Page 64 of A Much Maligned Miss

He did not speak for a moment, and strangely, she thought he gritted his teeth. “You can have my nightshirt,” he said grimly, levering himself up and off her.

When prompted, she held her hands up so he could strip her of it. He swiped ineffectually at her stomach, clearing his throat. “I’ll fetch a washcloth,” he muttered. “I…apologize. That was somewhat undignified at the finish.”

“No offence taken,” she said, touching a curious finger to her stomach. It felt tacky. “Do you need to light a candle?” she asked hopefully.

“No,” he said quickly. “This room is only small, I’m sure I can find my way to the washstand…” He slid off the bed, and she heard him swear and clutch at the bedframe which creaked in protest.

“Gervaise?”

“It’s nothing. I’m just a trifle…dizzy,” he admitted. Curious. She felt more dazed than dizzy. He bumped against something in the dark and swore.

She was sure he would find it much easier to navigate by candlelight.

25

Gervaise woke abruptly in the early hours to a cat’s paw tapping his cheek. It was Romulus, who refused to be placated with a petting and started meowing in his face. Gervaise growled at him and cast a quick warning look toward Caroline, who remained slumbering soundly.

Once his eyes turned in her direction, he found he could not easily redirect them. Caroline Halperston, her face softened in sleep, robbed him of his breath and he was not sure he would ever get it back.

It took everything in him not to reach out to her and draw her against him. Not even for sexual congress, he realized in stunned disbelief. Just for…well, he was not really sure what for, truth be told. The impulse was a disquieting one. He had a horrible suspicion it was nothing more complicated than a misguided desire to cuddle with her.

Disgusting, he thought unconvincingly. Was he turning into some sort of dotard in his old age? Would he turn into a pincher and a fondler in future? His eyes traveled down the counterpane without making out much of Caroline’s shapely form. He suddenly found the idea was not entirely without merit.

He had never been much of a pawer of women before. In truth, he liked to keep the physical side of things to a very specific set of circumstances. And here he was currently breaking all of them, he thought incredulously.

If last night was anything to go on, she would likely not even murmur one word of reproach, he thought, swallowing. She had been so…fucking willing, he thought, his throat suddenly dry. More than willing. She had wanted him. Wanted him with a desire to match his own. His body, remembering the feel and taste of her, started inevitably to react.

Gervaise took a steadying breath, tearing his gaze from her. It was just an infatuation, he told himself firmly. Men were subject to these violent infatuations from time to time. True, he had never been thus afflicted before, but he remembered his friend Jeremy at nineteen. How completely he had fallen victim to Cupid’s dart. What a fool Gervaise had thought him. How pitiful that he now should…

But no. It was not the same. Jeremy had not made Emmeline his mistress. He had nobly withdrawn from the field until he could offer his beloved respectable marriage. Whereas Gervaise had not a noble bone in his body. He had pursued a far less respectable arrangement with Caroline and now look at him!

He wanted marriage, while she scorned him! A pretty state of affairs and no mistake. And it was entirely his own fault. He huffed out a frustrated breath. Why had he not realized that Caroline was not at all suitable for the type of liaison he usually indulged in?

She did not have the experience. She did not have the sophistication. She did not have the wherewithal for such things. His prior arrangements had always been entirely practical and devoid of emotion. He could enjoy the company of a pretty woman of an evening without wondering remotely how she had spent her day.

He did not dwell on them between times. He barely considered them. Caroline though was crowding into his thoughts an almost obscene amount. Why? He wanted her, yes, but this was ridiculous. Was it because she had rejected his offer of marriage?

He considered the matter impartially. Could it be as simple as that? A contrary longing for that which he could not have? But Caroline had made it abundantly clear that he could have her! Without any trappings of respectability in fact! So…no. It could not be that after all.

In vain he tried to tell himself she was the same woman he had thought nothing special not so long ago. When she had clambered into his carriage, he had half regretted his offer to her. And since then, she had undergone no incredible transformation.

She was the same practical, level-headed creature with her grave expression and sober clothes. A pretty governess, that was how he had once thought of her. Understated, calm, and repressed. Only the way her eyes lit up when she was amused gave her away.

Oh, and the way she yelled herself hoarse when she climaxed.

Fuck, why did he have to remember that? He stole a quick sideways look at her. Still fast asleep. Of course she was. What was she dreaming about, with her lips just parted and her lashes resting undisturbed against her cheeks? Why did her every unremarkable feature strike him now as sheer perfection? And how long would his obsession last?

She was far from his ideal, he told himself doggedly. She was… Well, she wasn’t… Again, words failed him. Well, she acted against his wishes, he recalled with great effort. He had bade her to stay in their rooms and instead she had ventured downstairs to consort with the inhabitants of a gin palace of all places.

Strictly speaking, that was his fault too, for getting them embroiled in one, he acknowledged. What a reasonable individual he was turning out to be! Well then, he would take a different tack. She liked taking him to task, he remembered, but instead of irritating him, as you might imagine, it sort of…intrigued him.

Suddenly, the impertinent words she had spoken at The King’s Head popped into his mind. I hope you will excuse my husband’s eccentricities, as I am forced to. He caught his breath. There was absolutely no mistaking it this time around. He had liked it when she called him husband. Fuck.

He had liked the challenging lift of her chin, the gleam in her eye as she waited for his reaction. He wanted it, that…her, all to himself. He wanted to set her at the center of his world and then organize his whole existence around her.

That alone was what would satisfy him. Finally, he had worked it out. This was what he wanted. His chest pounded as he waited for the inevitable panic to set in. Why wasn’t he panicking? He turned his head slowly, almost reluctantly, to take another look at the sleeping face of his beloved.

Oh. That was why. He wasn’t infatuated. He was in love.