more closely resembled a caress.
“I have to.”
“Because of the kiss in the garden?”
Her heart slammed into her ribs. “What do you know of the garden?”
“Only rumors. The rest of your life shouldn’t be determined by a kiss.”
Yet here she was thinking that if she weren’t betrothed, the kiss he had just delivered would have been the guiding star for the remainder of her life. No one else’s would ever measure up.
A broken betrothal . . . Litton would sue. Her father wouldn’t allow that sort of scandal to happen. “You’re being a bit hypocritical. You’re asking me to change the direction of my life because you managed to steal a kiss that left me breathless. You had your chance with me, Chetwyn. You chose another. Now so have I.”
“I can explain.”
“It doesn’t matter. You may be in the habit of hurting people, but I’m not.” Rolling away from him, she scrambled off the table. “I was handling the cue properly. I would have beaten you, and I think you know it. Please accept that things are over between us.”
“Things never really got properly started between us. If we had more time—”
She shook her head, grateful that was all that was required to silence him. So few lamps burned. The fire on the hearth cast dancing shadows around him as he stood tall and straight, but she was left with the impression of someone trapped in hell. “But we don’t have the luxury of time, Chetwyn. Christmas is almost here, and then I’ll be married shortly after.”
Turning on her heel, she marched from the room before he could object. When the door was closed behind her, she raced down the hallway and up the stairs to her bedchamber. She flung herself across the bed and pressed her fingers to lips that still tingled from his ravishment. She had always believed that Christmas was a time for miracles, but at that precise moment she wasn’t certain exactly what she wished for.
C HAPTER F OUR
----
W hen Meredith entered the breakfast dining room the following morning, her gaze immediately shot to Chetwyn. She didn’t know why she noticed him first. The room was far from empty. Several round tables were filled with guests. He sat at one against the far wall, near a window that provided a view of the gloomy skies. Lady Anne and Lord Tristan were with him. It irritated her that Chetwyn looked as though he’d slept well after their parting, while she’d done little more than toss and turn.
After going to the sideboard and selecting a few sumptuous items for her plate, she turned and spotted Litton sitting in a corner alone. Contriteness snapped at her because she hadn’t noticed him sooner. She strolled over. “Good morning.”
He looked up at her with bloodshot eyes. “Don’t know what’s so good about it.”
His being out of sorts was unusual for him, or at least she thought it was. She realized that courting was a strange ritual in which one always saw others only at their best for a few hours, never for any great length of time. “The storm’s let up, for one thing,” she said, as a footman pulled out her chair and assisted her into it. With a flick of her wrist, she settled her napkin on her lap. She realized he smelled of stale cigars and old whiskey. “I was disappointed not to have a final dance with you last night.”
With a low groan, he slammed his eyes closed. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I was in the midst of a game of cards and lost track of the time.”
“Were you winning?”
“No, luck wasn’t with me.” He twisted his lips into a sardonic grin. “To be honest, you’re the only lucky thing to happen in my life of late.”
“Lucky that we got caught in the garden, you mean?”
He gave her one of the smiles that had charmed her so many months earlier. “Simply lucky.”
She sliced off a bit of sausage. “I don’t suppose you told anyone about our encounter in the garden.”
He appeared as flummoxed as she had been last night when Chetwyn had
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