Chapter Eleven

Selena's lips hovered over Warrick's, her gaze teasing his with sparks of laughter. The infatuation she'd had for this earl back in her childhood had begun with another such moment where their eyes had met and held for more than five seconds. Both then and now she had fallen into a daze. Only that time, he had been the one teasing her, and his gaze had been full of humor and not expectation. This one hinted at secrets and shared intimacies. Two things she thought she'd never experience with this man.

But it was the expectation that gave her pause.

She slowly pulled back.

No longer a na?ve girl who would have twirled at a request for marriage from him, Selena didn't need to take days to realize that an infatuation had blossomed, as she had when she was young. She recognized the burgeoning signs instantly. If she wasn't careful, a real feeling might sprout, a budding attraction that could at any moment bloom into something else. Not something more, just something else.

A kiss.

A touch.

A scandal.

This much she had gathered with their second kiss. A third would be a mistake.

Dark eyes flashed. "It's dangerous to tease a man this way."

Keep your cool, Selena."I know. Am I not allowed?"

He leaned forward, imitating her earlier behavior, and she scooted farther away, putting a less tempting distance between them. "If you are willing to take the risk, you can tease, but only if I'm allowed to tease you back."

"We shouldn't be teasing each other in the first place," she muttered more to herself than as a warning than him.

The way she wanted to abandon all resolve both confused and vexed her. She had not come this far just to be robbed of her common sense with a past-and-perhaps-recently-returned fascination. No matter how tempting and handsome he looked. She would not be swayed because he read romance novels, though inside her heart gave a little scream of admiration. What men read romance novels? She didn't even read romance novels.

"Agreed," he said. "It's not the appropriate time with your brother lying wounded in bed."

"Your reasoning..." She gave a burst of laughter. "Never mind. We should probably not give into this basic nature of ours again."

"Right." He nodded slowly. "We shouldn't."

"Not very convincing, Phineas."

"I can't help myself." His eyes took on a sharp glint. "Especially when you say my name."

"That is not an answer that..." that a woman who also can't help herself wants to hear...

"What answer were you hoping for, Selena . . .?"

Argh. I give up. She pressed the back of her palm against her forehead. "This conversation is making my head spin."

"My head has been spinning for a while now," Warrick responded in a low voice, and Selena had to will her body not to shudder. "I feel this sudden, absurdly strange attraction between us. I am uncertain what to do about it since you refuse to wed me."

Dear God, Warrick confessed to feeling an attraction toward her. Her pulse leaped. Dear God, dear God, dear God. "I am not ready for marriage, so stow your attraction."

"That might not be an option."

"Marriage or stowing your attraction?"

A brow shot upward. "Do you think it's something I can put back in a box? In my experience, ignoring a problem doesn't make it go away. It only makes it grow bigger."

He was right. And before she could think any better of it, she asked, "Then what do you suppose we do if we can't ignore it?"

"Cut it off completely. That is the only way."

Her brows furrowed. "How do you mean?" Surely not what it sounded like...

"We cut ties, Selena. At least temporary ties. You don't wish to marry me, and I can't make heads or tails about how I'm feeling. This is the best course of action."

Ah. Exactly what it sounded like. "I see."

His gaze narrowed. "You do not intend to make it easy for me to put distance between us, do you?"

"I'm not sure. So many things have happened these past few days, I am also a bit unnerved. When I said you should change the focus away from your curse, I didn't mean it should be on me instead." Familiar feelings of conflict rose within her, and the heat within her cooled.

He ran his finger along the spine of the book, an almost lazy action. "You're the only other direction worth looking at."

And then the heat started up again. "This is a rather bold style of flirting, my lord."

"My lord?" Both his eyebrows shot up. "This must be the first time you've ever addressed me in such a formal fashion."

"Is this not what you want?" Selena asked. "There are more ways than one to put distance between two people."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Noted."

"What exactly do you note?" Selena asked curiously.

"That distance can be achieved in many ways. My lady."

