Chapter 9 #2
“If my brother had still been around, he would never have allowed me to become engaged to a stranger,” she said, tilting her head to look up at him.
“He would have given me the chance to choose my own path. My father does not know how that feels. He sees me as something else he owns, and that he would rather give away.”
Maxwell raised a hand, brushing his fingertips down her cheek. “I’m sorry.”
“I miss Adrian more than I can say.” She placed a hand on her heart, and he felt her pain as though it were his own.
In a way, it was. His grief mirrored hers. Older, but no less strong for it. He missed Christopher just as much as she missed her brother. Both of their lives would look different if their respective brothers had not passed away.
The difference was, for better or worse, her brother had died in the war, defending his country.
Christopher had ridden off a cliff because he could not bear the life he had been given.
“You deserve better than a father who sees you as property,” he said, unable to stop himself from taking her hand and pressing it against his lips. “And I’m sorry your brother couldn’t protect you.”
Her breath hitched as his mouth skimmed her gloved knuckles. But even though he waited for it, she didn’t pull away.
“That’s all right,” she said, her voice thin and breathy. “It merely meant I learned to protect myself.”
Like she had when she had come to him asking to be released from their engagement.
Like she had when she went to the club alone, doing whatever business she saw fit to do there.
He felt the sudden, unsettling need to be the one to protect her, so she would not put herself in dangerous situations all under the name of independence.
A woman could have independence without endangering herself; he had no desire to stop her from doing the things she wanted to do, but he did wish that she would not risk getting hurt by doing so.
The urge to protect and defend and make him startled him so much that he stepped back.
There might have been more to learn about Lady Thalia and her situation than he had known—and more reasons for her to defy her father—but he did not need distraction.
The only reason he had returned to London was so he could see Lydia through a Season, find her a suitable husband, and secure her future.
That was all. Lady Thalia was nothing but a distraction, and a poorly timed one. Even if she had been amenable to marrying, and he knew better than to think that, she had made it clear she had no intention of marrying him.
“I should return to the house,” he said, hearing the gruffness in his voice. Desire was one thing—he could conquer desire. But anything softer within him would have to be snuffed out immediately. “We can’t be gone too long.”
For a long moment, she merely looked at him, and he wondered if she would refuse.
Wondered, in a burst of madness, if she would take hold of him and pull him further into the shadows.
His body came alive at the thought, and even as he attempted to quell the image, his mind provided him with examples of what that might be like.
Her soft body pressed against his. Her hungry mouth. The last time, she had been ravenous, a creature of heat and passion that had made him nearly mad with desire. He would have taken her there and then if she had not pulled away and he had not recovered his mind.
Logic. He had to remain logical. If something were to happen between them here, he would then have to marry her, and that would ruin all his plans, and likely hers, too.
Still, part of him, the part ruled by his cock, hoped she would throw caution to the wind.
Of course, she didn’t. She merely laughed lightly and said, “Of course, Your Grace. Let us be very good and proper and return to the party and pretend nothing has ever occurred between us.”
“And what,” he said in a low voice as he led her out of the shadow and into the light, “would you say occurred between us?”
“Today? Nothing of note.”
“And before?”
Her fingers tightened against his bicep, and by God, he wanted her. “Nothing of note,” she said again, and he could have laughed.
“Liar.” They reached the side door, and he paused, taking her hand and bowing over it with as much icy grace as he could muster. “Until next time, my lady.”
Liar.
The word singed Thalia’s skin as she watched the Duke stride away through the crowd, his back stiff and straight and his demeanor so cold it would have given an icicle a run for its money.
How dare he take her outside as though he might ravish her, then claim that to better protect her reputation, he must return her to the party? She had been so certain he would kiss her, and worse, she had wanted him to.
Anna was right. How galling.
How dare he be so delectable? And so wounded. He boxed because he wanted an escape. He sought moments when he didn’t have to be the Duke. In the boxing ring, he was just a man, and as someone else who had lost someone close to her, she understood the appeal.
They were more alike than she had ever given them credit for being.
Once again, Anna was right. He was better than she had imagined, and there was something between them. Even though he had failed to kiss her, she knew he wanted to. Admittedly, she had not had an enormous amount of practical experience with men, but she did know when a man wanted to kiss her.
Irritated with him for making her feel like this, irritated that he hadn’t taken advantage of their time alone, and annoyed with herself for caring, she re-entered the soiree, only to encounter her father.
“Ah, there you are,” he said briskly, though with an expression that suggested she would be punished for her absence. “I have someone to introduce to you.”
Thalia bit back the urge to groan. Sooner or later, one of her father’s cronies would propose, and she would either accept and be miserable or refuse and face her father’s wrath.
Neither option was good, but the only alternative would be to marry someone else, and she could think of no one who would suit her.
Her mind drifted again to the way the Duke had defended her honor to Lord Vauron, making it clear that Thalia would not be marrying him—and how Vauron had immediately backed away.
Then she did her best to put that from her mind. The Duke would hardly be her defender if she asked him to, and besides, she liked her independence.
She would simply have to deter this latest gentleman the only way she knew how: by boring him.
To that end, she bared her teeth in a slightly manic smile.
“Good evening!” she said brightly. “I hope you are as eager to talk about duck husbandry as I am!”