Her heartbeat quickened with concern. Gillian switched Jessica to her other arm so the girl could be maneuvered away from the man until his features became clearer. Jessica’s first kiss would not be a mistake that might lead to an unwanted connection. This lurking stranger might be too interested in the size of Jessica’s dowry rather than the girl herself.
Gillian discreetly peeked around as she remembered there was another way to get Jessica to the guests, a somewhat roundabout detour through the east wing and then down via the servants’ stairs.
Making a snap decision, she jerked Jessica about—but walked straight into the hard body of a large gentleman.
She was caught, hauled close, and held tight against a very fine wool cloth coat. His scent was achingly familiar, and her body responded with unexpected pleasure. Gasping from the shock, Gillian glanced up into her employer’s face, stunned that, even with the extra layers required for this drafty house, she could feel so much when he touched her.
Too much.
Stapleton frowned. “My apologies, Mrs. Thorpe. I should have been more careful.”
He let her go slowly, making sure she was steady on her feet. Gillian darted a quick glance toward the shadows, but the lurking gentleman had fled. “It is entirely my fault, your grace. I should have been expecting you.”
His brow lifted at her remark, a sight that made her insides quiver. He often held back his words, but his facial expressions fascinated her. She often watched him when she should be minding her own business, or Jessica’s.
“I was wondering where you’d got to.” He cleared his throat. “Both of you.”
“A hem needed stitching.” Gillian sighed as she fibbed about the reason for their absence. Informing the duke his daughter was trying to avoid the guests again would not make him happy.
“Oh, look,” Jessica exclaimed suddenly. “You are both standing under mistletoe.”
Gillian glanced up and stared in consternation at a second bunch that she had not noticed.
Lord Stapleton growled. “If I ever catch who keeps hanging this stuff about the place, I might just wring their bloody neck.”
He yanked the offending greenery down, staring at it as if he might find the answers in the foliage.
“You have to kiss Mrs. Thorpe now, Papa,” Jessica warned with a laugh.
“Jessica!” Gillian whispered in horror as she took a step back from the duke. Had nothing they’d spoken about earlier gotten through that girl’s thick skull? She couldn’t kiss the man who employed her. It was Jessica who needed to be romanced, not her father.
“I’m sure you’d like him to.”
Silence descended, and for a moment, Jessica appeared stricken. She winced.
“I was sure I said that in my head,” the girl whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
The duke took a pace back, and the look on his face spoke volumes for his disgust at the idea of kissing a companion. Of kissing Gillian, in particular.
Properly embarrassed, Gillian caught Jessica’s elbow firmly and drew her down the stairs, hiding a sensation of crushing disappointment as best she could behind familiar tasks. “Come along Jessica, your sister will be wondering where you are.”
Chapter 3
Nicolas stared after Mrs. Thorpe in utter shock. The idea of kissing him had surprised the widow, but that look on her face, acute disappointment, set his pulse soaring. However, he should not be kissing, or thinking of kissing, a woman who depended on him for her livelihood. He hoped she had missed his consideration of the idea.
“I must say, that was poorly done,” Gideon Whitfield murmured as he stepped out of the shadows of the library.
Nicolas spun about, feeling guilty without having reason. “What?”
“You should have kissed her while you had the chance.” Whitfield plucked the mistletoe from Nicolas’ hand. “Might have been the only way to begin.”
Nicolas clenched his jaw. “I am not interested in kissing.”
“Liar.” A fevered light glinted in Whitfield’s eyes. “I’ve been watching you tiptoe around the woman for months. A good shag is just what you need. Admit it, you want her.”
Disturbed by Whitfield’s perception, Nicolas shook his head vigorously. If he did, he didn’t mean to. “Don’t be ridiculous. What are you doing lurking out here? I thought you had already gone home.”
“A ruse.” He pursed his lips, and then studied the clump of mistletoe. “I was trying to help a friend determine who is hanging mistletoe about the place. This is the fourth bunch I’ve seen today.”