Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The Next Evening, The Hemworths' Ballroom

M eredith couldn't find Griffin. She knew he was here. She'd seen him and Gemma when they'd first arrived. But an hour into the ball, he was nowhere to be found. She wanted to tell them both about the dinner party she'd spent all day busily planning. She was quite looking forward to it, actually. Not only would it be a chance to further Gemma's prospects on the marriage mart, but it was an excellent diversion for someone trying desperately to stop thinking about her time at the Onyx Club with a certain gentleman with a penchant for dark-blue waistcoats.

The Onyx Club.

Meredith's entire body suffused with heat every time she thought about it. The things Griffin had done with his mouth last time they were there should be illegal. Of course she was quite thankful they were not. Or at least she didn't know that they were. And if they were, she never wanted to learn any differently .

He had certainly surprised her. The man was talented both in bed and out of it. She'd had no idea he knew how to do all of those things, touch her in exactly the right spots, and lick her, and— Well, she'd learned a great deal over the last fortnight, and she wanted to continue her lessons. Which was precisely why she'd told Griffin she would be going back to the Onyx Club. She could only hope he would go back as well.

Of course, after their nearly disastrous conversation in the park yesterday, she seriously doubted the wisdom of going back to the club. But she couldn't help herself. She wanted to touch him again, wanted to feel him again. And the club was the only place she could do that…in the safety of a disguise.

She might never live down the embarrassment she'd felt when she'd realized that she'd said Griffin's name when he was pleasuring her while pretending to be someone else. It was madness. Thank heavens he hadn't said anything. He could have easily ripped off his mask and asked her if she'd known, if she'd always known. Instead, he'd gathered his things and left. Which was the only reason she could go back. Ostensibly, however, she should apologize to Mr. Sapphire, properly, for saying another man's name while he was touching her. And that was the reason she gave herself for why she had to go back to the club. She owed an apology to a man who didn't exist.

Their play couldn't go on much longer, of course. Griffin needed to find a wife, and she needed to stop her visits to the Onyx Club. It had been dangerous from the start. She promised herself: her next visit would be her last.

It had been an ill-advised adventure from the start. Oh, she'd tried to be worldly and sophisticated. She'd tried to take a stranger as a lover . But somehow it had all gotten twisted into something that could potentially hurt Griffin. That was the last thing she wanted to do. And now she was precariously close to ruining everything.

No. She merely needed to apologize properly, say good-bye, perhaps share one last forbidden kiss…and then she would leave the club for good. If Griffin was there, she could only hope that he would allow her to speak to him long enough to provide him with a sincere apology without trying to tell her his name again.

Of course there was another problem now. She was fairly certain that Griffin intended to ask her to marry him. It couldn't happen, of course. And she would have to tell him as much. Perhaps there was some way to say it before it got that far. The last thing she wanted was to hurt him. She had to somehow make him understand that she was an unsuitable wife.

She scanned the ballroom for Griffin once more. Where was he? She missed him when he wasn't at her side. When they'd gone for a ride in the park yesterday, she'd had more fun than she had in an age. She always had fun with Griff. Only they normally sat in her drawing room or breakfast room and read the paper and talked and sipped tea. They hadn't been out riding horses in an age. They should do that more often.

No.

A lump formed in Meredith's throat.

Griffin should do such things with his wife . Not with Meredith.

Furthermore, there would be no more guesses from her. She would simply tell him she'd run out of guesses and then begin giving him the names of ladies who would make excellent wives. Honestly, that's what they should have done from the start. Whose idea had it been to play a guessing game?

Meredith took a deep breath. Exhaling, she scoured the ballroom for Griffin one last time .

He wasn't there.

A quarter hour later, she was still searching for him. Griffin wasn't in the foyer or the drawing room. He certainly wasn't in the ballroom, and Lord Hemworth's study had been vacant when she'd walked by.

She'd already looked nearly everywhere in the house. It was time to go outside. Perhaps he was in the gardens.

She entered the Hemworths' grand library and marched over to push open the French doors that led out to the balcony that wrapped around the back of the house. When she stepped into the cool night air, a slight breeze ruffled the wispy hairs at the nape of her neck. The scent of lilies floated along the breeze. She breathed it in. Her favorite scent. She scanned the space, seeing a familiar, tall figure at the far edge along the stone balustrade. Griffin was there, outfitted in his all-black evening attire. He looked so handsome and so…alone.

"There you are," she called as she made her way to stand next to him. "What are you doing out here?"

He turned to her, and his face softened in the way it always did whenever he looked at her. It was comforting and familiar. Just like Griffin. She always felt safest when she was in his company. A lump formed in her throat when she thought of a day in the not-too-distant future when he would be married and no longer hers.

"Getting some air," he replied. "How is Gemma?"

"I'm happy to report that the last time I saw her she was dancing with Lord Timberly."

"Timberly? Good chap." Griffin nodded. "Is he invited to your dinner party?"

"Yes," Meredith assured him. "And she seemed to enjoy dancing with him, though I'm certain she shall return to her wallflowers directly afterward."

