Clem had to agree. The last thing she needed to think about was passion. After all, she’d experienced it in droves since spending time with Roman. Given the set of his jaw and the tightness in his shoulders, it was hard to believe the man capable of literally sweeping her off her feet, but she’d witnessed hidden depths and, blast it all, she wanted to witness them again.
“Talking of passion...” her sister continued, her attention fixed upon Roman, making Clem want to lift her napkin and hide behind it. She stretched out her foot and gave her sister’s shin as sharp a kick as she could manage in soft shoes.
Sir Marmaduke jolted suddenly in his chair and lifted the tablecloth to peer underneath, then met her gaze with an amused expression. Warmth spread up Clem’s neck and into her cheeks. She guessed kicking her sister was out of the question if she could not figure out whose leg was whose. She’d end up kicking half the party before reaching Violet’s legs.
Sorry,she mouthed.
Sir Marmaduke gave a shrug. Clem rather liked the man. He was a little too charming but did not seem to care for the rules of Society any more than her family did. Of course, the man was far too rakish, but Clem didn’t worry for Violet being seated next to him. Her sister could more than handle herself. If she needed to worry for anyone, it would have been sweet Ivy, but her sister had done her best to avoid speaking with him at the talk a few weeks ago, seemingly despite his best efforts.
“I had heard there were rumors she would be connected to your family soon, Lord Rochdale,” Violet continued.
Clem blinked and looked to her sister. Rumors? Family connections? What had she just missed?
Roman shifted in his seat. “I was not aware Miss Fisher was in Bath.”
She couldn’t help stare at him. Who was this Miss Fisher? And how was she to be connected with Roman? He had no eligible brothers and she supposed there were a few cousins somewhere but that would not explain why he was so uncomfortable.
She looked back at her sister who eyed her with one lifted brow.See?her expression said,he’s still a terrible man.
Tightness gathered in Clem’s chest. It hurt to inhale. She knew of this Miss Fisher—she had been much written about since her debut last year—and why Roman might be interested in her. She was fair and beautiful and highly accomplished with lovely manners. Not a single spec of scandal clung to her. Everything Clem was not.
And perfect for Roman.
∞∞∞
If Lady Violet Musgrave was trying to scare Roman off, she need not bother. He’d stayed away from Clementine for an entire week thanks to the passion between them that he could not seem to control. Not that it had been easy. He swore crawling his way through his studies at Eton with Duke’s help was easier. Simply because he wasn’t with her did not mean he ceased thinking of her.
That also meant Miss Fisher had barely entered his mind. As far he knew, they were to meet in London, but he should have been there two weeks ago now. It seemed either Miss Fisher or her father had tired of waiting for him.
He noted the change in Clementine’s posture, the way she subtly shifted away from him, and could not blame her. No promises had been made to either woman—in fact he was not certain Miss Fisher even knew of what he and her father were planning—but that did not make what he’d done correct. Mr. Fisher made it clear his daughter would find their match more than acceptable and Roman was certain once he spoke with her and explained how they could benefit one another, she would agree.
No woman wished for a husband who wanted to kiss another woman, though.
Roman gave Duke a grateful smile as his friend steered the topic of conversation away from Miss Fisher and to themost excellentsoup they were being served.
Roman could not say if it was excellent or not. With Clementine next to him, everything tasted no more exciting than the pump room water. How could it when he knew what her mouth tasted like? The need to sample her again lingered in his chest, lodged there like a shrapnel wound. He swore he felt it at random times of the day, slowly sapping his life away. The only thing that would save him would be another kiss.
And that could not happen. No matter how many aunts seated them next to each other, no matter how many dinners Duke invited them to. He might not want Clementine as his wife, but he certainly did not wish to hurt or dishonor her either. Even if she agreed with him that they must not kiss again, he wasn’t an idiot—he’d hurt her by kissing her whilst knowing of his intentions toward Miss Fisher.
Damn it. He was no better than his ancestors. He needed to control himself.
“I am sorry your aunt seated us next to each other, Musgrave,” he murmured to Clementine. “I know you would prefer to be elsewhere.”
“My aunt thinks she knows what is best for me,” Clementine replied, not looking at him. “She has a romantic soul but her efforts are wasted.”
The cold words dug that shrapnel just a little deeper. Roman had no place in his life for romance so why did he care?
“Yes,” he agreed.
“Once I find this letter, we need never talk to each other again anyway.”
He swallowed hard. “Of course.”
She twisted to eye him, her jaw set. “I shall find it very soon.”
“I have no doubt.” He set his spoon down in the bowl, having barely touched his soup. “I have to thank you for not mentioning the contents to your family. The sooner that letter is destroyed the better.”
“I am not a completely indiscreet fool, you know.” Clementine grabbed her spoon so aggressively, several splotches of green pea soup dropped onto the pristine white tablecloth. She paused, spoon halfway to her mouth. “You cannot wish to destroy such history surely? The letter must be hundreds of years old now.”