we not?”
Louisa merely inclined her chin, a small smile on her lips as Lady Forsham’s gaze darted between them before a dawning look of comprehension altered her expression. “Then this is altogether truly delightful. I am certain you will want to reacquaint yourselves.”
At this point, Thomas thought she would have gone merrily on her way, but she did not. Instead, she remained rooted in place wearing an expectant look on her face. An awkward silence followed. Then, as if the countess finally realized they would hardly be inclined to renew their acquaintance with her standing in avid earshot, she executed a small curtsey before turning and disappearing into the throng of partygoers.
What followed her departure was a silence the width and breadth of the Andes. Louisa effectively bridged the silence, stepping closer, her mouth set in a moue. “Would it have wounded that accursed pride of yours to respond to even one of my letters? You, sir, are a fiend to put me in a position that I should be forced to take up pursuit. That is supposed to be the gentleman’s privilege.”
Thomas cocked his brow and retreated a step. So refreshingly forward. Good, it gave him leave to be just as forthright.
“And here I thought my lack of response would clearly indicate my disinterest. If I’d known you required I put it in writing, I would have done so immediately.”
She winced. A bit of a farce if he’d ever seen one—as if she’d taken an egregious hit. After their acquaintance had met its dramatic demise, he’d thought of her as the queen—or duchess as it were—of deception. That’s when he could think about her without the rage and the feeling of betrayal and humiliation.
“Perhaps you’d care to find somewhere more”—Louisa shot a glance around at the ebullient crowds—”private to talk. It’s much too noisy in here for us to carry on a proper conversation. I’ve much to tell you. Much I think you might wish to hear.”
Thomas deliberately took in their position by the colonnade and the potted plants, which offered as much privacy from the crush as they would get anywhere in the room. “This looks to be private enough for me to say what I must.” He paused a beat. “I want you to stop.”
Two faint lines appeared on her forehead as though the final word bitten out through his clenched jaw surprised her.
“Calling on my mistress was low even for you.”
Her brown eyes darkened at the insult.
“I want you to cease the letters.”
Her mouth tightened into a red, pouty line.
“I want you to cease the inquiries of my whereabouts. I believe I’ve made it plain that I have no desire to renew our acquaintance.”
She wrinkled her nose delicately, as if her nostrils had just been accosted by an objectionable scent.
“Have I made myself clear?”
A myriad of emotions expressed themselves in her eyes, her mouth, the angle of her chin and her form. Finally, she offered up a smile teetering on the fringes of irritation and exasperation. “It makes me wonder, Thomas, why you’re so angry with me after so many years. Such strong emotions may suggest that you still have feelings for me. Feelings possibly as strong as mine for you. I hear you’re still unwed.”
The only thing more staggering than her arrogance was her cheek. As if his marital state had anything to do with her. Thomas’s own sense of propriety—and the group of debutantes casting interested looks in his direction—prevented him from delivering her the dressing-down she deserved, but something in his expression must have conveyed his derision.
With the suddenness of a shift in the wind, her eyes went from a contrived woefulness to shards of ice. But that too was gone just as quickly, though her displeasure couldn’t be completely disguised. He knew the signs: the jawbone protruding slightly, the indrawn breath, and a quick flaring of her nostrils. Rejection could never be considered an aphrodisiac.
“I can’t help if your overwrought imaginings have you misconstruing my indifference for some sort of pent-up longing. I will, however, ask that you cease your pursuit. Now!” The last word was a growled command, brooking no opposition.
With that, Thomas gave a sharp bow, pivoted on his heel, and started toward the exit. He could see her in his mind’s eye, her eyes wide in disbelief and then quickly narrowing to slits. How dare he walk away from her, a duchess, the daughter of an earl? He had, the penniless viscount who wasn’t penniless anymore. But her pride