Which, somehow, made all of this worse. Dorothy could admit being at fault for the first kiss, and in her delight, she hadn’t realised what she was doing. She had been so excited to find a book she had been looking for ever since the release that Dorothy had forgotten her composure.
And she had been doing so well. Until they kissed. Dorothy was shocked that she wanted to keep kissing him, how she wanted him to put his hands on her bare skin. That had left her shaking when she came back to her senses.
They had been in states of undress and alone, moments after from going further than kissing. From the hardness pressing into her belly as Dashwood kissed her, Dorothy was under no illusion of how much he wanted her. She might have been innocent when it came to gentlemen, and she may not know how to handle one when they were getting acquainted with her, but she had heard stories from Frederica.
She hadn’t been wrong about a particular body part, certainly.
That wasn’t going to happen. Dashwood was a rake if Lady Marcia was right. He saw her as a toy to play with, another conquest for his list. Dorothy was not going to be another in a long line of women. Dashwood could do whatever he wanted, but it wouldn’t be with her.
She just hoped that she didn’t end up alone with him again. That was a bad idea. Maybe she should ask Frederica to stick close to her from now on. But then that would have Frederica questioning her about what was happening. Dorothy didn’t think she was quite ready to say something to her friend about this.
Especially with Lady Marcia’s words still fresh in her head. She could be right, and Dashwood was an undesirable rake, who she shouldn’t go anywhere near. But if she was lying and paving the way to make sure she had no competition for his heart, then Dorothy did not want to get involved in this mess.
She was almost leaning heavily on Frederica as they left her bedchamber and headed downstairs. Gabriel met her at the bottom of the stairs, looking fresh and alert in a silver-grey coat with white breeches that looked a little too bright for her liking. It was making Dorothy’s head hurt.
“Good morning, Dorothy,” Gabriel greeted her. He peered at her. “Are you alright? You’re not unwell, are you?”
“Good morning.” Dorothy covered a yawn with her hand. “I’m not unwell. I’m afraid I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“I see.” Gabriel arched an eyebrow. “Were you too busy reading that big book I saw you with last night?”
“Oh, of course, I wasn’t!” Dorothy realised she was speaking a little too briskly, and she sighed. “Forgive me, Gabriel. I’m not going to be the best company today.”
“It’s fine. I’m sure I can look after you.” Gabriel took her other arm and walked with her and Frederica to the dining room. “You can rely on me to look after the two of you while we go out today.”
Frederica laughed.
“You keep forgetting that Dorothy and I can look out for each other. We won’t need a chaperone.”
Gabriel pretended to look hurt.
“You don’t trust me to look after you.”
“How long have you known us? I seem to remember a time when you had to be rescued by Dorothy and myself. Something involving heights and a tree?”
“That’s not fair!” Gabriel protested. “I wasn’t feeling well and didn’t know what I was comfortable with.”
Dorothy giggled.
“We still had to get you out of the tree. If we had gone for the gardener, you would have got a scolding for climbing a tree you were told to leave alone.”
Gabriel pouted, and Dorothy squeezed his arm.
“I’m sure you can spend time with us. I don’t want to monopolise Frederica’s time while we’re out, so it would be nice to find someone else to bother.”
“You’re not a bother to me at all, Dorothy.” Gabriel patted her hand, his fingers lingering. “You’re never a bother.”
Then he slipped away and walked to his place at the end of the table, seated beside Lord Derbyshire. Frederica tugged Dorothy’s arm.
“I told you!” she whispered. “He’s sweet on you.”
“That doesn’t mean anything, Frederica. Stop looking for something that isn’t there.”
“Like I said, don’t be so sure. You should explore it, though. That would make the holiday here more interesting.”
She had a point, but Dorothy didn’t think she would want to do it. Then she felt someone’s eyes on her, and she knew she didn’t need to look to know who was looking at her. Turning her head, Dorothy’s eyes landed on the figure of Lucas Dashwood at the other end of the table, munching on toast as he openly stared at her. Lady Marcia was talking to him, but he didn’t seem to notice her. All his attention was on Dorothy.
And that left Dorothy trembling. Why did he have to be so intense? And why was there an aura around him that drew her in? This shouldn’t be happening. He was the last person she should be around.