But this brought him back toNine: He had no idea what to say, andTen: Something about this girl had turned him absolutely stupid.
Stupid.
How did the rest of humanity endure it, this awkward silence in the face of a woman? Sebastian found it intolerable.
“You asked me to kiss you,” he said. It wasn’t the first thing that came to mind, but it was the second.
From her gasp—which he suspected was large enough to change the tides—he had a feeling he should have waited for the seventh, at least.
“Are you accusing me of—” She cut herself off, her lips clamping together in an angry, frustrated line. “Well, whatever it is…that…you’re accusing me…” And then, just when he thought she’d given up, she finished with, “of.”
“I’m not accusing you of anything,” he said. “I’m merely pointing out that you wanted a kiss, and I obliged and…”
And what? Whatwas he pointing out? And where had his mind gone? He couldn’t think a complete sentence, much less speak one.
“I could have taken advantage of you,” he said stiffly. Good God, he sounded like a stick.
“Are you saying you didn’t?”
Could shepossibly be that innocent? He leaned down, his eyes boring into hers. “You have no idea how many ways Ididn’t take advantage of you,” he told her. “How many ways I could have done. How many—”
“What?” she snapped. “What?”
He held his tongue, or perhaps more accurately, bit the damned thing off. There was no way he was going to tell her how many ways he’dwanted to take advantage of her.
Her. Miss No Name.
It was better that way, certainly.
“Oh for the love of God,” he heard himself say. “What the devil is your name?”
“I can see that you’re most eager to know it,” she snipped.
“Yourname ,” he bit off.
“Before you tell me yours?”
He exhaled, a long frustrated whoosh of air, then raked his hand over his scalp. “Was it my imagination, or did we have a perfectly civil conversation not ten minutes earlier?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he didn’t let her. “No, no,” he continued, perhaps a little too grandly, “it was quite more than civil. I might even dare to call it pleasant.”
Her eyes softened, not to the point where he might have considered her malleable—oh very well, not evenclose to that, but they softened nonetheless.
“I shouldn’t have asked you to kiss me,” she said.
But he noticed that she did not apologize for it. And he noticed that he was very glad that she did not.
“Surely you understand,” she continued quietly, “that it is much more important that I learn your identity than the other way around.”
He looked down at her hands. They weren’t balled, or fisted, or frozen into claws. Hands always gave people away. They tensed, or they shook, or they clutched at each other as if they might—through some sort of impossible witchcraft—save themselves from whatever dark fate awaited them.
This girl was holding the fabric of her skirt. Tightly. She was nervous. Still, she was holding herself with remarkable dignity. And Sebastian knew that she spoke the truth. There was nothing she could do that would ruin him, while he, through one loose or false word, could destroy her forever. It was not the first time he’d been inordinately glad not to have been born female, but it was the first time he’d been presented with such clear proof that men truly did have it easier.
“My name is Sebastian Grey,” he said, dipping his head toward her in a respectful bow. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss—”
But he couldn’t possibly have gone on, because she gasped, then blanched, then looked positively ill.
“I assure you,” he said, not certain whether the sharp note in his voice was amusement or irritation, “that my reputation is not as black as that.”
“I shouldn’t be here with you,” she said frantically.
“That, we already knew.”
“Sebastian Grey. Oh dear God,Sebastian Grey .”
He watched with some interest. Some annoyance, too, but that was to be expected. Really, he wasn’t as
bad as allthat . “I assure you,” he said, starting to feel a bit put out by the number of times he was needing to begin his sentences in such a fashion, “I have no intention of allowing your reputation to be destroyed through your association with me.”
“No, of course not,” she said, then ruined the whole thing with a panicked burst of laughter. “You wouldn’t want to do that. Sebastian Grey.” She looked up at the sky, and he half expected her to shake her fist at the gods. “Sebastian Grey,” she said.Again .
“Do I take this to mean you’ve been warned about me?”
“Oh yes,” came her too-fast reply. And then she snapped back to attention, looking him directly in the eye. “I have to go. Now.”
“As you might recall I’ve been telling you,” he murmured.
She looked toward the side garden, grimacing at the thought of passing through a lovers’ lawn. “Head down,” she said to herself. “Barrel through.”
“Some live their entire lives by that motto,” he said cheerfully.
She looked at him sharply, clearly wondering if he’d gone mad in the last two seconds. He shrugged, unwilling to apologize. He was finally beginning to feel like himself again. He had every right to feel cheerful.
“Do you?” she asked.
“Absolutely not. I prefer life to have a bit more style. It’s all about the subtleties, don’t you think?”
She stared at him. Blinked a few times. Then said, “I should go.”
And she went. She put her head down and barreled through.
Without telling him her name.
Chapter Six
The following afternoon
You’re terribly quiet today,” Louisa said.
Annabel smiled weakly at her cousin. They were walking Louisa’s dog in Hyde Park, accompanied—theoretically—by Louisa’s aunt. But Lady Cosgrove had come across one of her many acquaintances, and while she was still in sight, she was no longer in earshot.
“I’m only tired,” Annabel said. “I had difficulty sleeping after all the excitement of the party.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but neither was it a lie. She’d lain awake for hours the night before, making elaborate studies of the insides of her eyelids.
She refused to stare at the ceiling. On principle. She’d always felt that way. In the quest for sleep, open eyes were a clear admission of defeat.
Still, no matter where she looked, it was impossible to escape the magnitude of what she’d done.
Sebastian Grey.
Sebastian Grey.
The words rang like a miserable moan in her head. On the list of men she ought not to be kissing, he had to rank at the top, along with the King, Lord Liverpool, and the chimney sweep.
And frankly, she suspected he was higher up the list than the chimney sweep.
She hadn’t known very much about Mr. Grey before the Trowbridge party, just that he was Lord Newbury’s heir, and the two men did not tolerate each other’s company. But once word had got out that Lord Newbury was pursuing her, everyone seemed to have something to tell her about the earl and his nephew.
Oh very well, not everyone, since most of society wasn’t the least bit interested in her, but everyoneshe knew had an opinion.
He was handsome. (The nephew, not the earl.)
He was a rogue. (Again, the nephew.)
He was probably penniless and spent a great deal of time with his cousins on the other side of his family. (Definitely the nephew, and in fact, it had better be the nephew, because if Annabel married Lord Newbury and he turned out to be penniless, she was going to belivid .)