found the idea of his hand in marriage something to laugh about.

“Very mad, indeed,” he agreed stiffly.

“Even if it is the honorable thing to do after what happened between us, I could never marry you. I could only marry a man I was in love with. I realize it’s not the same for you. You have other considerations, but even so, I’m sure the girl you’ve chosen is perfect for you.”

“Oh, yes, perfect,” he agreed, having no idea what else to say.

“She’s beautiful, of course.”

“Stunning.” He tried to summon some degree of enthusiasm about Helen’s well-known beauty, but his brains were so scrambled just now that he was finding it hard to even remember what she looked like.

“She’s accomplished, too, I’ll wager, and charming, and of course, she’s a lady.”

“Naturally,” he said and wondered why this list of Helen’s many admirable qualities was making him feel so depressed.

“She’ll be a wonderful duchess. I, of course, would make a hash of the whole beastly business.”

“Oh, yes, no doubt,” he agreed automatically, not realizing how insulting that sounded until the words had spilled out. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No, no, Max, please don’t be sorry. It’s true. Me, a duchess? What a dreadful prospect.”

She was shaking her head and smiling, but for his own part, Max was finding no humor whatsoever in this conversation.

Evie seemed to sense at least something of what he was thinking, for her smile faded. “Max?” she said in some uncertainty. “I haven’t offended you, have I?”

“No, no.” Not unless deservedly cutting a man down to size without even realizing it was offensive.

---