"My lord, I must admit, this particular distance is quite novel. I might just lose my head again if we keep this up."

He chuckled. "It takes a brave woman to admit that she loses control in the presence of a handsome man."

She snorted. "What handsome man? This conversation has taken a turn."

"Since it has taken a turn, why not lean into it?"

She snatched the book from him, that finger trailing up and down the spine of the book wholly distracting. "Are you punishing me for a stealing your duel?"

He titled his head a fraction, studying her with unsettling thoroughness. "I'm not the punishing sort." He leaned back into the sofa. "However, I am curious. Do you wish to be ruined?"

She arched a brow at that. "Are you referring to my many reckless acts?" A shrug. "I never intentionally set out to ruin myself, so no. I do not wish it."

"Then, do you want to marry me?"

Selena stilled. The man certainly knew how to cause a girl to pause! "No."

"You hesitated." He smiled.

"You caught me off guard!"

"I did? Are you sure? Wouldn't you have blinked if you were caught off guard? Like this," he blinked two times. "You clearly paused."

Blinking? How ridiculous! "Not because I'm unsure of the answer."

His gaze turned curious. "Why else would you not deny it straight?"

"Why are you bringing up marriage again?" Selena shot back. The man wanted her to expire from a racing heartbeat, didn't he? Honestly!

"I merely wish for you to consider the option, Selena." Something flickered in his face. "You do have options. And unfortunately, you won't escape having to have a thorough discussion with your brother on the subject."

"His opinion doesn't count."

"Ah, well, he will beg to differ." He shook his head. "He might not let the matter go."

"You are right on that score," a growl came from the library door. "I won't let this matter go."

Selena jolted, but quickly recovered to narrow her eyes on her brother's thunderous face. "What are you doing out of bed? You should be resting."

"When there is a wolf in my house?" This face turned even more thundering. "I think not."

A sigh came from beside Selena. "Now I'm a wolf?"

"Yes!"

Selena thought sparks of lightning might shoot out of her brother's eyes any moment. "Do not be a prude, Saville. A little kiss will not do me any harm."

"A little kiss?" He glared at her. "A peck is little. Was the kiss you shared a peck?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'd rather not talk with my brother about kissing."

"You won't talk with your brother, but you don't mind shooting him," Saville bit out darkly.

All the guilt and remorse she may have felt tapered away further with each word that left his mouth. "You were grazed. Why are you sulking over a scratch?"

"You still aimed a pistol at me and shot with the intent to hit me, even if it did end up being a graze!"

"You know that's not true." Where remorse had fled, annoyance began to take its place. "I apologize for shooting you." She lifted her palm in the air. "There, I've apologized. Do you feel better now?"

He gave an unnecessarily loud snort. "I suppose a sincere apology is too much to hope for."

Hah! "Thankfully we understand each other."

But instead of backing down, his eyes took on another glint. "Not only did you shoot me, you cost me a friendship."

Selena jumped to her feet in protest at that lightning strike. "I beg your pardon? I cost you what friendship?" How dare he accuse her of such a thing? "Do not be ridiculous."

His gaze skipped from her to Warrick. "Please see yourself out."

Warrick nodded and rose to his feet.

Was Saville being serious? Was Warrick just going to leave like that? "You are best friends!" Selena snapped, turning to Warrick. "You are just going to accept this?"

"Unless you've changed your mind about wedding me."

Selena had no words to offer.

A kiss was not nearly enough grounds for her to make such a decision. Even though her infatuation might once again have sprouted, and she couldn't help herself teasing him, it might also once again go away. What would happen then?

Besides, shouldn't a proposal at least be romantic? How could a man who read romance novels treat a topic such as this as casually as one conversing about the weather over tea?

Warrick gave a curt nod. "Then it's settled."

Selena stared in shock as he strode to the door. Was he truly going to cut ties just like that?

"This is what you want?" Their entire conversation had been a mix of teasing and testing each other's boundaries. She hadn't really taken his suggestion of distance seriously.

