Page 51 of The Lady’s Deception

Instead he shook his head in disbelief, refusing to let himself look toward her, fearful that at the sight of her, he might not be able to stop himself. Surely, he could come up with some explanation for what had transpired? After all, he was reputed to be skilled at argument, able to mount a cogent defense.

“That sounds like quite some dream, Daph,” he said quickly, and laughed.

“Dream?” The word burst from her, propelled by outrage. “It wasn’t a—”

He held up a hand. “Look, now. I can’t say where Miss Gorse slept. I certainly wouldn’t blame her if she found the prospect of sharing that bed less than inviting, what with Bell’s cold feet and your snoring.”

Bell attempted unsuccessfully to muffle her giggle. Daphne turned red. “Paris! I don’t—”

“I can assure you, however, that I was in the pub all night, playing piquet with the captain of the Claremont. He took me for five shillings.”

Thankfully, he was in no position to have the truth of this story denied. He had definitely gambled last night. And he had, in fact, given the captain five shillings, along with the letter he’d been struggling since dawn to write.

Daphne blushed a deeper red, the shade of humiliation, and dropped her gaze to the floor. Guilt chilled him. He reached out a hand and laid it on Daphne’s knee. “Let’s forget about it, shall we?” Still, he did not look at Rosamund. “No damage done.”

He hoped.

The girls, however, were not inclined to forget. “Don’t you want to get married, Miss Gorse?” Bell asked, not five minutes later.

Beside him, Rosamund shifted uncomfortably and cleared her throat. “Why, er…yes,” she answered after a moment. “I would quite like a home and a family of my own someday.” Was that a note of longing in her voice? Hadn’t she seen how much trouble family could cause?

“Don’t you have any brothers or sisters?” Daphne asked, aghast.

“I have one brother, considerably my elder.”

“Like Paris, then.”

“My brother and I are separated by about the same number of years as you and your brother, yes,” Rosamund agreed. “But I believe they are quite unalike in other respects.”

Was it true, however? Everything she’d told him last night indicated that her brother was controlling and manipulative. Was he any better? The deception being perpetrated on his sisters was entirely his doing. Every bit of it, from Miss Gorse’s installation as governess in their household to the present awkward conversation. Further proof his siblings ought never to trust him to do the responsible thing.

“Well, cheer up, Miss Gorse,” said Daphne. “If our sister Erica could find not one, but two gentlemen willing to marry her, you shouldn’t lack for offers.”

“Girls,” he warned. He wished it were possible to release Eileen again to distract his sisters. But of course the cat was already out of the basket.

As he spoke Rosamund tugged the ribbons of her bonnet away from Eileen’s eager claws and straightened the loops of blue silk into a neat bow beneath one ear. At this angle, he could not tell whether the ribbon matched her eyes, as he’d hoped when he chose it.

“After all,” continued Bell, undaunted, “you’re very pretty.” He could not prevent the rough grunt of agreement that rose in his throat. “And not quite on the shelf.”

Rosamund only laughed.

He prayed that would be the end of it. Bell, however, still wasn’t ready to give up. “You could marry Paris even if you don’t have to,” she suggested. “He can be quite charming when he chooses.”

“Bell!” he scolded.

“But alas,” Daphne added, rolling her eyes and sending a glance of commiseration toward Rosamund, “he does not often choose.”

“Why, thank you, dear sister.” He let himself slump and scowled a bit. “I’m sadly outnumbered here. Perhaps I’ll just sit with the driver instead.”

“Oh, Paris, don’t be silly.” Bell giggled. “It’s starting to rain.”

“I’d still be better off. How’s a fellow to defend himself when it’s three—no, four—against one?” Eileen, having been denied the amusement of Rosamund’s ribbons, was now attempting to make herself a comfortable nest right below his breastbone. She had evidently forgiven him for thwarting her conquest. Her tiny paws kneaded and plucked, snagging his silk waistcoat.

Rosamund turned just enough that she could fix him with a steady gaze. No, the bonnet’s ribbon didn’t match her eyes. Nothing could match that extraordinary shade of blue. “Do you account me among your attackers, Mr. Burke?”

She was sitting ramrod straight, and he found something about her posture unexpectedly alluring. Perhaps it was the recent confirmation of the softness that hid beneath its rigidity, the teasing notes that lurked within her sternest voice. He found himself wishing he might have the opportunity to change her mind about the efficacy of a good tongue-lashing.

Displacing the kitten, he reached across to take up Rosamund’s hand and was rewarded by a gasp that was not all disapproval. “Perhaps you’re right, Bell,” he said, darting a glance toward his sister before focusing on Rosamund’s delicate features. “Perhaps I ought to propose, just to teach our Miss Gorse a lesson.”