Page 22 of The Lady Was Lying
“Why are you in my carriage?” he asked, his voice soft but haughty.
Her reasons were more complex than she wanted to admit, so she kept her answer vague. “I needed to speak with you.”
“You already spoke with me. We had dinner across the table from each other.”
“We barely spoke. You attempted to ignore me,” she argued.
She expected a reaction—annoyance, or perhaps anger—but his expression remained neutral when he replied, “You were glaring at me the entire night.”
“I was not.” She probably had been.
He sighed as if she were exasperating. “You have my attention now.”
But not his admiration. It was more vexing than she was willing to admit.
Why didn’t he want her?
She had never wasted her time or her energy worrying about a man before, so why was she doing it now? It had to be because he had rejected her. She refused to consider any other reason.
“Why isn’t the carriage moving?” she asked.
He frowned. “Because you’re still in it.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d been where she shouldn’t be, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. Refusing to budge until after they had talked, she settled deeper into the soft cushions and raised her left brow. “Someone will wonder why you haven’t left. What will you say if one of my brother’s footmen comes to check if something is amiss and finds me here?”
He tapped on the roof and the carriage immediately rolled forward. “Happy?”
“Ecstatic.” She offered an insincere smile that he didn’t return.
“Why are you here?” he asked again.
Her smile faded. “You and I have unfinished business.”
“From last night?”
She nodded but didn’t speak.
He looked down, his expression hidden in the shadows. “I apologize if I was curt with you, but you surprised me.”
She laughed even though she wasn’t amused.
The steely control he exhibited infuriated her almost as much as his disinterest. Embracing the urge to elicit a reaction, she informed him, “A stranger in a bookshop kissed me today. No hesitation. He took control of my lips like they belonged to him. When I paused to take a breath, he asked if I wanted to join him at his lodgings.”
“And did you?” he asked, his words even, his expression still hidden.
“Of course not.” Did he think so little of her?
“I don’t know what you expect me to say. Well done?”
Was that sarcasm? “It got me thinking.”
“That you should be more careful?” he asked.
“Ha.” She didn’t laugh this time. “That men are shockingly predictable.”
She let the words hang between them, hoping he’d fill the silence, and for the first time that evening, he gave her what she wanted. “Why? Because they always kiss you?”
“Not always,” she reminded him.
