Page 32 of One Dangerous Desire
“You’ve returned to me,” she said, casting a less than charitable glance in May’s direction.
“Have I given you cause for doubt, my lady?”
She pressed against him. Her scent, cloyingly sweet, trounced May’s roses. “Not as yet, though I could think of several ways a gentleman might set a lady’s mind at ease.”
Rex pivoted so that he couldn’t see May, not even out of the corner of his eye. “Tell me your ways, Caroline, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Chapter Eleven
THEY WERE BECOMINGa frequent foursome, she and Henry, and Rex and Caroline. The prospect of carrying on this way for the rest of their lives—attending parties together, elbow to elbow at balls, sharing the occasional carriage or train trip, and socializing at holidays—made May’s head ache. A little twinge had already begun building to a throbbing crescendo behind her eyes.
Today they’d planned an outing to the British Museum. May arrived early and stood tapping her foot and fussing with her gloves next to one of the museum’s soaring Ionic columns. Normally, she adored wandering its vast collections, but today she’d have to fret about sliding her glance toward Rex too often, or attending more carefully to his comments than to Henry’s. His scent would distract her, as it always did. A grin would catch her eye, a rumble of laughter, or his warm, deep voice would draw her notice over everyone else’s.
Don’t stand too close to him. And don’t notice when Caroline does.
“Are you talking to yourself?” Rex approached up Great Russell Street, his dark hair ruffling in the breeze. The length was too long for the dictates of gentleman’s fashion, and it suited him perfectly. He was a conundrum of a man, trying to fit into London society, and yet doing so on his own terms.
Why did he insist on being so irritatingly admirable?
“Reminding myself.” To not stand close to the man who drew up next to her, far closer than anyone other than a lady’s escort should.
“Of what?” He looked genuinely interested. The sincerity in his gaze was the hardest part to ignore.
“Never mind. Have you been to the museum before?” A safe topic, surely.
“Regrettably no, but I take it you have.” He grinned, a sly, conspiratorial tilt of his mouth that burst into a smile.
May held her breath and counted to ten to keep herself from doing something ridiculous, like returning his smile with a dazed one of her own. He rarely let those go. Those beautiful, carefree smiles that softened the angles of his face and creased the skin around his blue-gold eyes. Truly, he should warn a woman beforehand.
“Yes, but why are you smiling like that?”
“Since I first heard of your arrival in London, I imagined you here.” He took a step closer, blocking the cool breeze and surrounding her with his scent and warmth. “I imagined you haunting all of the museums in the city. Just like you did in New York.”
He spoke of their past together so easily, almost offhandedly. As if all the pain of their broken romance had been salved over. As if every memory she had of him didn’t still clutch at her heart in a bittersweet tangle.
She looked away. His gaze was too intense, reminded her too much of how he’d looked at her six years ago. Traffic whirred past, and beyond it a swift-moving procession of people, some crossing toward the black gates edging the museum. Among the cluster of faces, one stood out. The unmistakable figure of Mr. Graves ambled up the path toward the museum’s main colonnade.
“Oh no.” May frantically scanned the faces behind him, expecting to see her father in tow.
“What is it?” Rex glanced back toward the street.
“I just . . . ” She saw no sign of her father and sighed with relief. “Why don’t we go inside?” May moved, hoping Rex would follow her into the shadow of one of the large columns. When he didn’t, she reached for his coat sleeve and tugged him out of Graves’s view.
Rex arched a dark eyebrow and refused to budge.
“What is it?” He continued to look behind him, searching the crowd. Then he turned back to her with narrowed eyes. “You’re skittish. As if you’ve recognized someone, and are afraid we’ll be seen together.”
“Yes, precisely. Let’s go inside.” May started toward the main doors, eager to avoid a run-in with her father’s business partner.
“Wait.” Rex gripped her hand. “We’re not running away. Can’t you just explain to whoever it is that I’m only the man who tags along while the Earl of Devenham attempts to woo you?”
“Is that who you are?” May snatched her hand away. Even through her glove, she felt seared where he’d held her. “And here I thought I was just the woman who tagged along while you wooed Lady Caroline Grisham.”
He strode toward her. Nearly toe to toe. “You’ll never bejustanything, May. You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever known.” He lifted a hand as if he might touch her and then retracted it. “All too memorable.”
May gasped. The words struck her in the center of the chest, stealing all her air. The pain ricocheted down, and the recollection of that moment—no, not one—the many, many moments that she’d stood waiting for him in Central Park came back with aching clarity.
And he knew; he could see what he’d done. He tipped his head back and clenched his teeth.
