improper.
“I’ll accompany you as far as the corridor,” he said.
A dreadful idea, but no harm would come of it.
This was his house. He could stroll any corridor he pleased.
She was a spinster. A chaperone. She was here to keep nubile nymphs out of his arms, not to tempt his self-control herself.
There was absolutely no danger of anything untoward occurring.
Nothing at all.
“Your party is an unequivocal success,” she said the moment the roar of the crowd was behind them. “But are you having any fun?”
“Dukes don’t have fun,” he explained to her. “Dukes have duty.”
She made a face. “If I were a duke, I’d have nothing but fun.”
“That’s why there’s a patriarchy,” he muttered. “Someone has to manage things.”
“I manage to have fun,” she said with an unrepentant grin. “I brought skis. Do you want to try them?”
“I can’t leave the party.” He stared at her. “It’s my party.”
“Pah. I sneak out of parties like this all of the time. There are too many planned activities for anyone to notice. One summer, on a tour of Lord—” She broke off, her eyes widening. “Are you saying you would play at skis with me... if it weren’t your party?”
“No skis,” he said firmly. “No risking my life until there’s an heir, and even then it’s an irresponsible idea.”
“Irresponsible but fun,” she said. “You keep missing the point.”
“Not everything is fun. What if I broke my leg?”
“I broke mine twice.” Her eyes took on a far-off sparkle. “Eventually, I flew over that crevice.”
“You jumped across a wide crevice?” he said in horror. “On skis?”
She nodded. “Fell into, twice. Soared across, once. Indubitably worth it. I won an astronomical wager.”
“You’re a madwoman,” he informed her.
Part of him wished he’d been there to see her win the bet.
“One moment...” She and Max slipped into her guest chamber.
She closed the door behind them.
He tensed.
From the corridor, all Alexander could hear was what sounded like his very expensive furniture scraping across his equally expensive floors, followed by excited yips from the puppy, and a peal of laughter from Miss Finch.
She was out of breath and disheveled when she slipped back out of the door and closed it tight behind her.
“There,” she said, the word husky and breathless. “What now?”
Now, Alexander was going to shove his hands behind his back and perform any magic necessary to keep himself from kissing her.
She grinned at him. “Cat got your tongue?”
There were many, many things Alexander would like to do with his tongue, none of which were appropriate thoughts toward Miss Finch.
He turned from her, heroically, all of the game-points in the world raining down around him in celebration of his stoic ducal restraint.
“I’m teasing,” she said, and nudged at his arm the way she liked to do when she was poking verbally at him.
It might have resulted in nothing more than that, except Alexander had chosen that exact moment to start walking away from her. His stride bent his arm at such an angle that instead of nudging him with her knuckles, her fingers tangled with his.
They were now holding hands.
In the middle of his guest corridor.
“Er,” Alexander said.
He should have let go of her hand by now.
He was going to.
Any second.
Miss Finch looked just as discombobulated. She had frozen still, which was the opposite of her natural state of human hurricane. Color rose up her cheeks.
They were very nice cheeks. They led the eye to her plump, kissable lips.
Which had parted, either in anticipation of the kiss that hung in the air between them, or because she too struggled for air.
He dropped her hand.
“My apologies,” he said gruffly.
She touched her fingers to her mouth, and then to her chest. “None needed.”
“I should not have touched you.” Why was he going on about this?
She nodded. “I should not have let you.”
“Then we understand each other,” he said.
He understood very, very well.
Under no circumstances could they be alone together again.
Especially if it might lead to fun.
Chapter 6
Cynthia Louise stared down at the straw she’d drawn.
After spending last night and all morning keeping every subsequent interaction with Nottingvale as formal and lieutenant-ish as possible, of course they’d been randomly assigned to the same team for the evening game of charades.
Each group of performers was spread out in pockets throughout the ballroom, leaving the raised wooden dais open for the pantomimes.
Cynthia’s team consisted of the Duke of Nottingvale, three debutantes, said debutantes’ mothers and chaperones—who had not been assigned to the group, but hovered over their charges’ shoulders protectively—as well as the duke’s