Page 68 of The Secret of Flirting
Gregory could scarcely comprehend her train of thought. But then, he’d lost only an abuser when he’d killed his father. She’d lost a husband. Guilt coursed through his veins like a shot of bad whiskey.
“Yes,” he said tersely. “I understand.”
They stood there a moment in a companionable silence, both of them lost in the past as his father’s ghost hovered between them.
Then he shook off the chill that gave him. Her mention of Father had reminded him of what he’d learned yesterday. “As long as you insist upon discussing this, I have something I should warn you about.” Leading her into the study, he closed the door. “Someone has been asking in town about Father’s death.”
She blanched. “Who?”
“I don’t know. But you need to be very cautious about what you say to people. Has anyone askedyouabout it?”
“Not lately, no.” She thrust out her chin. “And even if they did, it’s not as if I’m going to tell them that my son killed his father, accidentally or otherwise.”
He sighed. There were times whenhewondered what his motives had been that night. Had he merely been defending Mother with that shove? Or had he acted with the full intention of killing his father?
He could never be sure, and the thought often plagued his nights. “Just be careful, all right?” he told her.
“You be careful, too.”
That took him by surprise. “When have I evernotbeen careful?”
“Not aboutthat,” she said with a wave of her hand. Her gaze turned sly. “Careful about the princess.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, “What do you mean?”
“Youknowwhat I mean. You fancy her.”
Oh, God, now even hismothercould tell how he felt about Monique? “Don’t be absurd. She’s from a royal line extending back for generations. She would never be able to marry a mere English baron, no matter what his political position.”
“Which is why I said to be careful. Because I think she fancies you, too. And if the two of you are involved—”
“That will never happen,” he clipped out. Remembering what Monique herself had said, he added, “Nothing can ever come of a... er... friendship between me and Princess Aurore.”
Again he considered telling his mother about the attempt on Monique’s life, but something held him back. There was no need to go that far; Mother wasn’t in any kind of danger. Besides, he wasn’t sure he could trust himself to discuss the situation impartially, and whatever he let slip would only fuel her suspicions concerning him and Monique.
Clearly unconvinced, she cast him a searching glance.
He knew better than to fall prey tothat. “Good night, Mother,” he said firmly.
She hesitated before stretching up to kiss his cheek. “Good night, son.” Then she left.
A short while later, Gregory went off to bed himself. But he rose the next morning in a foul mood, having tossed and turned most of the night.
He’d had no luck the evening before in cornering Lady Ursula to find out why she was so fixed on the arrival of Prince Leopold, so he’d hoped to encounter her this morning. But she was still abed, and Monique and Pontalba had headed outside a while ago to choose their mounts for their ride.
Bloody hell. He had best join them before the impudent female decided to go off alone with the duke. Gregory meant to protect her from Pontalba, no matter what.
Are you jealous?
Damned right he was. Hehatedthat. It made him behave like an ungoverned fool, which he’d fought most of his life to avoid. Yet the thought of her and Pontalba together...
Christ, he wouldn’t think about it. It didn’t matter.
And where the devil was Hart? He should have been back from Dieppe by now. Not that Gregory didn’t believe Monique’s tale about why she was doing this. When she’d spoken of her grandmother, her emotions had been palpable. Still, he wanted to confirm her tale.
Because when it came to Monique, his cock was definitely leading him... right down the garden path to hell.
Scowling, he descended the steps of the manor house to find the groom holding his horse while she and Pontalba waited for him on mounts that were clearly growing restless.