"This is what you need." He cast over his shoulder at her, and once again, she caught a flash of veiled emotion in his face. "What we all need," he finished before stalking from the library.

Just like that.

It was done.

Over.

She turned to her brother. "Are you happy now? I hope you enjoy this happiness. Alone."

She marched from the room without looking back.

*

Some things arehard to take your eyes off of once you notice them. Like the sun setting over the fields in the countryside. Two dogs mating on the side of the road. A little girl with an innocent face transforming into a beguiling woman. Or, in the immediate vicinity of the spot Warrick had chosen in White's, a new betting book.

Something akin to disgust—a palpable aversion—rose from deep within and gathered between his brows in the form of a scowl. It distracted him from his task at hand—writing a letter. An apology. What the devil did one say to a woman after kissing her, hinting at marriage, and then walking away, completely cutting ties?

He had made another mess.

Could he just blame his bloody curse? Perhaps he might feel better about the entire affair that way. But then again, perhaps not.

For the last several hours, he had poured over their conversation again and again. Each time he did he wanted to slap a hand over his face. Why the devil had he made such a suggestion? Marriage! And then walking out on that last claim. And how did each conversation between them always oscillate between banal, serious, and teasing, then back to serious, back to banal, back to teasing?

Ah, hell.

He had not wanted to put pressure on her. He hadn't wanted her to run away, and he hadn't wanted the weight of a proposal hanging over them. So instead, he had run off and left an overhanging cloud of more confusion. But wasn't it all the same?

He rubbed his temples. "Christ, I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

And now on top of that... why did they have to open another betting book? Why not do away with the practice altogether? Even as the question moved through his mind, the answer already shifted along with it. The book of wagers was as much a part of the club's blood as the rigid control over member selection. One incident would not change this.

Perhaps two? Should he steal the book?

No. That wouldn't change much, either.

It would take a bloody miracle, and perhaps a few lifetimes, for them to do away with the practice. He alone could not change anything, but he could be a start. A start of what, he couldn't say. That remained to be seen.

"Warrick."

His gaze shifted from the book to settle on the Duke of Mortimer, who motioned to the seat across from him. "Do you mind?"

"Go ahead. Though, I warn you, I'm miserable company tonight." So miserable that nary a word wanted to flow.

The duke took a seat, crossing one leg over the other. "Does this misery have to do with the new betting book?"

Warrick arched a brow. "Why would you say that?"

"You've been staring at it as though it might burst into flames any moment."

Well, yes, he supposed that was true. "It's a bloody sore sight."

"I agree with you there." Mortimer motioned for a server to bring him his usual drink of choice. "Some men, some establishments, never learn."

Warrick cast another moody look in the direction the book. "In this case, there is no entertainment to be had in learning from what happened here."

Mortimer nodded. "One would think that as advanced beings we could find better pastimes, but alas." He nodded to the blank sheet of paper. "You seem stuck."

"I am," Warrick said, a new idea taking shape in his mind. "Now that you're here, you can help me with something,"

Mortimer arched a brow. "Certainly, what do you need help with?"

"Who are the top reigning eligible bachelors in London?"

Mortimer's second brow joined the first. "The top reigning bachelors in London? Eligible?" He gave a thoughtful tap on the table with his finger. "Off the top of my head, I'd say it would be you, me, Saville, Dare, Wrath, Cassidy, and Mandeville."

Warrick scribbled down the names and drew lines for columns.

The duke murmured his thanks when a server brought over a bottle of cognac and two glasses. He poured them each one. He pushed a glass to Warrick, who nodded. "What are you doing?"

"Creating a list."

"A list? Why does this scene feel familiar?" Mortimer's normally calm voice held a note of amusement.

"If you are going to nag me," Warrick lifted his head to him, "leave." He'd had enough nagging the past two days from his own friends to last him a lifetime. He didn't need it from others.

"I don't nag."

