Lady Scandal by Marcy Stewart

Author:Marcy Stewart [Stewart, Marcy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 2018-03-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Clouds were darkening the sky when the travelers arrived at the inn. As the couples disembarked from the vehicles and gathered on the sidewalk, Bryce again begged their pardon for his brother's behavior. He offered to send refreshment to their rooms, but all declined since dinner was so near. After exchanging a few private words with Camille, he marched off with his sister on his arm, both promising retribution to their remaining sibling. Lucy hardly glanced at Max as she flounced away.

Roderick expressed his intention to escort the ladies to their rooms, and Max set off to the stables to assure the welfare of his new bay. After an appropriate interval, the baronet entered the inn, went to the Devanes’ suite and knocked softly. Gwendolyn looked tired when she admitted him to the parlor, and he did not accept her offer to sit but stood near the door. Camille could be heard moving in her bedroom.

“You have come to set a time for our journey to Halleydale, I imagine,” Gwendolyn said.

“That, and to ask how you got on with Roderick today. You looked uncomfortable.”

Turning aside, she laughed lightly. “I believe we were all uncomfortable.”

For a moment, he scrutinized her averted face, then touched her chin with his forefinger, gently guiding her to look at him. She stepped back warily, and his arm fell.

“That’s not what I meant. I’m talking about before that unfortunate meal. The two of you were hardly speaking. Did he do anything, or say something, to offend you?”

“No, no, of course not.” She blinked rapidly. “I’ve been a little out of sorts today; perhaps that’s what you noticed.” Again she shifted slightly away, her fingers moving restlessly against the material of her gown.

“Gwendolyn.” He grasped her shoulders and peered into her eyes. “You are a terrible liar. What really happened? You didn’t try to find out about the formula again, did you, and he became rude? I told you not to do that.”

Her expression became resolute. “I know what you said, Max. Nothing happened, I tell you.”

After the space of several heartbeats, he released her. “Very well, then; I’ll ask Roderick.”

“No.” She pressed a hand to her heart, then attempted to smile apologetically. “I mean, how ridiculous you will seem, quizzing him about whether he has said something to me or not. There is no reason for you to act in this—this protective manner.”

“Isn’t there?” He could not restrain himself from moving closer. How he ached to crush her to him, to bury his fingers in her hair, to taste her lips. He wanted this woman more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. He longed to shield her from all danger and harm, to draw her against his chest and never let go. But her anxious brown eyes stayed him, and he must content himself with only a light touch to her arm, a gesture she could interpret any way she wished; as comfort, as encouragement, or passion delayed.

He was moving from admiration to love.

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