Lady Guinevere and the Rogue with a Brogue - Julie Johnstone Page 0,24
put his hand upon her waist… It simply would not do to allow herself to linger on how her breath had caught in her chest when his hand had settled in a seemingly possessive position on her waist.
Possessive, indeed!
She was allowing more Gothic novel nonsense to fill her head. Asher no more wanted to possess her than she wanted him to possess her. He had loved Elizabeth. He had become intimately acquainted with Shakespeare for her. Somehow, that tidbit of information had felt rather like a knife being plunged into Guinevere’s heart. How dreadful to realize Asher could still injure that particular organ.
As she neared the library door, closed with warm light filtering from underneath, she scolded herself for being such a ninny. He had never cared for her. She would put him forever out of her mind this instant.
She took care to be as quiet as possible as she pressed her ear to the library door. She needed to discern the muffled voices coming from within the room, as it wouldn’t do to barge in on the wrong couple. That could actually be quite problematic and raise questions she could not answer without great risk to her reputation. Snippets of muted conversation, male to female, did not confirm that she had found Lady Constantine and Lord Charolton, though they had come this way from the ballroom.
Guinevere scowled at the dark mahogany of the door as she tried to think despite her now thoroughly aching head. She looked down the rest of the corridor but saw no other light streaming from any other room. It had to be Lady Constantine and Lord Charolton in there. She simply could not believe they were sitting in the dark in one of the other rooms. Surely Lady Constantine would know better.
Guinevere bit her lip with a frown. She was sensible, and she should have known better than to allow her pride to take hold of her during her dance with Asher, but look what lies her dratted pride had induced her to utter! Her and Kilgore? That she did not wear the scent of lilies? She was a fool. Perhaps rational women simply lost their wits when a handsome man turned a silver tongue upon them? No, no, she would not discredit women or herself in such a way.
“Lord Charolton!”
Guinevere jumped at the exclamation and burst through the library door to find Lord Charolton atop Lady Constantine on a long red settee.
He looked to the door, and his eyes widened in surprise before he frowned and scrambled to his feet. “Lady Guinevere,” he said in a cool, wholly unaffected voice. The man was not worried in the least to have been found in such a position. In fact, Guinevere would wager it had been his fondest hope. “I beseech you not to tell anyone you found me and Lady Constantine in such a contretemps. We could not help ourselves.”
“My lord,” Lady Constantine exclaimed, “I assure you I could have helped myself, except you fell upon me.” Fury filled the lady’s eyes as she looked between Guinevere and Lord Charolton. “He lured me in here,” she said, matter-of-fact, while frantically attempting to set her gown and hair to rights. “Please, Lady Guinevere, you mustn’t say anything.”
“I would not,” Guinevere assured Lady Constantine. “How could I anyway? I saw nothing.”
“Thank you,” Lady Constantine said, her voice solemn. “My mother is surely looking for me. She keeps very close watch. I must return to the ballroom.” She stepped around Lord Charolton and toward the door, but she paused in front of Guinevere. “Will you not come with me?”
“I’ll be upon your heels,” Guinevere assured the lady. She first wanted to inform Lord Charolton that she was aware of his scheming plans.
“Have a care, Lady Guinevere,” Lady Constantine said as she exited the room.
“Well, Lady Guinevere,” Lord Charolton said in a hard, ruthless voice, “you have mucked up my carefully laid plot.”
Oh dear. Such blunt speech could only mean the man was at his desperate ends. Guinevere took a step back from him even as he advanced forward.
“I’m a resourceful man, Lady Guinevere.”
“A good quality,” she murmured, taking another step only to have the back of her legs press against a table. She had a vague recollection of skirting around a table when she had entered the room.
Drat it all.
“I hear your dowry is rather large, though not as grand as Lady Constantine’s.”
“You have been misinformed,” she lied, stepping around the table.