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Heat suffused her cheeks. He had the decency to look abashed.
“I’m sorry to be so blunt. She doesn’t exactly hide her attempts.”
“You’re right, of course,” she managed. “Please continue.”
He nodded, once again warming to his subject. “We continue with our fake engagement, simultaneously blocking my mother’s plans, giving me time to concoct a different plan to save the dukedom, freeing you from your great-aunt’s machinations, and making certain a scandal does not break before your sister’s wedding. Then, when Lady Phoebe is safely wed, you can break off our engagement. I, heartbroken, will—hopefully—begin my travels. You can live your life as you wish, with everyone heaping praise on you for escaping a union with such a rake.”
Finally a laugh sputtered from her. “You, a rake? You are quite the most gentlemanly man I know.”
Which perhaps she should not have said, as it spoke too much of what was in her heart. But being the man he was, Quincy did not acknowledge her effusions beyond a grateful nod of the head and a slight darkening of his cheeks.
“I assure you,” he quipped, a teasing light in his eyes, “that I can be quite rakish and scandalous should I put my mind to it.”
At her dubious expression the kind, easygoing man she had come to know vanished. His eyelids lowered, transforming his previously amused expression to one filled with heat and promise. Even his body changed, his relaxed, loose-limbed posture taking on a hypnotic, predatory grace as he turned to face her, each movement charged with intent. As she watched, stunned, he took hold of one errant curl that had escaped her coiffure and hung down the side of her neck. His knuckles skimmed over the sensitive skin there, making her shiver, and a strange warmth settled between her legs.
“Oh,” she breathed, unable to look away from the inky depths of his gaze.
Then his eyes changed again, the practiced seduction replaced by vulnerability, as if curtains had been ripped aside to reveal what was hidden within. The longing in his gaze called to that place inside her that she kept locked up, where all her dreams and desires and passions had been sent to languish.
Mouth suddenly dry as dust, she licked her lips. His gaze snagged on the small movement, settled there. A look of intense hunger filled his face. She found herself swaying in her seat, her body seeming to react of its own accord, wanting his touch more than air to breathe…
In the space between one breath and the next he straightened away from her, a grin lifting his lips. “There, you see?”
She blinked, at once confused and relieved and hurt beyond bearing. Goodness, it had all been an act? She would have to be careful. Very careful indeed.
Forcing a smile to her lips, she surreptitiously shifted toward the far side of the settee, the better to put distance between them.
“Yes, I do see,” she said in a bright tone. “That was very convincing.”
He held out his hand. “Are we in agreement then? Shall we continue with this false engagement?”
It was the height of folly. The past seconds had proven that much, and no doubt his pull on her emotions, and on her body, would only worsen as time went on.
Yet she would be a fool to not see how it would directly benefit her. Not counting the fact that it would prevent a scandal, and thereby protect Phoebe’s future security and happiness—which was incentive enough—as well as prevent Aunt Olivia playing matchmaker for the duration of the wedding, but it would prevent all future matchmaking.
Why had she not seen it before? Either from the small scandal that would certainly come with a broken engagement, or from impassioned declarations that she’d suffered a broken heart and could never think of another, this would provide her with the excuse she needed to end her great-aunt’s attempts once and for all.
There was, of course, the danger to her heart to think about. But she had kept the dam up around it this long; surely she could withstand another month.
Dragging in a deep breath, excitement buzzing through her, she grasped his hand with her own. “Yes, we’re in agreement.”
His grin widened, and that damnable warmth started up in her chest again at the mere sight of it.
Just then a commotion could be heard from the front hall. Peter and Lenora were home.
His expression fell. “Ah, I’ve forgotten Peter. He’ll be furious.”
Clara bit her lip. Quincy was right; Peter would not be happy in the least. Though perhaps there was a way to lessen his anger? “Mayhap we should tell him the truth,” she said. “It might help to have an ally.” Especially after the entire thing ended and she was left to deal with Lady Tesh’s disappointment.
“Yes, that’s brilliant.” The troubled look eased some from his face, but the worry in his eyes did not abate.
Peter’s voice was louder now. Any moment he would enter the drawing room. Quincy dragged in a deep breath. “It’s time to face the dragon, I suppose.”
A small smile lifted her lips. “Shall I play squire and fetch your armor?”
He chuckled. “I rather think you’re the knight in this scenario, Clara.”
Chapter 7
