Henry caught her hands before she could open another button and thanked the heavens she had finally come to the point. His body urged him to take Millie upstairs and make her work for that hat, but he was keenly aware of Eliza in the wing-back chair, and that it wasn’t Millie he wanted. “Much as I appreciate your talents, I don’t think we should go behind the viscount’s back. He is a friend, you know. Now he has taken my place, he might as well keep it, don’t you think?”
Millie’s eyes came up slowly to meet his, and comprehension dawned in them. She had overplayed her hand and this was to be goodbye. Her hands went to her hips in a decidedly unladylike stance and she narrowed her eyes at him. “You dirty, loathsome….”
His raised hand stayed her. “Now, now, Millie, no need to get into a temper. I tell you what, why don’t you go shopping for that hat and have them send me the bill. Call it a parting gift.”
At that, the smile returned, but she was still pouting. “What will I do till Fairly gets back?”
Grinning at her antics, Henry retrieved a fifty-pound bill from his box on the desk. But when he looked over to the wing chair, Eliza was glaring at him. She had obviously seen and not just heard some of what had passed between Millie and him, and did not approve. He tried to reassure her by holding her gaze and giving his head a tiny shake, hoping Eliza would understand he was just trying to part amicably with the lady, that he didn’t want Millie. He wanted her.
Henry folded the banknote as he walked back to Millie and tucked it into her bodice. “I’m sure you will think of something.” Then he turned her around and marched her toward the door.
She sighed heavily and sent him a dramatic glance over her shoulder. “Goodbye, Henry. It was fun while it lasted.”
Smiling, he winked at her. “It certainly was. Goodbye, Millie. William will show you out.”
Holding her head high, Millie made her exit in style, while William sprinted ahead to open the front door for her.
Eliza let out a relieved breath and chuckled. “So much for the tart.”
HENRY CLOSED THE DOOR AND stood there for a moment trying to call his aroused body to order, but Eliza stirred in her chair, and her presence drew him like a lodestone.
Moving closer, he leaned over the back of her chair in an attempt to spare her the sight of his erection. Eliza glanced up at him and raised an eyebrow. The thought she’d been jealous of Millie made him happier than he cared to admit, but he also felt the need to explain.
“Try not to judge me too harshly. The woman is skilled, and I’m only human.”
Eliza’s face was tilted up to him; her eyes mocking him gently. “Oh, you poor, dear, sweet man,” she said, imitating Millie’s purr, “is that why you are hiding behind the chair? Did she put a bulge in your pants?”
Henry let his hand drop over the back of the chair to tease one of her curls, and was just about to ask if she knew what to do with a bulge in a man’s breeches when she added, “At least you’re not chasing me around the room trying to rub it against me.”
There was a bitter note in her voice, and the comment was such a stunning mix of crude awareness and innocence that Henry felt ashamed of his urges. “We’re not all like that. It can be beautiful, you know, what lies between a man and a woman.”
They had both sobered, aware something had just changed. She met his eyes and nodded despite the blush staining her neck and face. Her eyes held a question, and she looked so beautiful with her face tilted toward him and the gentle curve of her breasts beyond, he couldn’t help himself. He traced the curve of her neck with the curl he still held between his fingers.
When the pad of his index finger started to follow the same path, he felt her shiver, but she held his gaze. He let his finger follow her collarbone to the square-cut décolletage of her blue-and-cream striped dress and, from there, dip to the soft swell of her breast.
His eyes were dark and smoldering now, and Eliza realized he had sent Millie away because of her. She wanted to believe him, part of her even wanted him to show her. But all she had ever done was run from the unwanted attention of the men around her. Even as her breath hitched in her throat at the touch of his finger, she lost her nerve and lowered her gaze.
Henry silently cursed himself for frightening her. He could readily imagine what kind of men she would have had to fend off at the inn. The crude jokes, the lewd comments, the rough, dirty hands grabbing at her. It was enough to make him ill.
He lifted his hand away from her, flashed her a rueful grin, and attempted to make light of it. “Easy, sweetheart! No need to worry, I’ll be civilized again soon enough.”
He waited till she met his eyes, and smiled his apology. “I’ll see you at dinner.” Then he headed out of the room.
ELIZA SAT THERE FOR A while, watching the bare branches of the elm tree outside the library window sway in the breeze, and tried to make sense of what had just almost happened.
Henry rarely dined at home, preferring his club and the company of his friends. She wondered whether he would come to her room and eat with her there, or if she was meant to meet him in the dining room.
And after their almost kiss, did he mean to take things further?
What would he do if she said no? His caress had been soft and gentle, but she knew how fast a man’s hand could turn into a fist. Would he hurt her too if he didn’t get what he wanted?
He had saved her, housed her, clothed her, fed her, entertained her, and, more recently, confided in her and flirted with her. Did he expect her to give him her body in exchange for these kindnesses? It was a reasonable assumption and one she understood. That was how the men she had known so far would see the situation. And human nature remained the same whether you were born in a Mayfair mansion or a cramped roadside inn.
Did he know she had wanted him to kiss her, and now thought her a wanton, no better than Wendy the barmaid who brought in customers because she lifted her skirts for a shilling?
The old panic she had lived with at the inn seized her and she rose, resettling her arm in the sling. She paced the length of the library twice before she could calm herself enough to think rationally. Not every man was crude and brutal; her father had been proof of that. She had just been keeping the wrong company.
Eliza knew Henry to be kind and considerate, so she saw no reason to be afraid of him. But was he waiting for her to come to him, or did he really not expect anything from her like Mrs. Tibbit insisted? She had told Eliza he never dallied with anybody living under his roof.
But she didn’t really live under his roof. She didn’t work for him and therefore didn’t depend on him for her livelihood. He had picked her up off the side of the road, where she would have died had he not intervened. She was staying in his house temporarily, and no matter what he or Mrs. Tibbit said, or how much he treated her as a friend, there was no way around the fact that she owed him.
Then there was the small matter of him being the most handsome, most intelligent, most amusing, and cleanest man she had ever met. She thoroughly enjoyed spending time with him. She wanted to know the things he had to teach her, and she suspected being kissed and touched by him would be exciting, pleasurable even, rather than repulsive.
She merely didn’t like the idea he might expect it of her.
Her ruminations were cut short by Mrs. Tibbit, who came to tell her Sir Henry had indeed ordered dinner at home and had extended an invitation to her to join him. In the meantime, he had taken off for a ride in the park, and Eliza joined Mrs. Tibbit in her parlor for a sewing lesson.