Forbidden to Love the Duke(49)
It took him almost a minute before he withdrew his hand from her warmth. “I promise you,” he said, “this isn’t going to be the last time we’re together.”
She surprised him with a cynical smile. “You led me here under false pretenses.”
He watched in regret as she drew her skirt down over her knees. “And what about the man who brought you here? Were you leading him on a chase?”
She frowned. “No, not intentionally.”
“How long have you known him? Where did you meet?”
She slid back against the couch to sit upright. “I met him in London when—oh, I might as well tell you the truth.”
“I’d prefer you did. In fact, considering what’s happening between us, I expect you to.”
“It’s rather embarrassing, but not as unsavory as what you’re thinking.”
“You don’t know what I’m thinking,” he said with a frown.
“Yes. I do. You’re jealous.”
“I’m not. All right—perhaps I am a little. I am still insulted that you didn’t ask me for an advance.”
“How? There were scores of other applicants for the job. It didn’t seem a good way to start work by asking for a loan.” She looked away. “I wanted to make a good impression.”
“Oh, you did,” he said quickly.
“Not that sort of impression. I almost died when I dropped my door knocker and ended up on the floor with you.”
“Forgive me.”
She looked back at him. “I’m every bit as guilty as you.”
“That must have been quite an accident,” he mused, drawing a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his hand. The scent of her body still tantalized him. He didn’t want it to go away.
“There wasn’t an accident.” Her frown deepened at the memory. “The incident alarmed the bystanders more than it did me. I was so preoccupied, I never saw the phaeton coming.”
Preoccupied. James understood that. It took enormous effort for him to carry on this conversation while his carnal self was still making demands. His blood had barely cooled to a simmer. How easy it would have been to persuade her to give him her innocence. How complicated their lives would become afterward. But apparently another man also desired her.
Did this man have a conscience?
Was it any of James’s business?
He decided, wisely or not, that it was.
He realized that Ivy was staring at him, awaiting a reaction. “Why were you preoccupied?” he asked somberly, just to show he was paying attention.
She sighed. “I can’t tell you. It’s personal.”
“What?”
“It’s a family matter.”
“Are you saying that I’m good enough to dally with in the dark but not to entrust with a family secret?”
“Do you want to know what happened with Sir Oliver or not?” Ivy asked him in a mildly annoyed tone that reminded him she was an earl’s daughter.
“Yes. Go on. I want to know everything.”
“He apologized profusely for his reckless driving. I would have been content to leave it at that.”
“But he wasn’t?”
“Evidently not.”
“He’s a scoundrel. Take it from one who knows. You shouldn’t see him again.”
Ivy wriggled to the far end of the couch. “He asked me to marry him.”
James scowled. “All scoundrels propose in the heat of passion.”
“Do they?” she asked archly, her eyes widening at this helpful information. “I shall have to keep that in mind. However, in the interest of fairness, I should explain that what he attempted to do to me was nothing compared to what we just did.”
James nodded. “I see. It’s a good thing, too.”
“And no one has asked for my hand in five years.”
“That long?”
“Furthermore, as grateful as I am for this position, I must be truthful and confess that I am like any other woman who wishes for a husband and home of her own.”
He stood abruptly as she lifted herself from the couch, waving aside the hand he extended to help her. “Those are normal desires,” he said after a pause. “I don’t understand why they haven’t been fulfilled.”
“I’m not asking you for sympathy.”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t offering it. In my opinion the only reason your desires weren’t satisfied is because you were locked away in a manor with a moat of thorns to discourage callers.”
“My name was ruined.”
“Nonsense.”
She drew a breath. “I’ll say good night now, Your Grace. I’ll look in on Mary before I go to bed. Do we act as if this never happened?”