Page 40 of Tall, Dark & Wicked
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, I see the Divets.” Mother ignored his question. She was bouncing in her seat in excitement. “I was so hoping they’d been invited. Mr. and Mrs. Divet have been abroad for nearly two years traveling all over America. The tales they must have! Dinner is bound to be fascinating.”
“I somehow doubt that.” Brendan pinched the bridge of his nose wishing he was still in the middle of a brawl at the Whistling Pig in Buxton.
15
Petra was late.
Mother was bound to have a fit if she didn’t hurry downstairs to the drawing room, especially if Lady Pendleton was forced to delay dinner on Petra’s behalf. After several sleepless nights, ones in which she merely tossed about her bed thinking on her current situation, Petra found herself drifting off while reading in the gardens and decided on a late afternoon nap. Morwick, who’d invaded her thoughts nearly every night since she’d left Somerton, was blissfully absent from her dreams today, and she’d fallen into a deep sleep.
Stomach grumbling, she surveyed herself in the mirror. She’d slept through tea and the arrival of most of the guests and was now starving.
Petra looked down at the barely discernable rise of her bosom. “I resemble a small boy dressing up in his sister’s clothing.” Petra had never given much thought to her figure one way or another. She was slender and small-boned, with the bosom to match. But since meeting Katherine, she found herself constantly comparing herself to Simon’s sister. Petra supposed it had more to do with Morwick than anything else. Next to Katherine, Petra was drab and childlike.
“Begging your pardon, my lady, but you do not.” Tessie stood just behind her. “You are lovely. And the color of the dress brings out the green in your eyes. Lord Pendleton won’t be able to take his eyes off of you.”
The pale green dress, the color of spring grass, was one of her favorites, though she couldn’t remember the last time the garment had been worn. She hadn’t even realized Tessie had packed the dress until Petra saw it hanging in the armoire after her arrival.
“Thank you, Tessie.” She hadn’t the heart to tell her maid she doubted Simon would notice anything about her, let alone the color of her dress, unless she drew undue attention to herself.
“You’ll be late, my lady. I’m surprised your mother hasn’t sent for you.” Tessie surveyed Petra once more and nodded. “You should go down.”
Petra thanked the maid again and hurried out the door only to be halted by a wall of warm muscle smelling of the moors, pine, and vaguely of soap. Her breasts, small things that they were, pushed impudently against the crisply pressed shirt. And itwasnicely pressed, a change from his usual slightly rumpled appearance. Not a hint of ancient cambric nor a speck of dust decorated the broad chest.
Petra tilted her chin back. There was still a shadow clinging to the line of his jaw. Possibly Woods hadn’t shaved him close enough or more likely, Morwick hadn’t cared to shave at all. A grimace graced his full lips as he returned her regard. Really, she was starting to consider it more of a smile. A surge of delight filled her at the sight of him.
“Hello, Perfect Petra.” The raspy voice tripped over her skin.
“Good evening, Lord Morwick.” A sudden unsteadiness caused her to rock toward him in a most alarming manner, as if she were on board a small boat buffeted by a wave. Her pulse beat wildly, her body thrilled to be in close proximity to his. In desperation to restore her sanity, Petra attempted to move aside, unsurprised to find the lace of her bodice caught in the button of his coat.
Of course the bloody button was caught. She’d been consistently ruining her clothing since leaving London.
“Do not bother to help. The gown is one of my favorites and I would be quite unhappy were it to be damaged. Stay still.”
His eyes darkened to indigo, the bits of gold surrounding his pupils glittering in the light of the hallway lamps. Morwick had the most beautiful eyes, like a lake sparkling with sunlight to illuminate the depths below. She found herself wishing to drown in those eyes and not bother to save herself.
Get ahold of yourself, Petra.
“There are some occasions, Petra, when the tearing of a dress is warranted.”
The skin of her arms prickled awash with heat.
“I’m not certain there is any instance in which the tearing of a lady’s dress is warranted.” Only an inch separated she and Morwick. If another guest were to come upon them, the worst would be assumed and Petra would be immediately ruined. At the very least, there would be talk and possibly a scandal.
Morwickcertainlyknew such a thing. Possibly he didn’t. He wasn’t much of a gentleman.
“When you are annoyed or considering something, your nose scrunches up like a rabbit,” he murmured in a soft voice. His breath stirred the small hairs around her temple.
Petra worried the bit of lace stuck on his button, her fingers brushing against his shirt, becoming more clumsy by the second. At last the lace came free. Her hands immediately flew down to clasp before her. “An unwelcome comparison to a creature with prominent teeth and large ears,” she stuttered, sounding like the pea-wit she was often accused of being.
Morwick leaned over, words vibrating against the skin of her neck. “I happen to like rabbit.”
Petra’s body arched as if on command, drawn to the low, erotic suggestion in his voice.
Bollocks.She was beginning to understand the usefulness of cursing. It helped to center a person.
A small, rather smug grin graced his mouth before he straightened. He turned toward the stairs without a backward glance, as if he’d only told her it was raining outside or some other mundane comment.
