Page 38 of Baron in Check
She reeled from the loss of his kiss, and he’d regained his composure, now pacing the room with his shirt undone and the muscles of his abdomen flexing as he walked. “I am not using you as a stepping-stone to the Earldom, Hermy, I never wanted it.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“I’m not playing for you because I don’t think you’re just a prize in a game.
“I never thought you did.”
He looked at her, hurt blurring the sparkle that had been in his eyes just a moment ago. “I don’t want to win like this.”
“Win what?”
“All of it!” He threw his arms in the air, as if he’d explained himself exhaustively, and left.
With her back to the wall, the memory of Greg's kiss lingered on her lips, a sweet torment that mocked her with its brevity.How could a moment so full of promise dissolve into such bitter confusion? She had felt the walls around his heart crumble beneath her fingertips, only for him to rebuild them, brick by cold brick, with his sudden withdrawal and harsh words.
Her heart ached with a thousand questions, each one sharper than the last. Why did he pull away? What was he hiding behind those stormy eyes that once gazed upon her with such warmth? The Greg she thought she knew would never shrink from a challenge, would never retreat into the shadows when the path ahead beckoned so brightly.
Yet, there he was, a contradiction in flesh and blood, pushing her away with one hand while the other seemed to grasp for her, desperate and seeking. It was as if he fought against himself, torn between desire and some unseen duty or fear. Anger, hot and fierce, bubbled within her. She was angry with Greg for his sudden change, yes, but more so with herself for her inability to understand, to breach the fortress he had erected around himself.
But tonight, she mourned the loss of what could have been, and the enigmatic man who held the key to her heart yet refused to unlock it.
The key.
She reached for the chain round her neck and grasped it.
CHAPTER 18
“That’s preposterous,” List spluttered when Greg entered White’s dining room.
Seated at the table with the Lord Chancellor and two other Members of Parliament, the Prussian baron shot a venomous look in Greg’s direction as soon as he spotted him in the doorway. “I’ve never heard of a mistress moving in. They’re best kept at arm’s length, or, as you say in English, better a leg’s length away.”
Murmurs of assent met List’s speech as Greg followed the maître to an adjacent table.
“It might be the Catholic upbringing I had, or perhaps I’m merely old-fashioned”—List waved grandly when Greg looked over his shoulder and took his seat, his back to List—“but mixing noble blood with the bourgeoisie is the same as dropping a little mud in a puddle, it’s all ruined.”
Greg turned to List and leaned on the back of his chair with his elbow. “So you agree your bloodline is a puddle, then?”
“Pardon me, but we’re having a private conversation to which you were not privy,” List snapped at Greg, casting a fake smile to the other men at his table.
White’s dining room was a battlefield disguised in opulence, where every polished surface reflected the gleam of wealth and the sharp edges of barely concealed hostilities. Crisp linens and upholstered chairs dulled the soft murmur of the elite. A silent war existed, each member parading their titles and manners like armor against veiled insults and cold, calculating glances.
Fave and Arnold appeared, led to Greg’s table by the same maître.
“There you are,” Fave said in a friendly voice that didn’t match the situation.
“Good afternoon, Greg,” Arnold said as another waiter joined the maître to pull two chairs back for Fave and Arnold to sit on.
“As a matter of fact, I’ve lost my appetite. I’m leaving.” Greg swallowed hard as he rose, giving his best friends a telling look.
Fave understood immediately and shook his head to indicate to the maître that he wouldn’t sit after all, while Arnold’s eyes found List.
“I feel the same, truly. Back home, we don’t eat with Jews,” List said to his tablemates as he put his napkin on his plate. “It makes my skin crawl.”
The dining room fell silent.
“Let’s stay civil, shall we?” the Lord Chancellor said when Greg narrowed his eyes and turned to face List.
“They are club members and only came to have their luncheon here,” Greg said.
