Page 64 of To Wager with Love

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“A love match, it appears.”

Matilda’s heart leapt to her throat at the sound of the familiar voice so close behind her.

She forced herself not to turn, not to react. “It is certainly that, my lord.”

She continued to watch Jasper and Harriet dancing together, their happiness so obvious it radiated from them across the ballroom. It was not them that held her attention now, though. Matilda could feel Montagu standing at her back, feel the heat of him standing just a little too close. If she closed her eyes, she might be able to detect the scent of him, too, that intriguing combination of bergamot and clean male skin, the faint trace of leather and horses… though perhaps it would be different tonight, as he would have arrived by carriage. The urge to lean in and sniff him was so outrageous that she almost smiled.

“How strange,” he mused. “When everyone has believed she hated him, and he thought her a prim little bookworm.”

“Appearances can be deceptive.”

Her tone was wry, and she wondered if he smiled or felt the slightest bit guilty for all the slander attached to her name because of him. Though she wanted to turn around and study his face, Matilda continued to watch Harriet and Jasper, trying hard to appear indifferent to his proximity.

“So it appears, as they were caught in somewhat, er… delicate circumstances.”

Matilda turned then, to look into the cool silver eyes that haunted so much of her time. A faint smile touched the corners of his mouth, softening the austere lines of his face not a whit. His hair shone like gilt beneath the candlelight, the harsh black and white of his formal evening attire only highlighting his extraordinary colouring.

“They have always loved each other. There was only misunderstanding and a lack of communication between them. If only they had talked together, if they had only been honest, things could have been resolved a long time ago.”

He nodded at her words, surprising her. She’d assumed he’d make some cutting comment but he seemed to agree. “Honesty is to be prized above all things.”

Matilda watched him closely for a moment. “You believe that.”

“I do,” he said, his gaze on her intent. “But sometimes it is a luxury one cannot afford to indulge.”

Matilda gave a humourless snort. “That is not true,” she said “As I remember the falsehoods you uttered to get me to Green Park with you. No, indeed, it sounds like the sort of thing a marquess would say to make himself feel better for lying through his teeth.”

“I never lie,” he said, his voice cold, clipped, and rather angry. “And that is a case in point. You knew my words were untrue as well as I did. I was simply managing the situation to my advantage and you knew it. I have always been honest with you.”

“Too honest, my lord,” she returned with a tight smile, wishing he’d leave her now.

Speaking with him was like dancing around a blade: sooner or later you’d misstep and find yourself cut to ribbons.

He moved closer, too close, his breath warm against her neck as his stark words shivered over her. “I want you very badly, Miss Hunt. I spend far too much time thinking of you, of how it would feel to take you in my arms. How is that for honesty?”

Matilda held herself still, refusing to show any reaction, though his words had set her blood alight, her nerve endings fizzing like tiny fireworks beneath her skin.

“I know,” she replied, proud of herself for the coolness of her reply, for the fact her voice hadn’t trembled when the rest of her was doing just that.

His fingers slid around her wrist, gentle yet firm, and her pulse thundered beneath his touch, his skin burning against hers as if he’d set a brand to her flesh.

“Have you accepted Mr Burton yet?”

The question caught her off-guard and she flushed before she had time to gather herself. His touch had scattered her wits and sent her heart thrashing in her chest like a wild thing.

“No.”

“Why not?” he asked. “He’s wealthy and handsome; he offers you everything you want, does he not?”

“Oh, and do you expect me to believe you remember what I want, let alone that you give a damn?” Matilda asked, wishing she had the strength to pull away from his grasp.

Instead, she turned away from his piercing gaze. Anger and frustration at the force of her reaction to him made her brittle. She stared around, wondering if anyone was watching their exchange, but all eyes were still on Harriet and Jasper.

“A home, children, and marriage to a man who loves and honours you.”

Matilda felt her breath catch as he recited the words she’d spoken back to her with precision.