Page 58 of Kiss Me Lady One More Time
She stomped on. Once, she stopped and looked at him, but then turned and paced away again. He said nothing, just waited.
“It’s not even that I feel a deep attachment to this house,” she told him, stopping at last, staring at him with arms akimbo. “It’s thedeceit. If James had asked, my father would have given him use of the place. But no. He’s here, thieving, and thinking he’s getting one over on my family.”
“He must have got himself into some sort of trouble,” Sterne theorized. “I cannot imagine—”
“I don’t care,” she said ruthlessly. “I don’t care what he’s done.” Even in the dim light he saw the shine of tears in her eyes. “It’s my fault! He stole it. I know he did. It may not be here, but he’s responsible. I feel it in my soul. And Hope and Tensford have been nothing but kind to me! James wouldn’t even have been at that party at Greystone, had not they not invited him, out of kindness to me! And this is how they are repaid?” He could hear the agony of regret and guilt in her words. “I could kill him! With my bare hands!”
He took a step toward her and she held out a hand to stop him. “No! Do not come near me. I’m nearly as angry with you!”
He drew a breath to defend himself, but to his horror, she burst into tears, sobbing as if her heart would break.
* * *
Oh,heaven help her. She was horrified. But she could not stop crying. She didn’t do it daintily, either. No pretty, shining tracks of tears for her. No. She sobbed and shook and blew her nose and cried buckets. She held far too many emotions to contain, and out they came, in great, sniveling sobs.
Sterne ignored her order to stay away, of course. He paused to remove his coat, then swooped in and bundled her into his arms. Carrying her into the parlor, he yanked a sheet off of a settee and settled into it, cradling her in his lap.
She cried harder, shedding grief and embarrassment and anger and hope and passion and a huge, overwhelming fear that things were not going to turn out. Not for her, nor for him. When her handkerchief grew sodden, he gave her his, and held her close, murmuring nonsense into her hair until at last, the tears, then the hiccups, stopped.
Spent, she curled into him. She’d dampened his neckcloth, but she didn’t care. He smelled like himself again, and she just breathed him in and floated in the calm that came after the storm.
“Well,” she said at last. “There’s another layer of mortification added to the bundle I’m carrying about.”
“No. Let it all go,” he ordered. “Lycett’s crimes are his own and nothing to do with you. You know neither Tensford nor his wife would ever blame you.”
“No.” She sighed. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel the truth of it.”
He stroked her hair and let his finger wander along her jaw and stop at her chin, where he tried to urge her to look up.
“No.” She shied away. “I must look a fright.”
He leaned back and ducked his head to look at her. “On the contrary. You look beautiful when you are blotchy.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. But she sat up and met his gaze.
“You are always beautiful,” he whispered.
She teared up again, but dashed them roughly away. “No. There will be no sweet talk. I’m still angry with you.”
He looked affronted. “With me? What have I done?”
“You know the answer to that.” It was an accusation. It put his back up. He stiffened, but didn’t answer.
“It’s what you haven’t done. The things you haven’t said.”
A bit of his brashness faded. He looked away.
She wouldn’t allow it. “You are almost worse than the rest of the lot,” she told him fiercely.
“The rest of the lot? Do you throw me in with your cousin?”
She sighed. “No. Of course not.”
“Who, then?” Realization dawned. “You mean with your mother’s pack of suitors?” He’d gone indignant again.
“They do not concern themselves with my hopes for the future, it’s true. Butyoujust assumed you knew what they were.”
“I know you wouldn’t wish to be saddled with my harridan of a mother. What woman would?”
