Page 60 of The Viscount in her Bedroom
Then she sighed. “What do you want from me, Simon?”
“I don’t really know. I’ve apologized about…the second kiss—”
“Kiss?” she echoed dryly.
“Passionate kiss, then. The last time I talked to you, you thought I was treating you as a convenience, and I want you to know that is far from the truth.”
She said nothing.
“But I have no excuse for my behavior. I will try to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Try?”
“I can’t make guarantees, Louisa. As you’ve said before, there’s an awareness between us, and sometimes it’s too powerful.”
“Is that why you’re here tonight?” Her voice sounded cool.
“No. I simply enjoyed talking to you the other night in this room, and I thought we could…talk again.” God, he sounded like an idiot, even to himself. “And make things better,” he added.
She gave another sigh, and when she spoke, her voice was gentler. “I don’t have a candle lit, but I think you’re only about three paces from the chair you used the last time. Straight ahead of you.”
Putting his hand out, he walked slowly, then found it easily enough. He heard the sound of clothing being donned, felt her footsteps as she neared him and sat down beside him. They were both in darkness, their common ground, and he was a little embarrassed by how comfortable he felt like that.
“So what do you want to talk about?” she asked.
He hesitated. “Perhaps why you felt the need to prove to Keane that I’m still a man—an intelligent man, anyway.”
“That’s not what I was proving, Simon, and you know it.”
He liked her defensiveness, liked the prickly way she reacted when he’d aroused her anger. He was used to women wanting to behave as they thoughthewanted them to. But Louisa had a mind of her own. She was certainly not needy.
“Lord Keane is a—a boar,” she continued, as if that was the worst insult she could find.
He chuckled. “He’s not so bad.”
“To slur you like that, because he thought he could get away with it now.”
“He’s always slurred me like that. Frankly, I was glad he hadn’t changed.”
“Oh.” She sounded shocked and puzzled. “Still, it was unforgivably rude to taunt you about women, when you certainly have no problem—” She stuttered to a stop.
He chuckled again, feeling warm and content. “I have no problem talking to women?” he said to help her out.
“Of course.” She choked on the words.
Regardless of her guilt, she’d enjoyed what they had done together. He felt foolishly glad about that.
“Being among those men today,” she began in a more serious voice. “It reminded me too much of my old life.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand. I thought you said you enjoyed Society.”
“Yes, and I have many happy memories. But…I guess some of those memories are linked with having money, and I had no idea how much it made me equate money with happiness.”
He said nothing, unsure if she wanted a response, or just needed someone to listen.
“When my father died, I realized that he obviously equated the two. When he didn’t have money, he didn’t want to live.”
“Or maybe he didn’t want to live with the shame of everyone knowing the mistakes he’d made.”
