As the Devil Dares (Capturing the Carlisles #3)(106)

“Now—” Her voice choked with panic and mortification. “I need to go now.”

“Stay,” he commanded with that regal air all three brothers had inherited in varying degrees from their father and which Sebastian as the current Duke of Trent owned in spades.

She stilled at the edge of the bed, silent in her humiliation.

“You expected Robert to come to his room and find you lying in his bed, dressed like that.” His blue eyes flashed with incredulity. “Are you and he…” At least he had the decency to look away as he stumbled over the accusation. “Intimate?”

“No!” She blinked back the stinging tears. Her humiliation had reached new heights now, never mind the fact that intimacy with Robert was exactly what she’d hoped for tonight.

“Then why were you waiting in bed for him?” he pressed.

With a groan, she hung her head in her hands. All she’d wanted was a simple seduction, but her dream had become a nightmare. “Oh, what does it matter?”

He arched a brow. “Because he’s my brother, and I care about him.” His voice softened. “And about you.”

Ha! She didn’t believe that for a second. The oldest of the three Carlisle brothers, Sebastian was the one she knew the least well yet the one who had annoyed her the most, probably because he was a decade older than she was and impatient with the games she and his siblings had played. He’d been fifteen when she arrived at Islingham, already enrolled at Eton and so away most of the time. Even on those rare visits home on holiday, he’d been too interested in spending time with his father and learning about the estate to be anything more than distantly friendly to her. By the time he’d reached university, he was more concerned with chasing women and having a good time with his brothers carrying out whatever wild scheme they could concoct than whatever was happening in Islingham. And the wilder, the better.

Until Richard Carlisle became a duke. Then the rowdy, unmanageable brothers became more serious, especially Sebastian, who as the heir had always felt the weight of the responsibilities he would someday bear. He’d paid her scant attention before; now that he was the duke, he barely noticed that she existed at all.

“Miranda,” he sighed patiently, “I can’t think of any good reason why you’d be in Robert’s bed.”

She grimaced. “No, of course not—I mean— Oh, blast it!”

She didn’t care that she’d cursed in front of him, especially since the Carlisle brothers were the ones who taught her to swear when she was a child. Especially since Sebastian would never have seen her as a demure, polite society lady in the first place. And especially since she knew he wouldn’t care that she’d made such a muddle of things tonight.

But she also knew that he fiercely protected his family and that he wouldn’t let her leave until she explained what she’d planned for his brother.

So she grimaced in defeat and admitted softly, “Robert’s going to offer for her, I know it.”

“Who?” he puzzled.

“Diana Morgan.” Her eyes blurred with a hot mix of anger and humiliation, and her shoulders sagged beneath the weight of it. “General Morgan’s daughter. He invited her to the house party, and he’s going to court her this season in London.”

“What does that have to do with— Oh.”

“Yes.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh. Tonight was my last chance to be noticed by him as someone other than a friend. So I wore this costume.” She gave a hopeless wave of her hand to indicate the dress that now crumpled with wrinkles from him lying on top of her. Good heavens, how could something cost so much when there was so little to it? “And the only person who saw me in it was you. No one important.”

His mouth twisted dourly. “Thank you.”

“Oh, you know what I mean!” Her hand darted up to swipe at her eyes. “But I thought that if Robert could see me like this then maybe…just maybe he’d…” She shrugged a shoulder, feeling utterly pathetic. “Notice me.”

“But…Robert?”

With a cringe of humiliation, she shoved him away to scramble off the bed. She barely remembered to snatch up her mask before rushing past him toward the door.

A sob strangled in her throat. What a horrible, horrible night! All she wanted to do now was flee and never again show her face at Chestnut Hill, or in Islingham Village, or anywhere in England for that matter, so she wouldn’t accidentally run into Sebastian. Or Robert, because Sebastian was certain to tell his brother about this. Oh, what a hearty laugh the two of them would—

“Wait.” He grabbed her arm and tugged her back toward him.

Set off-balance, she stepped backward, and her legs tangled in the gauzy skirt. She fell against him, and his arms went around her to steady her.

Fresh mortification heated her cheeks. She’d tripped in front of him like some graceless dolt, then fell right into his arms. So pathetically. Her eyes blurred. Tonight was proving to be nothing but one humiliation after another.

“Let me go,” she pleaded.

His arms stayed firmly around her. “Miranda, I am sorry.” His apologetic voice was surprisingly kind. “I had no idea that you…”

Raising her gaze to his, she steeled herself against the pity she knew she’d see on his face.