Page 24 of The Duke of Ruin
“There’s nothing to forgive.” Her voice was tight and small.
He had a hard time believing that. She could barely look at him, and she was pushed up against the side of the coach in an effort to ensure she didn’t touch him at all.
“Then why are you acting so skittish?”
The coach rumbled forward, taking them out of the yard and onto the road.
“I’m not.”
She wasn’t making this easy. In fact, she was frustrating the hell out of him. “You won’t look at me. You’re not even completely under this blanket, which can’t make you comfortable. You’re upset with me.”
She looked at him then, her blue eyes vivid and intense in the dim light of the gray December morning. “I am not. I’m upset withme. I never should have asked you to do that last night.”
Of course she regretted it. Any well-bred young woman would. Which was why he never should have done it.
“The fault is mine.”
Instead of calming her, his words seemed to have the opposite effect. Her shoulders puffed up, and her eyes sparked. “It isnot. I put you in an unconscionable position.”
She blamed herself? He thought for a moment, considering everything he knew of her, of her upbringing. Of course she blamed herself. She would’ve been taught to do that. “Not unconscionable,” he said lightly. “I would say enviable.”
She pursed her lips and stared at him.
“Any man would’ve killed to do what I did.”
“I’d wager none of them would have been as good at it.”
Oh God, nothing she said could’ve been worse. Or better. Hell, this was a tangle.
“Miss Kingman,” he began, forcing himself to revert to a more appropriate form of address. “What happened last night was wonderful—to me, anyway.”
“It was to me as well,” she said hastily, and again, color rose in her cheeks.
He found her hand beneath the blanket and gave it a squeeze, releasing it quickly for fear he wouldn’t let go. “You mustn’t be embarrassed. Not with me.”
She was quiet a moment and managed to hold his gaze, which he sensed took great courage. “I’ll try. It was…a singular event for me, which, of course, you know.”
“As it was for me, which I think you also know.” He curled his lips into a slight smile. “Let us remember it fondly—our night at the Jolly Goat—and let us not speak of it. Unless you want to.”
“No, that’s fine.”
He thought so too. Better for them to go back to the way things were. “Good. Can we continue as we were?”
“I’d like that.”
He pulled the blanket over so that it completely covered her, which left a bit of his leg exposed. She scooted closer to him—not so they were touching, but so that the blanket could cover them both. They were quiet for a few minutes, and Simon wondered if it was really going to be possible to pretend last night had never happened.
She finally spoke. “You play the role of Mr. Byrd quite well. Since you travel under this alias, may I assume that is how you’ve developed the particulars? The estate, for example.”
“It’s much easier to travel as a simple country gentleman instead of as a duke. Particularly the Duke of Ruin,” he said wryly.
Her blue eyes were dark with concern. No one looked at him like that, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“I doubt the Ogdens would know about that unfortunate nickname.”
“Probably not. Sometimes I think it might be nice to be Mr. Byrd permanently.”
Her brows climbed. “You’d like to run away and disappear? Is that why you suggested that course to me?”
