Page 61 of As the Earl Likes
Scanning the cardroom, Sheff didn’t see Jo anywhere else either. He returned to the common room, his heart beating faster than he would like—it wasn’t as if Jo had gone missing, for heaven’s sake.
There she was, standing at the bar, talking to the woman behind it who was dispensing ale. Sheff exhaled, relieved to have found her. Warmth spread in his chest. He wanted to go to her, to spend the rest of the evening in her company.
He turned away and brought the tankard to his lips, his hand shaking. What was wrong with him?
Allard’s observations flooded Sheff’s mind. He realized there might be truth in them. He could very well be in love with his make-believe betrothed. But why would that even matter? It wouldn’t last, and—anyway—she would never marry him.
A touch on his arm sent heat racing through his body. He didn’t have to turn or hear her voice to know it was Jo.
“Sheff?”
Taking a deep breath to steady his raging pulse, he turned to face her. “Evening, Jo.”
She wore one of her “regular” working gowns, something between a day dress and an evening gown. “I saw you in the cardroom, but then you were speaking with Allard, and I had things to check on.”
“You’re a busy woman. It’s surprisingly attractive.”
She arched a brow at him. “Can we have just one conversation without your blatant flirting?”
“I wasn’t flirting. I was being honest.” He sighed. “Perhaps I shouldn’t be that either, though.”
“Just keep your feelings of attraction to yourself. It would be…best. Is now a bad time to ask how your vow of celibacy is going?”
Sheff couldn’t help his shout of laughter. “Now you’re just being cruel.” He laughed some more. “It’s progressing without incident. And I wouldn’t call it a vow. It’s a requirement of our arrangement.”
She put her hand to her chest. “I didn’t make it one.”
“I did.”
“Who said you could make rules?” she asked saucily, her eyes glinting with humor.
“I’m only making them when they apply to me. I would never presume to make a rule for you.”
“I appreciate that,” she said softly. “Just as I appreciate your…protective nature. I was thinking about what happened last night at the rout, and I should not have prevented you from doing what you wanted with those busybodies.”
“That is too kind a term for them. You were only trying to save me from my baser, vengeful nature. I must thank you for that. I’m afraid I became rather primally defensive of you.”
Her gaze met his, and Sheff felt a connection that stole his breath. “You should not be, but I thank you,” she murmured. “It’s disconcerting to think of someone wanting to protect you in that way. But also exhilarating.”
God, this dance they kept doing was going to kill him. They flirted. They admonished each other for flirting. They acknowledged their mutual attraction. They dismissed that attraction.
He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. It seemed he was going to have to leave London as a matter of self-preservation.
Sheff took a long drink of ale, finishing the tankard. “I should go.”
She took the empty vessel from him. Their fingers did not touch, and he was incredibly disappointed.
“I’ll see you at the ball Saturday. Ten o’clock?”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
She gave him a quizzical look. “For what?”
“For agreeing to this silly scheme. For putting up with what other people say and do. For suffering my ceaseless roguery.”
“You’re making it very worth my while,” she said, her eyes gleaming with things he couldn’t discern and decided he was better off not knowing.
Chapter 13
