“Gus...”
“It is.” She lifted her head. “You warned me but I was determined. I thought I could prove something to Henry…to myself. What a fool I was.”
“You wanted to prove something to Henry?”
Pressing fingers to her temples, she nodded grimly. Now Miles would think her even more silly.
“I was tired of waiting. I thought if I showed that I was not just a meek wallflower, then...” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Then maybe he would hear and return for me, and maybe I would not feel so boring and dull and like I was cast aside.”
Miles chuckled.
She pursed her lips. “This amuses you?”
“Only that you could think yourself boring and dull.”
“I am certain that is almost the definition of a wallflower and you cannot deny that I have become one.”
“Gus, you are far from dull, believe me. And I have seen and met many unusual people in my life. In our circles, there are plenty of the same people. They talk the same, behave the same, repeat the same amusements over and over. You are absolutely nothing like them.”
Augusta blinked at him. His words were so impassioned that she almost believed him. “If I am so fascinating, why did Henry leave me?”
“That will be for him to explain but I can only say this, my brother was a fool not to marry you as soon as he had proposed. If it had been me—” He stilled and snapped his mouth shut.
His gaze darkened and a rush of excitement swelled in her chest. She slowly rose and took two steps toward him. He remained frozen, creases between his brows forming as though he was in pain. She was terrified, every limb feeling weak, her heart thudding in her ears like a war drum, yet she could not help herself from saying it. “If it had been you...?”
His expression grew more pained. No hint of that sardonic smile or the creases around his eyes remained. “Gus...” His voice was husky.
She should say it. Just admit it all and throw caution to the wind. Tell him she did not wish to marry Henry and that she...she...well, she wanted more from him. But the words remained trapped. Apparently her courage would only take her so far.
“Gus,” he repeated, reaching for her.
She glanced only briefly at the open doorway but she could not say with honesty whether she could have cared if they were in full view of everyone. Rising onto tiptoes, she flung her arms around his neck and flattened her lips to his. A groan rumbled up from within him and he held her close, tightly, as though he was fearful she might pull away.
As if she could.
His mouth upon hers, his firm, warm lips—they kept her captive. This was even better than that night at his house. There was no shock or surprise...just pleasure. She angled her head and gave him access, allowing his tongue to sweep over hers. The world around her blurred and he bundled her closer, lifting her from the ground. He kissed her again and again, taking more and more from her but giving back so much. She could have sworn she could kiss this man for eternity. Pleasure swept through her at the feeling of his firm body against hers, his strong arms enveloping her.
He lowered her back to the ground, easing his hold but moving his mouth across her face and down her neck. She arched into the ecstasy, tingles racing from every spot of skin that he kissed.
“Gus,” he murmured, running his hands up and down her back.
A delicate cough from the other room splintered the moment. Augusta froze in his arms and he straightened. They didn’t break apart, and for that, she was grateful as she was not certain she would remain standing. Drawing in a long breath, she turned her head toward the doorway then let her head sag against his chest. Her mother remained in the breakfast room and remained oblivious.
Miles moved his hands to her shoulders and eased her back. “That was rather reckless.”
Too aware of her ragged breaths and heated cheeks, she kept her head lowered as she nodded.
“I did not come here to do that,” he said.
She lifted her head, spotting that sardonic smile back in place. “I did not think you did.”
“You’re a secret temptress, Gus.”
“I am not,” she protested in a harsh whisper.
“I know.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “It is my fault as usual. I forget how to behave as a gentleman around you it seems. I shall have to beg forgiveness once more.”
“But...” What if she did not wish to give it? What if she knew she was as much to blame as he was? The first kiss, perhaps, could have been entirely on him, but this one...this one was not.