Page 65 of A Wicked Game

“A miracle,” he murmured. “A Montgomery being sensible for once.”

She deliberately stood on his toe.

Luckily, he barely felt her satin-shod weight through his leather boots. He quashed a laugh of triumph and tried not to notice the delicious scent of her hair or the way she felt so blessedly perfect in his arms.

God, what had he let himself in for? Spending the night under the same roof as her and not being able to touch her was going to be torture, but he couldn’t take advantage of the situation and seduce her, however much he wanted to. Years of training in the gentlemanly arts had ingrained that into him.

His father’s words, delivered at regular intervals to himself, Rhys, and Gryff throughout their adolescence, echoed in his head:

There are two types of women, boys. Women you can dally with, and women you must wed. Actresses, courtesans, barmaids, and the like—they’re all very well for a quick tumble, but seduce a lady of thetonand you’ll be caught in the parson’s mousetrap before you can blink.Be sure you know precisely which type you’re dealing with before you do something you regret.

Privately Morgan had always disagreed with his father’s logic. In his mind there werethreetypes of women: women you bedded, women you married, andHarriet Montgomery. She alone was the outlier, the single female of his acquaintance who didn’t fit neatly into either box. At age sixteen he’d definitely wanted to bed her, but the thought of wedding her had been enough to make him break out in hives.

Funny how age and experience changed a man. Now he wanted to bed herandmarry her, but Harriet was a law unto herself. Despite what she’d allowed him to do at his house, she wouldn’t surrender her virginity to a scoundrel like him.

Still, staying at her house and keeping her safe was better than nothing.

Even if he expired of unfulfilled lust in the process.

The waltz came to an end and they twirled to a stop. Harriet’s eyes were sparkling with excitement, her cheeks pink with either embarrassment or exertion, and it took everything he had not to pull her into his arms, right here in the middle of the dance floor, and kiss her.

Thereby creating precisely the kind of scandal they were trying to avoid.

He placed her hand on his arm instead, and drew her to the edge of the room, heading for where Gryff, Maddie, and Rhys stood chatting together.

“Did you come in a hackney?” he murmured.

She glanced up at him. “No. Gryff and Maddie collected me. I was going to get a ride home with them too.”

“I walked,” he said. “But that doesn’t matter, because we couldn’t be seen leaving together in my carriage anyway. You get a lift home, as arranged. I’ll go to my house, get a horse, and ride over to yours later.”

Harriet’s jaw tightened a little. “You seem well-versed in planning illicit rendezvous.”

“Just accustomed to solving logistical problems.” He shrugged, trying to conceal his delight that she might be jealous. “That’s half the work for a captain on a ship; figuring out who goes where, when.”

“Hmm.”

Gryff smiled in welcome as they drew near. “Evening.”

Morgan tried not to scowl as Harriet pulled her arm from his.

Maddie turned to her. “Harry, I hope you don’t mind, but I promised to take you to meet Lord Elmswood and Sir Roger Hargrave. They’ve both been pestering me for an introduction.”

“Oh.”

Harriet looked surprised, yet pleased, and Morgan quelled a growl. Why the hell was she always surprised that men wanted to meet her? Didn’t she own a mirror? She was beautiful. And not only that, she was witty and clever too.

For every man in the room who’d settle for marrying a pretty, brainless featherhead, there were an equal number who’d realized that having a bride with a modicum of intelligence would make life far more bearable in the long run. Not to mention increasing the odds of having children who weren’t complete idiots.

Elmswood and Hargrave both fell into the latter category, and Morgan quashed the urge to grab Harriet’s gown and pull her back. He watched, brooding silently, as the two women disappeared into the crowd, leaving him with his brothers.

Rhys jabbed him in the ribs to regain his attention. “Dancing with Harriet Montgomery again? Did you lose a bet?”

“No.”

“Interesting.” Rhys pursed his lips.

“What do you mean,interesting? I’ve danced with a dozen women tonight.”

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