Page 53 of My Best Friend's Earl
Without a word, she stood and walked to his chair, then perched sideways on his lap. Her feet dangled over one of his arms as she tucked her head against his neck. Wrapping his arms around Constance Martin and holding her close felt like the most natural thing in the world.
“I’m sorry too. We could have been happy,” she whispered.
The tip of her nose was chilly where it touched the side of his neck. “We would have been so damned happy,” he quietly agreed.
One of her hands curled under the ugly orange waistcoat to rest over his heart, and a sigh rattled through him. Painfulas it was to hold her like this, the experience was also nearly unbearably perfect. He’d enjoy the moment for as long as it lasted.
A small snore escaped a short while later, and he grinned. She’d fallen asleep, and she snored. What a delightful, intimate thing to know. Careful not to wake her, he picked up the book he’d been reading, and found his place.
Chapter Nineteen
Say goodbye
Go to your favorite novelist for advice
Connie awoke from her unexpected doze with her cheek pressed against a warm, firm shoulder. A puddle of drool darkened his jacket. Embarrassment warred with the need to stretch like Prince had after waking in this same lap. Opening her eyes to Southwyn’s angular jaw and an up-close view of his sideburns had been disorienting at first. Individual strands of deep red and black blended into his dark brown hair. The scent of cologne was stronger there, as was his underlying natural smell.
For those few seconds, she had everything. Constance felt safe, cherished, and content—but with a low simmer of desire that would become a conflagration with the tiniest spark.
“Did you enjoy your nap?” The rumble of his voice acted as that spark.
She’d never been simultaneously aroused and dismayed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I’ve been awake since two o’clock this morning, and—”
“Constance,” he interrupted, cupping the back of her head and meeting her gaze. Hearing her name on his lips madeher toes curl. “Please don’t apologize. Holding you while you slept is something I never thought I would do outside of my dreams.” He touched their foreheads together. “I was able to pretend for a little while that I had you. Thank you.”
Under her bottom, something stirred, and they shared an amused look, loaded with awareness.
“Perhaps I should leave before we do something we’ll regret,” Connie said. Slowly, she cradled his face, then placed a gentle kiss on his lips. A goodbye of sorts, and her heart broke at the contact. After today, they wouldn’t speak of this again, or of their passionate encounter in the storeroom.
His expression mirrored her feelings, and she knew he’d received her wordless message. “Farewell, Oliver.” It seemed appropriate to use his given name aloud. Just this once.
At the door to the study, she donned her outerwear, then glided a hand over Prince’s shiny head.
“It was easier before I knew what this felt like,” he said, low enough that she wasn’t sure he meant her to hear.
Tears streamed down her face the entire way home, while Constance chastised herself for being ridiculous. After all, it wasn’t as if they’d had a real relationship to end.
Why, then, did it feel like she’d lost something precious?
When the sun chased away the clouds an hour later, she begged her father to cover the store, since Hattie had slipped off to places unknown. Owen agreed readily, noting with concern that her red-rimmed eyes would drive away customers.
Gingersnap purred when she slipped the lead over his head and grabbed his basket. While he loved to walk on a leash, there were times when it was unwise to do so on London streets. Even where she was going, in Bloomsbury.
Because when a woman realized she’d fallen in love with a man entirely beyond her reach, then fell asleep in his armsand had the best nap in the history of the world, she needed a sympathetic, nonjudgmental ear. Preferably one who grasped the awful, gut-wrenching beauty of this emotion pushing against the seams of her soul.
Thus, she needed Caroline, the Duchess of Holland—a vicar’s daughter and erotic fiction writer who’d thumbed her nose at the ton and snagged herself a duke. If anyone would understand what Constance felt for Lord Southwyn, it would be her cousin.
Except, when Hastings showed her into the drawing room, she found more than Caro.
In the doorway, she hitched Gingersnap’s basket deeper into the crook of her arm. “H-hello.”
On the sofa sat Caro with Baby Nate and Dorian, as expected. Beside them was Hattie, not expected. As well as Althea and Oliver—definitely not expected. He didn’t meet her gaze, although his spine straightened when she spoke. Damn and double damn.
“Connie! What a lovely surprise,” Caro said.
Gingersnap mewed a pointed complaint. Releasing the animal to wander gave Connie something to do besides gape at her friends. During those vital seconds she forced a friendly smile. An outward appearance that didn’t betray how her mind spun. Had she forgotten they were all meeting today? Wouldn’t Oliver have said something if that was the case? And wouldn’t she remember an appointment that included him?
Except, Caro said it was a surprise to see her. Ergo, Constance hadn’t been invited to whatever this was.
