“And you don’t seem to be objecting.”
“I’m not.” Her breath tickled his lips.
He hadn’t planned to kiss her, but he could no longer resist. It was a whisper of a kiss to begin with. Her hand slipped to his cheek. She didn’t pull back.
His heart pounded ever harder, and he kissed her again, this time with more fervor. She returned his kiss. His arm tucked her up to him, while her fingers seemed to memorize every line of his face and jaw.
Who was to say how long he might have gone on kissing her that way, holding her close, reveling in her soft, tender caress, if not for the sound of carriage wheels on the gravel outside?
Someone had arrived, and the spell was broken, leaving Scott with far more questions than he had answers.
Chapter Seventeen
Scott Sarvol had kissed her.Good heavens, how he’d kissed her!
Why?
And how could she convince him to do it again?
He had retreated to an appropriate distance once more. She told herself it was only because he had heard the arrival of a carriage just as she had. Surely it wasn’t because he had found kissing her to be repulsive. He certainly seemed to have been enjoying it while it had been happening.
Her father stepped into the sitting room.The butler, she reminded herself. Years of this and she still had to remind herself. He certainly never forgot.
“Visitors have arrived, Miss Phelps.” Something in his tone felt less frigid than usual. “Mr. and Mrs. Jonquil, Miss Mullins, Mr. Comstock, Mr. Seymour, and Mr. Kendrick.”
Oh dear.That was nearly the entire Brier Hill house party.
“We will receive them in the drawing room,” she said.
There was something almost kind in Mr. Walker’s bow. Almost. Then he turned around and made his way from the room, no doubt to help the staff assist the new arrivals.
“Is Mrs. Brownlow equal to visitors?” Scott asked her.
“I think so. Perhaps not all of them at once.” That wasn’t her only concern. She turned to face him. “You’ll have to tell the gentlemen that Mrs. Brownlow thinks they find me entirely fascinating.”
“Or tell Mrs. Brownlow that I wasn’t entirely truthful with her.”
Her heart sank at the frustration she saw in his expression. She’d pulled him into this bit of playacting even after he’d told her he was uncomfortable with it.
“I am sorry,” she said quietly. “My intentions were good. I wanted only for her to not worry.”
“I know.” He motioned for her to precede him from the room.
She did so, and then he caught up to her and walked at her side to the drawing room. A minute ago, he’d been kissing her rather wonderfully. Now he looked as if he’d rather be almost anywhere else but there with her.
“I really am sorry.” Her misery filled her tone, no matter that she would have rather kept it hidden.
“We’ll sort it out,” he said.
Mere moments later, the drawing room was abuzz. Everyone who’d been at Brier Hill, aside from Lisette, Mme Dupuis, and the O’Doyle sisters, poured inside. Why had they come to Houghton Manor?
Before she could so much as offer a word of greeting, Mr. Comstock spoke. “Scott, why are you still here?”
“Given the choice between inadvertently causing the death of a frail old woman or remaining at Houghton Manor longer than expected, I chose to linger.”
Amusement and confusion filled every face in the room. They then looked to Gillian, hopeful and curious.
She didn’t enjoy being the focus of attention, even less so when finding herself needing to confess to something embarrassing. “He—We told—” She closed her eyes a moment and took a deep, chest-filling breath. They would learn the truth one way or another. She would do best to simply explain quickly and endure any ridicule and disapproval that followed. “Mrs. Brownlow has worried about me these past years, fearing I would be alone all my life. Scott was kind enough to offer her the impression that—that I—”Explain quickly. It’s your best approach.“He told her, at my pleading, that I was the diamond of our house party and turned a few heads. It gave her hope that I might not be alone all my life, which gave her some peace as she was passing.”