"Good," Warrick said, paused, and shot the man a speculative look. "What would you say is your biggest flaw?"

"You should ask my mother."

Warrick's lips quirked, watching as the duke swirled the drink in his hand, almost lazily. "I'm asking you."

"Well," the duke gave a moment of thought, "my mother claims that I am too obstinate."

Warrick nodded, jotting down mulish.

"What about you?" Mortimer asked.

"Receding hairline."

Mortimer chuckled. "The plight of many a gentleman."

"Now..." Warrick wrote down titled beside all the names in the column he labeled "Best Trait." All except one. Next to that name he wrote another. Selena. Next he jotted down Saville's worst trait.

The duke peered over. "Infantile?"

"It's a recurring theme these days." He paused in his scribbling to think, staring at the names of the men in his bold scrawl. "We all know Dare is a libertine. Wrath is, well he is..."

"Cold."

Warrick nodded as he continued writing. "Mandeville has an aggressive nature."

"Cassidy is in love with himself."

Warrick would take Mortimer's word for it. He scribbled it down and sat back to eye his work.

"Forgive me for asking," Mortimer spoke, "but are you certain you are creating this list for the right reasons? I heard about the duel at dawn today."

Warrick wasn't surprised. "Those ears of yours are admirably sharp."

Mortimer shrugged. "That, and I have my eyes on the heiresses."

"Because of the betting book?" Warrick asked, considering the man.

"Amongst other things."

Warrick cocked his head. "Is your interest in the betting book not a bit too much?" He'd thought this for a while now.

"The club charged me with retrieving it," Mortimer answered. "And once I start, I'm like a dog that's got the scent of a bone. I won't stop until I get my bone."

"How self-aware of you."

"Being titled isn't my only good feature."

"Humility is certainly not one either."

"Ah yes," Mortimer murmured. "What is this ‘humility' you speak of?"

Warrick laughed. Amusement finally poked through his sour mood. "Do you have any leads on the book yet?"

Mortimer's lips quirked. Not in amusement, nor in annoyance. It was one of those in-between smiles that couldn't be placed. "No. I suspect the ladies are alternating the book between them. It's impossible to guess who has it or who will be next in turn to collect it."

"Have you thought about asking them for the book?"

"Would they hand it over?'

Maybe. Probably not. "I suspect that depends on their mood, as well as the reason for wanting the book back. I suggest finding a reason other than ‘White's charged me.'"

Mortimer nodded thoughtfully. "What reason would be acceptable?"

"The truth." Nothing else. "Those females will smell a lie before it's had a chance to form on your lips."

"White's commissioned me—truth."

"It might be White's truth, but it's not yours."

A low chuckle, followed by a rare smile. "Why wouldn't that be my truth?"

"A duke hired by a gentleman's club to look for a betting book. Even I don't completely believe it." Whoever believes that must be as witless as a post.

"Is that so strange? I'm a member."

"You might be a member, but your bloodhound determination to find your bone, on the other hand... one must wonder about your motivation."

Mortimer nodded slowly. "I see."

Warrick put the quill down and glanced at the betting book.

"You are going to secure that in the new book?" Mortimer asked.

"Yes." He glanced back at the duke. "Will you stop me?"

Mortimer shook his head. "I wouldn't dare."

"Much obliged."

"However, it bears reminding that you didn't create the list of heiresses," Mortimer said as Warrick rose to his feet. "Whatever guilt you may be feeling, don't be too consumed by it. What's done is done."

Yes, Avondale's mother had created the list, he thought as he strode to the table where the new betting book rested. However, he had participated, his scrawl had accompanied their fun, and he had lost the list. And it was time to put it in the past.

Now his handwriting once again accompanied a list, one of his creation. And he would, once again "lose" the list. The impact would probably be minute, but this wasn't about impact. He couldn't find the words for a letter, so let this be his apology. Not just for his part in the original list, but also for the look in her eyes as he walked away from her, her brother, and the mess he had created.

Let it be the beginning of his redemption.