A Week to Be Wicked (Spindle Cove #2)(87)

“And do you know the most ironic thing about it, Min?”

“What’s that?”

“I always liked you.”

Minerva paused in the act of tying her garter. She allowed herself one moment of absurd, heart-pinching hope before making a loud sound of disbelief. “Please.”

“No, really,” he insisted. “All right, perhaps I didn’t always like you.”

See? She yanked her petticoat laces tight.

He went on, “But you have to admit, there was something between us from the first.”

“Something like antagonism, you mean?” She stepped into the new gown and bounced on her toes, tugging the fabric over her petticoats and stays. The fit was rather tight. “The hostility of two barn cats fighting in a sack?”

“Something like that.” He chuckled. “No, it’s just . . .” His voice went thoughtful. “I always felt that you could see me, somehow. In a way no one else did. That with those fetching little spectacles, you could peer straight through me. And you made no secret of the fact that you despised what you saw, which marked you as far cleverer than most. I couldn’t rid myself of this fascination with you. Your sharp gaze, your enticing mouth, your complete invulnerability to all my charms. If I treated you poorly—and I know I did, to my shame—it was because I always felt rather hopeless around you.”

Her spine snapped straight. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

She poked her head around the dressing screen and stared at him. He lay on the bed, freshly shaven and washed, legs crossed at the ankles and arms propped behind his head. His posture said, Yes, ladies, I truly am this handsome. And I don’t even have to try.

“You,” she said. “Felt hopeless around me? Oh, Colin. That is too much.”

“It’s the truth.” His gaze was sincerity itself.

Minerva took refuge behind the screen. She was surprised her pounding heartbeat hadn’t knocked it over.

“I never despised you,” she said. “Just so you know.”

It was his turn to make a sound of utter disbelief.

“Very well, I may have despised you a little. But only because . . .” She sighed, unable to deny it any longer. “Only because I was so wretchedly infatuated with you. I didn’t want to be, but I couldn’t help it. All you had to do was glance my direction, and my heart would go all fluttery. Every time I tried to say something witty in your presence, it came out shrewish or dull. I’ve always considered myself an intelligent person, but I vow, Colin—no one has ever made me feel so stupid.”

“Well. That’s . . . oddly gratifying.”

She laughed a little at the memories, and at herself. “And all the while, everyone in Spindle Cove would talk about what a perfect match you made for Diana. I heard it at the tea shop, at the All Things, around the fire of an evening . . . Just underscoring again and again, no one would ever pair you with a girl like me. And that much I could have lived with, but the prospect of being your sister-in-law?” She swiped at a welling tear with her wrist. “I love my sister. I’ve always tried not to envy Diana her sweetness or elegance or beauty. But I would have envied her you, and the thought made me ill. So if we’re vying for the crown of Most Hopeless, I do think I had it won.”

After a long silence, he clapped his hands together. “I hope you’re ready to trade that crown for a five-hundred-guinea prize. I see our post-chaise out the window. It’s nearly ready.”

She emerged from behind the dressing screen. “How do I look?” She turned and fretted in the mirror. “Will the gown do?”

He came to stand behind her, settling his strong hands on her shoulders and waiting until she went still. “The gown will do. You, on the other hand . . .”

She . . . ? Wouldn’t?

Out of self-preservation, she tried to twist away from their reflection. His hands tightened on her shoulders, forbidding her to move. She watched him carefully, cautiously in the mirror as his gaze wandered her form.

She couldn’t take the suspense. “For God’s sake, Colin. What’s wrong?”

“You’re beautiful, Min,” he said, in a tone of wonderment. As if his own words took him by surprise. “Lord above. You’re stunning.”

She huffed a protest. “I’m not. You know I’m not.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“No one’s ever called me so before. I’m twenty-one years old. If I were beautiful, surely someone would have noticed by now.”

He seemed to think on this for a moment, dropping one hand to straighten the trim on her sleeve. “It is hard to imagine anyone overlooking beauty on this magnitude. Perhaps you weren’t beautiful until very recently.”

A nervous laugh rose in her throat. “I’m sure I haven’t undergone any dramatic transformation.” She searched her own reflection, just to make sure. The same wide brown eyes stared back at her, encircled by brass wire rims. They anchored the same rounded face and funny, heart-shaped mouth. Her skin had freckled and tanned over recent days, but other that that . . . “I’m the same as I ever was.”

“Well, I’m not,” he said simply, still drinking in her reflection. “I’m altered. Destroyed. Utterly laid waste.”

“Don’t. Don’t tease me.” I can’t bear to be hurt like that again.