The Duchess War (Brothers Sinister #1)(46)

“It’s a messy business, flirting with you.”

As he spoke, water gushed out of the pump head. He caught it in the bucket that was chained to the pump.

“Well?” He raised an eyebrow. “You wanted to yell at me. I figured I would give you a solid chance at doing so without causing a scene. Go ahead.”

“Why did you use my words? Were you trying to endanger my reputation on purpose? Did you think that if I were blamed for it, you might escape all censure?”

He simply shook his head. “I should have known you wouldn’t shriek.” He shrugged and unwound his scarf from his neck and dipped it in the bucket. “To answer your question, no, I didn’t intend any of that. I might have been a little thoughtless, but not malicious.” To her surprise, he knelt in front of her, and dabbed at a spot of paste on her skirt with his scarf. “It was simply this,” he said, his attention seemingly fixed on the paste. “You’ve made an impression on me. If you could recognize your words in what I said, it was because my thoughts have been on you.” He looked up at her. “Often.”

It wasn’t fair that he could rob her heart of anger and her lungs of air with just one word. His gaze held hers overlong.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Here he was, on his knees before her, and yet she was the one slipping under his spell.

Minnie looked away. “That doesn’t change anything. It’s still put me in an untenable position. I don’t know what to do. You can’t just apologize and expect me to smile at you.”

He dropped his eyes from hers—not in surrender, but with a nonchalant air, as if to say he couldn’t be bothered—and dabbed at another spot of paste.

She couldn’t even feel his hands through her skirt. And yet she could imagine them, imagine that the slight pressure he exerted on her skirts transmitted itself to her petticoats, and from there to her drawers, her stockings, her legs. She shut her eyes as he worked his way upward.

The higher he got, the more she could feel it. When he got to the last bit of paste, there was nothing but the truth. He was touching her stomach. Through layers of cloth and corset, yes—but that was his hand against her belly. She sucked in a breath.

“I can’t believe you threw paste at me,” she muttered. “That has to be the stupidest thing—”

“Of course it was stupid.” He looked at the damp end of his scarf and then shrugged and tossed it over his shoulder. “That’s just the way these things go.” He stood as he spoke, leaving Minnie looking down—directly at the buttons on his vest.

“That’s the way things go?” she echoed dubiously. “Are you claiming to be a fool, Your Grace?”

“Under certain circumstances.” His voice dropped to a low murmur, and he leaned down so that he was almost whispering in her ear. “You see, there’s this woman.”

She wasn’t going to look at him. She wasn’t.

“Normally, one might say that there was a beautiful woman—but I don’t think she qualifies as a classical beauty. Still, I find that when she’s around, I’d rather look at her than anyone else.”

He set two fingers against her cheek, and Minnie sucked in a breath. She was not going to look at him. He’d see the longing in her eyes, and then…

“There’s something about her that draws my eye. Something that defies words. Maybe it’s her hair, but I tried to tell her that, and she told me I was being ridiculous. I suppose I was. Maybe it’s her lips. Maybe it’s her eyes, although she so rarely looks at me.”

Those fingers on her cheek trailed down to her jaw. Minnie felt frozen in place.

“She’s clever,” he murmured. “Every time I see her I discover that I’ve underestimated her prowess. She ties me in knots.”

They were just words—words that any man would say if he wanted to turn a lady’s head. Just words. They didn’t mean anything, not really.

But they were not just words. Nobody had ever said them to her; she hadn’t even known she wanted to hear them until he uttered them. Now they lodged like a knife between her ribs. She longed for them to be true—yearned for it so much that each breath hurt.

“What are you trying to say?” Minnie said to his waistcoat buttons. Her voice didn’t waver. It didn’t falter. “That you’re overmatched? We had already established that.”

“Of course I’m overmatched.” He was lightly stroking her cheek. “The male of the human species has a fundamental flaw. At the moment when we most want to say something clever and impressive, all the blood rushes from our brains.”

“It does?”

“Physiological fact,” His Grace said. “Arousal makes me stupid. It makes me say idiotic things like ‘I like your tits’ and, ‘Help, we’ve had a paste emergency over here.’ It makes me want to stay around you even though I know I’m overmatched, even though I’m sure you’re going to win.” His voice lowered. “You see, I want to watch you do it.”

She swallowed. And for that moment, she believed him. That she would win, somehow, win through to some future so impossibly bright it blinded her even to think of it.

“Even though I know I’m going to say foolish things,” he said. “And, apparently, throw paste at you.” There was a pause. “Sorry about that,” he finally said. “God, that was dumb.”