Page 36 of To Steal a Kiss

That woke Nate up.

“Lay a hand on her and lose it,” he said succinctly, before guiding Alice into his office and closing the door.

His heart thudded, hope bursting in his chest no matter how hard he forced it down. Why was she here?

“Was there something I can do for you, Miss Dowding?” he asked, hating himself for sounding so polite and distant, but not daring anything more intimate. He wanted to pull her into his arms and never let go, but she had burned his pride enough for the time being.

The colour in her cheeks mounted.

“Miss D-Dowding,” she repeated, and he hated that stammer. Not because of the way it sounded, but because it meant she was unsure, nervous in his presence, but perhaps that was for the best. “I was Alice last night.”

“And I was the man whose proposal you rejected. So, Miss Dowding, how may I be of service?”

She stared at him and something in her eyes made him look away, unable to hold her gaze.

“I assume you came with some purpose in mind. If anyone saw you in a place like this—”

“I’d be ruined,” she said, speaking over him before he could finish. “I think that horse has bolted, don’t you?”

It was Nate’s turn to blush. His fault. It had been all his fault. He never ought to have taken her from the ballroom, he’d known it, but… but he’d been so full of hope, so eager to discover if this feeling bursting in his chest was filling her too.

“If you want my apology, you have it. I—”

“I don’t want your apology.” Her words were firm now, her gaze intent. Whatever had made her stammer and blush, it had gone now. Now she was in charge of herself—and him, if she only knew it.

“What then?” he asked, the words raw as he held his hands open to her. He knew how he looked. He’d not shaved, and his coat and waistcoat had long been discarded, along with his cravat. His shirt was rumpled, and he’d drunk too much and slept not at all. No doubt he looked like what he was: a reprobate, a good for nothing rascal, and now he’d no chance to be anything else.

“I spoke to Matilda,” she said, holding Nate’s gaze as his heart dropped to the floor.

Oh, God. No. Not that. Surely, his sister hadn’t betrayed his confidence. His pride was in the gutter already, surely she’d not humiliate him further by telling Alice—

Without realising it his breathing had picked up, the scald at his cheeks growing hotter.

“She said—”

Nate turned away as Alice spoke. He couldn’t look at her, not now.

“What did she say?” he demanded, the words vicious and angry. “That I was a bloody fool?”

There was a long silence, and then he started as Alice’s hand slipped into his. She curled her fingers about his. Despite his best intentions, he looked down at her, and was at once caught in eyes of such blue he felt he would drown.

“Nate, why did you propose to me?” She was staring up at him, her voice soft and intimate.

“Why do you think?” he said, gruff and ungentlemanly. Damned if he would lay his heart before her a second time. She’d ground her heel into it quite adequately enough the first time.

“I thought it was because you had to,” she said as her other hand joined the first, both clasped around his, the warmth of her gloved fingers sinking into his skin. “I thought it was because you had no choice. You blame yourself already for Matilda’s situation and you’re too honourable to allow her friend to be ruined too, when you could stop it. I thought you had no choice but to ask me.”

Nate frowned, turning to face her.

“You believed I didn’t wish to marry you?” he asked, too stunned by the idiocy of that idea not to sound sceptical.

“Of course,” she retorted. “No one else has ever wished to.”

“Bindley seems keen enough,” he said, his tone dark.

She snorted and gave him a fierce look. “He wants my money, not me.”

Nate felt jealousy rise in his chest. “That’s not all he wants, I assure you.”