Page 29 of Seductive Reprise
Rose looked straight ahead as she walked, lest her resolve falter any further. “That you’d forbid anyone from caring for me?” she said sarcastically, or so she hoped.
“No. That I’m sorry.”
Painful memories crashed down upon her, as cold and disarming as a bucket of water. On the bright side, it had a similar effect on her rising ardor. Now able to think clearly, she weighed his scant apology.
“Can’t you see,” she said, her irritation growing, “it’s not enough.”
“Why not?” he pressed, but a mustachioed man in a gray suit was fast approaching from the opposite direction. He watched Yusef anxiously, as if he were trying to figure him out and could not fathom just what he was looking at. Indignation grew within Rose, tightening her throat.
The man passed by without a word, but with hard, searching looks at the pair of them. A few seconds later Rose looked over her shoulder, only to catch him still stealing glances over his.
“He must think I’m your doxy,” she said flatly, hoping to distract Joseph from the insult that had been given to him as well.
“Who?” Yusef said, a sharp edge to the word.
Pain stabbed at Rose. She would not have him suffer such an insult, even if he was an entitled boor. She tried again. “It’s true, my landlady is nearly convinced I’m just a bit of muslin, I’m so disheveled most days. It stands to reason—”
She stumbled on the pavement, cutting off her rambling distraction.
He stopped. She swallowed.
“I don’t care what some backward, impoverished clerk thinks. Of you or me.” His eyes landed on her lips, and for a moment she wished she could kiss him, if only to once again feel the way she had as a girl. Beautiful. Wanted. Cherished. She leaned back slightly, further from him.
He met her eyes again, insistent. “Fine. You say it’s not enough. I’ll make it enough. Only give me the leave. Allow me your company. Allow me to make amends. For God’s sake, Rose,don’t hate me. Not anymore. Not again. Not after all this time.” With a sigh, he looked away, out to the traffic of the street. “It couldn’t be mere happenstance. Us. Reacquainted.”
She knew not what to say, for her entire world had turned upside down in the space of a fortnight. If some palm reader had ever suggested that Joseph Palgrave would one day reappear, begging to make amends, unable to take his eyes from her plain, poorly attired self, she would never have credited it. Her mind spun, thinking of the hurt in his eyes, the earnestness of his tone.It couldn’t be mere happenstance. Us.Of the cheque in her pocket branding her a hypocrite. Of the Earl of Ipsley’s letter, now reduced to ash. The gold-topped walking stick Joseph carried as if it were a part of his body. The confused anger of the bigoted passerby.
When she didn’t immediately respond, they resumed walking, passing another mile or so in a tumultuous silence. They had turned onto a main thoroughfare filled with throngs of people hustling past when Rose finally spoke.
“If,” she started, speaking very slowly, “we were to…” She paused, wrinkling her nose at the memory of his words.Start again, he’d said. She didn’t like the implication of a renewed association. She had no desire for that. At least, not outside of the very real bodily hunger that had snuck up on her, with the gnawing need to feel his touch. But she could withstand that. Couldn’t she?
Wetting her lips, she rephrased her question. “What I mean to say is, if we were to pretend nothing has passed between us, and act simply as… as polite acquaintances, would you, I wonder, be able to behave in an ordinary way?”
“Ordinary?” Though he spoke derisively, she caught his hopefulness.
“Yes, like normal people. Exchanging hellos. Niceties. Vague questions about my work. I would offer you some awestruckquestions about your stables, for instance, to placate your massive ego. And then we would say our goodbyes and part ways. There would be no purchasing of…” She frowned, trying to conjure up some ridiculous thing he would no doubt foist upon her if only she’d allow it. “Jewels, or gowns, or gifting of some country manse. None of that sort of rubbish,” she sighed, as if he’d been plying her with gifts for years. “No roughing up anyone, former beaus or otherwise.” She glanced sideways at him, her brows raised.
“Would you really rough them up?” he joked, unable to keep the smile from his face.
The thought arrested her. A panicked sort of jealousy grew as she imagined some finely bred lady dancing with him, whispering in his ear. Accepting his offer of… she drew a sharp intake of breath. She wouldn’t think it.
“Of course not. You may do as you wish. I lay no claim to you.”
“I disagree.”
“No.” Once more she halted, putting a hand out to his chest, and immediately regretted the action. Even through her gloves, and the layers of fine fabric he wore, he felt so firm. So safe. They both watched her hand as she pulled it away, her fingers fidgeting.
“Please understand what I’m trying to—” She closed her eyes and sighed, wondering how to explain it all. Someone bumped into her while hustling past, and she opened her eyes with a start as Joseph once more held tight to her, this time by the elbow.
“Have a care, man,” he snapped, murder written on his face as he stared after the commuter, who was already yards away. Rose doubted the person cared. Joseph looked back to her, his full lips pressed into a hard line. “Allow me to call my carriage.”
Rose almost laughed at that. “How would you—” she started, and then saw he was serious. Of course he was. She could not fathom how, but she suddenly believed that if he were to snaphis fingers, somehow his conveyance would pull up in the street before them. What must it be like, walking through life with such preternatural confidence? Her mouth felt dry once more.
“No, thank you.” She shook her head. “I do not think that is a good idea.” Her. With him. Alone in a carriage, curtains drawn. She’d already yielded so much today. It would not do to throw up the sponge. Not now, before she’d even had a proper go at him. For meddling with her life. For ruining everything they’d shared. Feeling a bit more confident, she stepped away from his hold, her body buzzing with anger and excitement.
“Fine. I’ll send you in a hansom.”
“Oh no, I don’t—” she began to protest, but it was futile. He’d already hailed a cab.
