Page 61 of To Steal a Kiss

“Oh!” she said, quite unable to hide her annoyance and irritated by the way her heart pounded. “Why must you forever be turning up like a bad penny?”

He closed the door behind him, his expression as rigid and unchanging as ever. The man might as well have been cut from marble.

“A sovereign, surely?” he said, his voice dripping condescension.

Matilda snorted. “Oh, naturally,” she said, her lip curling a little with disdain before moving to hurry past him. He made no attempt to stop her and her fingers grasped the doorknob before she realised she had to say something.

“Damnation,” she muttered.

“Cursing now? How unladylike,” he observed, as she turned back to find those strange grey eyes watching her with a glimmer of amusement. She shivered under their scrutiny. They were too pale, almost silver and rimmed with black; they made him seem less than human.

“Well, thanks to you, I’m no lady,” she said, with fire fuelling her irritation, facing him and feeling the strangest thrill of exhilaration as she did so. Try as he might, this man could not crush her. Even her fear of him seemed to be diminishing with each encounter, though she did not know what it was she did feel. “Though, unlike some, I have not forgotten my manners. I must thank you, it seems, though the realisation sticks in my throat,” she said frankly.

He watched her, neither confirming nor denying her statement.

“And therefore, you curse,” he said, his head tilting to one side a little. “You do not enjoy being in my debt?”

“An understatement, I assure you,” she said, allowing a tight smile to reach her lips. She wanted to rattle at the bars of his exquisite self-control. He was always so immaculate, so self-possessed. He made her feel reckless, out of control, as if he was a perfect sheet of white paper and she was a lit match, charring his pristine edges. She wanted to set a fire beneath that cool exterior and watch him burn.

The marquess’s eyes fell to her mouth and rested there and all at once he was the match and she felt the lick of flame. She was suddenly too aware of him, of his proximity. Despite her hatred for the man, there was no denying his beauty, although it was dangerous to behold, cold and pitiless like an endless expanse of snow and ice, or the gleam on a blade you never saw coming.

“Thank you for what you did for Miss Dowding,” she said in a rush, needing this to be over, to be out of his company at once. “I don’t know why you helped her—for a second time, indeed—unless perhaps you do have a shred of common decency in that icy soul of yours but, whatever the reason, I’m grateful.”

He watched her a moment longer, utterly still, unnervingly so.

“I regret to disillusion you, but there is no shred of decency. You know better than that,” he said, his voice as quiet and even as always. Emotionless. “You know much better than that,” he added, his gaze returning briefly to her mouth. “Well enough to understand my motivation, my pleasure in having you in my debt. Dissembling does not suit you. Between us, there should always be honesty.” His gaze lingered on hers for a long moment. “Good evening, Miss Hunt.”

Matilda caught her breath, the strangest sensation running over her as he turned and walked away from her without a backwards glance.

“Devil,” she whispered, discovering she was trembling as she turned back to the door and hurried away.

Chapter 18

Matilda! What news! I’m ready to burst with it, aren’t you?

―Excerpt of a letter from her grace, Prunella Adolphus, Duchess of Bedwin to Miss Matilda Hunt.

28th June 1814. The Duke and Duchess of Bedwin’s Ball, Beverwyck, London.

Nate glowered over the ballroom and crossed his arms. Alice was dancing again. What the hell happened to her being a wallflower?

He felt like a small boy who’d discovered buried treasure just at the moment the bigger boys had arrived to shove him out of the way. Stop being an ass, he muttered, trying to school his features into something less murderous. She would marry him tomorrow, and then, tomorrow night….

He let out an uneven breath.

It was ridiculous that a man of his years and experience should be such a nervous wreck, but it was nonetheless true.

When he’d seen Alice tonight, his chest had constricted, his throat had grown tight, and such a rush of emotion had assailed him he’d not known what to do or say, certainly not without giving himself away. He’d seen nothing so glorious in all his life. Her hair was a cascade of fiery curls and the dress glowed like embers on a winter’s night. She lit up the room like a flame, stealing the air from the room, from his lungs and scorching him, branding his flesh, even though he not even touched her. God, he longed to touch her.

“Put your tongue away Hunt, for heaven’s sake.”

Nate started as the duke sauntered up to stand beside him.

“Bedwin,” he said, noncommittal, wondering if the man knew who he’d been watching.

“I hear congratulations are in order.”

Nate’s head snapped around at that, terror at the idea that someone had discovered them making his heart beat fast.