“Your Grace?”
He started.
Lady Pickering had returned, ostensibly to rescue her little lamb from her own shyness. “Did I mention that Glorianna has seven brothers and sisters? All younger.”
“Why no.” He took a sip of his champagne. “You did not.”
“She’s wonderful with them. Aren’t you, dear?”
Miss Pickering nodded.
“She so loves children. I do hope we will meet your girls while we are here. Do you suppose that can be arranged?”
“Most certainly.” Apparently this was good enough for Lady Pickering. She trundled her mute daughter off to the buffet table. Unfortunately, Louisa Mountbatten was right there—courtesy of Mother—to take her place. What followed was a wholly different kind of conversation. One where the woman was not shy in the least and Jonathan found himself unable to get a word in edgewise.
But, with the exception of the occasional grunt or nod, nothing much was required of him, so he let her monologue—about kittens and ribbons and some other such nonsense—trickle over him as he watched the knot in the corner grow.
Was that William Everton?
Bloody hell. Who had invited him? The man was an out and out rake.
He shot a glare at his mother. Unfortunately, she took it as a cue to switch out the damsels, bringing him Cecily Peck and taking away Louisa Mountbatten.
Cecily was an excellent foil to the others. She neither talked too little nor too much, but there was something slightly knowing in her eye. Something the younger girls did not possess.
“What a lovely party,” she said in a dulcet tone, sending him a teasing glance.
“My mother will be thrilled to hear it.”
“I love throwing parties,” she said on a sigh. “Such excitement. Fascinating people.” She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “Do you not enjoy…fascinating people?”
He was sure she was flirting with him, he just wasn’t sure if he cared. “Doesn’t everyone enjoy fascinating people?”
“I met Byron once at a party.”
“Really?” He’d met Byron at White’s, but he didn’t feel the need to mention it.
“You have the look of him.”
He nearly jumped out of his skin as she touched his arm. Stroked it. “Do I?”
“Mmm. Such beautiful brown eyes. And that curl on your forehead. I imagine the ladies swoon if you so much as smile at them.”
He smiled at her then. It wasn’t intended, it just happened. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had someone faint on me.”
She batted her lashes. “More’s the pity.”
“It seems to me it would be awkward,” he had to add. It would be, wouldn’t it?
“Perhaps. Depending on the company.” She laughed, a melodic tinkle. “I hear you have a lovely conservatory here in Sutton. Would you show it to me sometime?”
He nodded. “I would love to.”
“Excellent.” She glanced around the room and leaned in, whispering, “How about now?”
Egads.
He tried not to lurch back, but she was being way too forward for comfort. “Perhaps tomorrow? I do have other guests.” He bowed to her and then turned away, but not before he saw her serene expression curl into something of a snarl.
Glorianna Pickering? Louisa Mountbatten? Cecily Peck? Had Mother deliberately invited the flightiest, most irritating debutantes on the market? Clearly, she had.
He headed for his mother, thinking they needed to have a chat, but he caught a glimpse of Meg’s blue dress out of the corner of his eye. She was on Hisdick’s arm. They were leaving the room.
Alarms blared in his head, and he changed course to follow them.
Unfortunately, the party was a crush, so it took him a while to make it through the crowd and by then, the hallways was empty. With his pulse pounding, he rushed down the hall, madly opening doors.
Ah. He should have known they’d be in the library.
What he hadn’t expected, what he’d never imagined, was that he would find Meg in Hisdick’s arms.
“What on earth is going on here?” he bellowed, much louder than he’d intended.
They both whirled around, and to his ire, Meg laughed. “I wanted to show Richard Jane Austen’s first book and look.” She pointed up to where mistletoe dangled over their heads.
First of all—Richard? They’d just met. How were they already on a first-name basis?
Second of all, blast Mother and her mistletoe.
It was a struggle to batten down his rage. “Hisdick, I need to speak with Meg, if you don’t mind?”
For all his social flaws, Hisdick could take a hint. He nodded and exited the room, even closing the door in his wake.
Once he was gone, Jonathan needed a moment. A moment to control the raging beast within, perhaps.
“What is it, Jonathan?” Meg asked, coming closer and peering up at him like an innocent.
“What is it? What is it?” he sputtered.
“Yes.” He had no idea why she laughed. “Why did you send Hisdick away? We hadn’t even found the book yet.”
“Don’t you know?”
She stared at him. Blinked. “Know what?”
“How dangerous that is?”
“What?”
Honestly? Did she not know? He raked back his hair. “You can’t just leave a party with a man and go into a deserted room with him.”
“Why ever not?”
“You most certainly cannot kiss him.”
“But there was mistletoe.”
“That doesn’t change anything. You could have been compromised.”
“With Hisdick? What nonsense.”
“It’s not nonsense. Had Lady Jersey, hell, had anyone else come in and seen you kissing Hisdick, you would have been done for.”
Meg put her hands on her hips. Her eyes snapped fire. She was magnificent.
“I did not kiss Hisdick.”
“You were going to.”
“What nonsense.”
“There was mistletoe.” He pointed above his head.
She looked up, then shrugged. “It does not signify.”
“It most certainly does signify.” He had no idea why his anger was rising, but he did have a suspicion that it wasn’t anger at all. It was something more…feral. Something utterly mad.
Without thinking, he yanked her into his arms and took her mouth, covering her, smothering her, tasting that delicious nectar he’d been craving since last night. It was a wild kiss, a devouring kiss, one that shocked him to his core.
Because she kissed him back. Every sort of passion he felt, she gave back.
When it ended, there in the darkened room with no sounds but their ragged breathing, his world was changed.
He knew now, he could never let her go. Knew now that Meg was his.
He leaned back and gored her with a dark, dominant gaze. “I’ve thought about that all day. Wanted that all day,” he said.
She made a show of patting her hair to make sure it was all still in place.
“Well.” Surely his voice didn’t crack. “Don’t you have anything to say?”
“What-what could I say?”
He growled at her. “That you wanted it too.”
To his dismay, she turned away. “It was nice—”
“Nice?” A roar. Fury burned through him, and without thinking, he pulled her back into his arms and kissed her again, making sure, this time, it was a damn sight more than nice.
They were deep in it. Mouths melded, souls entwined, when the bark of a laugh came from the door. Horror trickled through him. What had he been thinking, kissing Meg like that, here? Surrounded by the mavens of the ton? He could have ruined her utterly. He whirled around and nearly collapsed in relief when it was just his sister.
“This is becoming something of a habit,” Susana said with a smirk.
“Well, really,” Meg said, once again patting her hair. It was clear she was breathless and there was a rosy tinge on her cheeks. Also, she would not meet his eye.
“What on earth are you thinking, Jonathan?” His sister strode in and tipped up Meg’s chin, checking her face for any evidence of savagery, perhaps.