No Groom at the Inn by Megan Frampton

Author:Megan Frampton
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-11-09T18:30:00+00:00

Matutinal:

1. Of, relating to, or occurring in the morning.

2. Feeling nauseated.

3. An acrimonious parting.

CHAPTER TWELVE

He didn’t know what he had done, just that he had done something. Besides being kissed by her, that is.

He wanted to inquire more, but they had only a few moments between the library and the drawing room, and he didn’t want to get into a discussion where anybody could see them.

It worried him; he couldn’t tell what she was thinking now. Her face looked as though someone had drawn a curtain down, her usual lively expression dimmed.

They stepped back into the drawing room, her slightly ahead of him, his hand at the small of her back, just grazing the fabric of her gown with his knuckles. He wished they hadn’t ever left the library, that they were still there, kissing, or her teasing him about books and their laughing together.

“Jamie, you have been an age! What could you and Sophronia have gotten up to for so long?”

His mother didn’t mean to be shocking, of course; she never did. But all the same, most of the rest of the party smothered chuckles, except for Mrs. Green, who glowered.

She might be the most unpleasant woman he had ever met, but at least she was consistently unpleasant.

“As you are well aware, Mother, I am fascinating when I want to be.” He assisted Sophronia into a chair beside his mother. “And my betrothed finds me infinitely fascinating. Don’t you, Sophy?”

He grinned at her, hoping she would burst out laughing or say something cutting in response. But she merely lifted a brow and nodded, biting her lip. To stifle a laugh, or a rebuttal? And why was he feeling so torn up about what her reaction might possibly be?

“We were just discussing the plans for tomorrow,” the viscountess said. “Mrs. Green has suggested we make a game of finding a suitable tree for decorating. The team who finds the best tree has the honor of—well, what does the team have the honor of doing, Mrs. Green?”

The lady surveyed the house party with a considering air. “The winning team members will be allowed to stand under the mistletoe with the person of their choosing.”

Not bad, Mrs. Green, not bad at all. He would have to make sure he or Sophy won, just so he would have the privilege of kissing her in front of all these people.

Of staking his claim to her, even though they both knew—and only they knew—that the claim was a temporary one.

But meanwhile, he didn’t know if he could wait until tomorrow to kiss her again, now that he’d tasted the sweetness of her lips, and felt how she responded to him.

Actually, he did know if he could wait. And the answer was no, he couldn’t.

The knock came just after Maria had gone, leaving Sophronia in blissful anticipation of a comfortable book, a warm fire, and an hour before she thought she should try to be in bed.

Thankfully, Mrs. Green’s dictatorial ways extended to telling her guests

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