Page 16 of One Night of Temptation
Mr. Tarleton’s brows practically leapt from his forehead. He shifted and pressed his hand slightly against hers. “You plan to tell him you’ve been…compromised?”
“If I must. The implication is there already, however. That’s the entire purpose of this scheme.” She glanced at their hands, still together, but not in a truly satisfying way. She wanted to turn her hand over so they were palm to palm, but the courage she’d dredged up to talk about Findon was apparently all she had at present. “I was betrothed before—more than a year ago—but he died. This was my first Season, and I was to find a husband. When I failed, they arranged for me to marry.”
Mr. Tarleton frowned. “I am no expert, but it seems to me that plenty of people don’t marry during their first Season.”
She stiffened her spine against the back of the chair and adopted her haughtiest tone to mimic her mother. “ButIam not plenty of people.” Relaxing her shoulders, she moved her fingers. Maybe she could find the courage to turn her hand.
But her movement prompted him to finally take his hand away. Cool air rushed over her knuckles. She wanted to reach over and clasp him. She didn’t.
Shouts from outside drew them both to turn toward the window. Mr. Tarleton half stood to peer down at the street. “There’s a fight.” He leaned even farther over until his head nearly connected with the windowpane.
Penelope stood and tried to see what was happening. “Where did they go?”
His mouth straightened into a grim line as he rose to his full height. “I think they’re downstairs.”
A crashing sound from below made her jump. “Will they stay downstairs?”
“Let’s hope so.” He went to the door and checked the latch, then turned to face her. “Don’t go near the window.”
Alarm spread through her. She retreated to the fireplace. “Why?”
“Just to be safe. Sometimes people get unruly.”
She wasn’t entirely sure what that could mean, but she imagined someone throwing things and possibly breaking the window. She’d seen for herself how dangerous St. Giles could be. Another crashing sound made her flinch. “I must admit I’m glad you insisted on staying in here with me.”
He crossed the room and joined her at the hearth. “I am too. I promise you’ll be safe.” He reached out, and she was sure he meant to take her hand again. The rate of her pulse, already rapid, increased as she anticipated his touch…
Then someone pounded on the door.
Mr. Tarleton spun about and rushed back across the room.
“Tarleton, open up.”
Penelope didn’t recognize the voice, and given the turbulent sounds coming from downstairs, she didn’t think it would be wise to do as the man asked. Yet, the rector opened the door.
Mr. Tarleton exchanged words, barely above a whisper, with whoever was in the corridor then quickly closed the door and reset the lock. He turned to Penelope. “There’s a fight downstairs.”
“I see.” She hoped it stayed downstairs.
“We should be fine if we stay here. Hopefully it will pass without incident.”
Should be fine? Hopefully? Penelope’s concern progressed to apprehension. “It sounds as if it’s already an incident.” A loud crash punctuated her statement.
Mr. Tarleton glanced toward the door with an uneasy expression, his discomfort etched in the lines around his mouth and in the deep grooves burrowing across his forehead. “It does indeed.”
“I must say I don’t care for words such as ‘hopefully’ and ‘should,’” Penelope said.
“I don’t either. But Con—that’s who was at the door—is right. Fights break out and resolve themselves all the time. If we stay here, we likelywillbe fine.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “There you go usinglikely.”
Mr. Tarleton moved to stand before her in a trice. Now he did take her hand. His warmth and strength were instantly comforting. “Even if the fight did make its way upstairs, I would protect you. Nothing is going to happen to you here.” He stroked his thumb across her skin.
She was aware of his touch in a way she’d never been aware of a man’s touch before. It went beyond comfort, affecting her insides the way he’d been doing all day. The rigidity she almost constantly maintained loosened again. She clasped his hand more securely.
“You’re wrong,” she said softly.
His mouth turned down. “You don’t believe I can protect you?”
