Page 27 of As the Earl Likes
“If you wish.” Jo wanted to tell him not to bother, for she rather thought she’d seen quite enough of him for one day. They would be spending a great deal of time together in the coming weeks, and she didn’t need to look at his mouth or recall his lips on hers any more than was necessary.
Sheff gave her a courtly bow. “Until later, my dearest.” He chuckled before leaving.
Jo put her hand to her mouth, her fingertips pressing gently against her lips. Then she turned her hand and surveyed the oval sapphire weighted against her finger. For something that was entirely make-believe, today’s charade had felt far too real.
Chapter 6
As Sheff paced the library where he was shortly due to meet with his parents, he wasn’t thinking of the impending interview. He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about kissing Jo.
He’d felt an undeniable and profound connection, sharp and sizzling like electricity, but also deep and persistent. It was as though he could still feel the imprint of her lips on his.
Apparently, he’d been too many days without the embrace of a woman. He’d rectify that this evening and pay a visit to the Rogue’s Den.
Jo’s mother’s suggestion came back to him, that he ought to abstain from sexual congress for the duration of their fake betrothal. He’d somehow managed not to gape at her in horror.
“Shefford, my darling.”
Sheff turned to see his mother glide into the room, her hair impeccably arranged with her gray streaks somehow looking as though they’d been placed specifically to enhance the style. She wore a pale green dress, and a simple gold cross adorned her neck.
“Good afternoon, Mama.”
“I confess my curiosity is quite piqued that you asked me to meet you at a specific time.” A smile teased her lips, and Sheff hated that his father’s arrival was about to ruin her mood.
However, before he could tell her that his father would also join them, the duke strode into the library. His gaze fell on the duchess. He pursed his lips but said nothing as he went straight to the liquor cabinet and poured a glass of wine.
“Afternoon, Sheff,” he said gruffly.
“Why is he here?” Mama asked, her eyes darkening.
“I live here,” Papa replied as he turned to face her, a bored expression flattening his features.
“Hardly.” Mama sniffed and turned so that she faced Sheff. “You asked us both here?”
“I did. I’m pleased to announce my betrothal.”
His father had just taken a drink of wine and was now coughing whereas his mother gasped. One hand flew to her throat as she gaped at him, her blue eyes wide with shock.
“You’d better not be bamming us,” his father said after he’d recovered himself. He cast a glance toward the duchess, a single furrow marring his brow. Was he…concerned about her? About how she might feel if Sheff was tricking them?
No. Of course not.
“Sheff would never,” the duchess said almost breathlessly.
A pang of guilt gripped Sheff and squeezed him tightly. But then he thought of the incessant haranguing, of the countless uncomfortable conversations with her in which she’d browbeat him about his duty and how he must wed. And that he needed to be a good husband—kind, understanding, and, above all, discreet.
It was an impossible situation. He would disappoint her by remaining unwed, and he would disappoint her by utterly failing as a husband.
“I truly have a betrothed,” Sheff said, pushing the guilt to the back of his mind. “Even now, she is wearing Grandmama’s ring.” He glanced at his father, who blinked in surprise.
“She would like that,” the duke said somewhat somberly before sipping his wine.
“Aren’t you going to tell us who she is?” Mama asked, her voice slightly shrill. “I can’t begin to imagine. This is a shocking development. You weren’t even courting anyone, as far as I know.”
“I was not. However, I have known this lady for a while now. We are friends. I danced with her at the Phoenix Club ball last night, and something had changed between us. I realized—and she did too—that we could perhaps be more than friends. I think that is why I haven’t wanted to wed before now,” Sheff said, warming to his tale. “Apparently, I needed a strong foundation with someone before I felt ready to propose marriage.”
Something about the words, though they were a complete fabrication, rang true somewhere deep inside Sheff. If he were ever to wed, and he would not, friendship seemed as good a basis as any. A friend would not expect love.
His mother and father stared at him blankly.