His smile faded. "There's no talking her out of it if her mind is made up."

"Yes. She has the Southbury Stubborn Streak, I'm afraid."

Griffin rolled his eyes. "As if you're not stubborn."

"Not nearly as stubborn as you are. Here. Your cravat is askew." She reached up to fix the neckcloth for him, and the scent of his familiar cologne caught her nostrils. Their eyes met and she couldn't look away. A shudder went through her body. Was it her imagination or did a tremor go through his? She quickly fixed the cravat and stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself as she turned to stare out into the inky darkness.

She shook herself. "What were we discussing?"

"I believe you were telling me my cravat was askew," came Griffin's deep voice.

She shook her head once more. "Before that."

"You were telling me I'm stubborn."

"Oh, yes, and Gemma is equally stubborn, which is precisely why the dinner party is a good idea. If we leave it to her, she'll spend the next five Seasons finding matches for everyone but herself."

"That sounds like Gemma," Griffin replied, chuckling.

"I've sent the invitations. All to eligible bachelors, of course. And a few well-chosen ladies."

"Thank you," Griffin said, inclining his head.

"Hopefully, Gemma will use the dinner party to learn more about the gentlemen and who she is most compatible with."

Griffin lifted his brows. "You're quick to look for matches for both Gemma and me, but what about you?"

Her head snapped to face him. "What do you mean? "

"Why aren't you looking for a husband of your own?" Griffin's voice was tight, harsh.

Meredith's eyes went wide. "What? You know perfectly well that I—" God. She was as nervous as a hare in a trap. But perhaps this was just the opening she needed to make her intentions clear. "I will never marry again. Never ."

His eyes narrowed on her. "Yes. You've said many times that you don't intend to marry again, but why is that, Mere? Really why?" His voice sounded nearly accusatory.

Meredith wrapped her arms even more tightly around herself. This was a subject she was loath to discuss…with anyone. Even Griffin. Especially Griffin . But she could tell it was more than just an attempt at changing the subject this time. He seemed almost…angry. Much like he had in the park yesterday when they'd spoken about Maxwell. "You know why," she replied quietly. "It wasn't particularly pleasant the first time."

Griffin stepped toward her, searching her face. "You made a mistake marrying Maxwell. That doesn't mean that you couldn't find love with someone else."

"Love?" Her cheeks heated. "Love?" She could barely breathe. "I stopped believing in love a long time ago."

"You've never been in love, Meredith?" His words were still a bit angry but infused with something else, something almost…sad.

She clenched her jaw. "I'm not having this discussion with you, Griffin." She couldn't. She couldn't have this discussion with him. Not now. Not ever . She shouldn't have come out here.

"That's right." He snapped his fingers. "You only talk about things that are safe. Like who I should marry."

That was it. She whirled to face him, her nostrils flaring. "Who says I made a mistake marrying Maxwell? You?" Why would he press her on this matter? He already knew quite well how she felt about marriage. And he knew little about the details of her marriage. She'd ensured he knew little about it. Why wouldn't he just accept her decision and leave it be?

But Griffin didn't back down. Instead, her words seemed to have riled him further. "Why not? You could find happiness in the arms of the right man."

She laughed. She always laughed when things got too intimate. The laugh was fake. She knew it and Griffin knew it, but it didn't matter. "You're jesting, aren't you?" She did her best to make her voice sound unaffected, but her emotions were anything but. She had to make this sound good. She had to make it sound believable. For Griffin's sake . "Do you know the wonderful thing about being a widow, Griffin?"

"No. No, I don't," he nearly spat.

"Freedom." She lifted her chin sharply. "I have my freedom. And I would never intentionally give that up."

"Freedom?" he echoed, as if the word was somehow funny.

She nodded but didn't meet his eyes.

"You only need freedom from someone who won't allow you to be free."

"Like a husband," she shot back.

"Like a bad husband." His eyes narrowed on her. "You know a loving husband wouldn't force you to do anything you didn't choose." He turned to her and stepped forward. His large hands covered her shoulders. His gaze met hers and held. "Really, Mere. Why ? Why are you so dead set against marriage? You have a lot of love to give the right man. We both know Maxwell was never that to you."

Meredith bit her lip to keep the tears at bay. She pulled away from him and shook her head. She looked out into the darkened gardens, and the tears made her gaze blurry. "I was a terrible wife, Griffin," she whispered. "I wouldn't put another man through that."

"What? What do you mean?" He searched her profile, concern and confusion etched in his brow.

But Meredith couldn't speak. Silence fell between them for several moments. "It doesn't matter, Griffin."

"It does matter to me. Meredith, I?—"

She shut her eyes and turned her head away. "Don't say it."

"Don't say what?"

"Whatever you were about to say. It won't change the past and my mind is made up. I cannot marry again. I will not marry again."

Griffin's voice was filled with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Well, as you've pointed out many times, I must marry. But there is only one woman I can marry…because I am madly in love with her."

Meredith lifted her skirts and ran back to the French doors.