Page 12 of The Baron Without Blame
He was a right scoundrel. That was all that could be said.
Chapter Six
It took exactly one quarter of an hour for Lolly’s embarrassment to crystalize into anger. Rejoining her mother and sisters in the garden, her eyes stung with tears. One moment, Martin had been caressing her with his tongue, and the next, he had banished her from the room. The look in his eyes as he did so, too – oh, Lolly couldn’t stand how his whole body shimmered with disgust. She shouldn’t have kissed him.
Lolly had not realized how much she wanted Martin’s esteem. Even though she wouldn’t marry him. He was handsome – that was part of it. But more, he tried so hard to be kind. To live up to the noble in nobility. He thought about the world so differently than anyone Lolly had ever met. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted to absorb that. Or how much she wanted him to see the same qualities in her.
Instead, he looked at her with disgust.
That circle of thoughts kept flooding her eyes, so that she had to blink every few moments or else spear her fingers with the needle.
But as she revisited the incident in the study for the hundredth time – ignoring her sisters’ endless debate on which slogan was better for a pillow cushion – the tears disappeared. No, she shouldn’t have kissed him. But he had kissed her back. Not accidentally, either. His hands had known exactly where to go, his tongue exactly how to undo her, his hips… Lolly had felt his hard sexual organ even through the layers of her gown.
If Mr. Maulvi hadn’t interrupted, Lolly suspected Martin would have kept kissing her. Perhaps he would have done more: touched her, undressed her, even swived her.
And he was the one who knew what all that was about. Lolly had kissed him out of pure instinct; she had only a vague idea of what came next. He was the gentleman. He was supposed to put a stop to such activities. Or at least warn her when they were about to go too far. For that matter, Martin was the one who had touched her first. The kiss was merely a natural reaction to him.
In which case it was himself he should be disgusted with, not her. He had no right to toss her across the room like a hot iron he shouldn’t have touched. To glare at her, as if she were a snake that had slithered into his boot. He was the one leading her to temptation, not the other way around.
“Charlotte, really, you can’t be serious!” Louisa interrupted Lolly’s thoughts with a strident screech.“To thine own self be true?What will people think?”
“Not all pillows have to quote the Bible,” Charlotte retorted, her voice thick with hurt.
“Oh yes they should!” Louisa gasped in the same moment that Mama said in her quiet ultimatum voice, “Young ladies!”
Lolly measured her feelings. She had run out of the study in such desperation. Heavy limbs, sinking stomach, stinging eyes. But now she felt only anger. Buoyant, hot, righteous anger.
It wasn’t fair that Martin should shame her. Clearly, he wasn’t the kind man she had thought him. And clearly, he wasn’t as openminded as she expected. After all, every lord was expected to “sow his wild oats” before marrying, a saying which Lolly knew referred to even more than kissing. Here she was, engaged to marry this man, and he wanted to shame her for claiming a kiss?
She jerked out of her chair. “Please excuse me, Mama.”
Mama nodded, even as Louisa asked, “Where are you going?”
“I have to write to Frances.” Lolly didn’t even feel guilt as she lied, “To share the good news with her.”
“Oh, Frances,” Louisa sighed. “You put too much stock in her opinion, if you ask me.”
“Frances was always too serious,” Charlotte chimed in. Lolly swept past them, not bothering with a reply. There was one thing on her mind: to finally right this wrong engagement.
?
Maulvi raised an eyebrow at Martin as Lolly rushed out, then walked calmly to the baron’s desk. “The list you requested, my lord.”
Martin felt his face burning. “It’s good you came. I had forgotten myself.”
“I saw nothing.” Maulvi did look amused though, with his lips hitched in a little smile. “Nothing that is inappropriate for a few months before the wedding, anyhow.”
Except they weren’t getting married. And he couldn’t tell anyone, not even Maulvi. Martin hurled out a curse, then dropped to his knees to roll up the painted canvases. “You have always been my conscience, Maulvi. I am indebted to you for that. If only I could live up to your example.”
Maulvi helped roll the third painting. It was a moment before he said, “That would mean more if you actually knew what kind of example I set.”
Martin tucked the paintings into their cylindrical cases one by one. “Of course I know your example. What, do you imply that you have been lying to me all these thirty years?”
“Not lying.” Back on his feet, Maulvi arranged the papers on the desk into straight, careful lines. “I am your servant, nothing more.”
Martin stared at the man. His skin still sang with the memory of Lolly, and now Maulvi wanted to confuddle things with another complication. Hang it. “You are my family. Nothing less.”
There was one more moment of silence. Maulvi watched Martin tensely from the corner of his eye; Martin looked down, brushing his hands as if doing so could erase the last quarter hour. Not that he wanted to erase Lolly’s kiss. Except, of course, he should want to do so.
