Page 35 of Pursuing Lord Pascal
Amy’s shoulders tautened, although she knew that this interrogation was inevitable. And also that Sally asked the question to shift the focus away from herself. “He’s courting me.”
“Which he’s done assiduously for the last three weeks. I’ve never seen the man work so hard to win a woman. Usually they’re clamoring after him.”
“That’s part of the problem,” Amy admitted, staring into her glass to avoid Sally’s perceptive gaze. She’d never told her friends that Pascal wanted to marry her. Although since he’d become the perfect escort, he hadn’t mentioned marriage. Quite possibly, he’d dismissed the idea, now Amy proved so much trouble.
“Oh, tosh. None of those women meant a farthing to him.”
A chill ran down her spine. “You seem remarkably well informed,” she said stiffly.
Dear God, had she been too naïve for words? Pascal and Sally were old friends and visibly comfortable together. Had they once been more than friends?
Scorn edged Sally’s snort. “Tuck in your claws. We’ve never been lovers. I was faithful to my husband, and since his death, nobody has tempted me to err.”
“Then why are you pushing me along the primrose path?” Amy said, ashamed of her petty jealousy.
Sally shrugged. “I’m not opposed to taking a lover. Perhaps I’ll look around more seriously, once I’ve got Meg settled.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t know.” A dreamy light that Amy had never seen before softened Sally’s expression. “It's just that you and Pascal seem…right somehow. Like you fit. To be candid, I expected him to tumble you into bed that night you came in from the Bartletts’ garden, looking like he’d kissed you into next week.”
“Oh.” Heat prickled Amy’s cheeks. “You noticed.”
“I could hardly miss it.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
Sally smiled. “You were doing well without interference. But since then, you’ve turned as prim as a middle-aged governess, and he’s tiptoeing around you as if terrified you’ll shatter at the first touch.”
“I want…I want him to prove he’s genuinely interested.”
Sally rolled her eyes. “He’s so interested, he looks ready to cut his throat unless you show him a drop of kindness. Which would be a sad waste of a very pretty man.”
Amy sent her friend a direct look. “By kindness, you mean let him seduce me.”
Sally shrugged and refilled her glass. “Or you could seduce him. I hate to see you at odds, when it’s perfectly obvious that you’re both mad for one another.”
“I’ve never…I’ve never taken a lover,” Amy said unsteadily.
“Well, given dried-up old Wilfred Mowbray is the extent of your experience, it’s time you did.”
“Wilfred was a good man,” she snapped, hearing the guilt lurking beneath her defense of her late husband. Because of course, Pascal excited her in ways that Wilfred never had.
“He was. But he’s gone now. And he was always too old for a vivid creature like you.” Sally set her glass on a side table. The understanding in her face made Amy feel that her friend guessed all her secrets. Including her aching longing to surrender to Pascal and sample this hot magic that put the whole world in a stew. “You need to see what a young, virile man can do for you.”
“And that young, virile man is Lord Pascal?”
“He’s certainly willing. I’ve never seen a man as…willing.”
“It’s a big step.”
“And you’re frightened.”
Amy’s lips twitched. “Terrified. And I can’t quite believe he’s attracted to me.”
Compassion flooded Sally’s face. “Oh, Amy, I hoped you’d got over this silly self-doubt. You’re lovely and smart and unusual, and any man would be lucky to win you. I know it. Meg knows it. Morwenna knows it. All those men who line up to dance with you know it. Believe me, Lord Pascal knows it. The only person who doesn’t know it is you.”
“You make me sound so poor spirited,” Amy said in a subdued voice. The brandy that had tasted so pleasant on her palate now burned like acid in her stomach.
