“God, no,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m angry at myself.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you with an abandon I haven’t felt in quite some time. And I don’t know what to do about it,” he said softly.
“I think you should kiss me, Your Grace.” He lifted a brow at her. “Ashley,” she corrected with a laugh.
“You think I should kiss you, Miss Thorne?” he teased. Goodness, he was gorgeous when he smiled. He threaded his hands into the hair at her temples and tilted her head slightly. And then he dipped his head toward hers.
Thirteen
Oh, goodness! He was finally going to kiss her. He looked so hesitant, so unsure of himself as he lowered his head toward hers. His eyes skittered from point to point on her face, as though he searched her closely to see what she was feeling. She couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since he’d kissed a lady. But she wouldn’t dare break the spell by asking.
The faint smell of whiskey tickled her nose as his lips finally brushed hers. He stole her breath with that one touch. But the moment his lips grew firm, a heavy knock sounded at the door.
Ashley groaned loudly and raised his head. “Go away,” he called out. Then he stood still and listened.
“Robin,” a woman’s voice called. “I know you’re in there. And I know you’re awake. I’m coming in.” The door handle jiggled. Ashley covered his mouth with his index finger and mouthed the word “quiet” at Sophia. She nodded.
“A moment, Mother. I’m not dressed.” The door handle stilled immediately.
Ashley took Sophia’s hand in a firm grip and pulled her over to his dressing room. He shoved her gently through the door and said, “I’ll be right back to collect you,” with a grin. Then he quickly kissed her forehead and pulled the door shut behind him. He left it cracked barely enough to allow a sliver of light to enter the room. She turned her ear toward the opening and adjusted her body so that she could see through the slit.
Ashley opened the door to his mother and leaned against the casing, effectively keeping his mother out as best he could, with one arm reaching to hold the door. “How lovely to see you, Mother,” he said, his voice droll and lifeless.
The dowager duchess ducked beneath his arm and slid into the room. He spun to catch her. “Robin,” she began to speak.
He glanced once toward the room where Sophia hid. “This is not an appropriate time, Mother,” he tried to interject.
But she would have none of it. “What on earth were you thinking, coming to dinner the way you did tonight?” his mother asked.
Ashley’s brows arched and he looked down his nose at his mother. Sophia had never seen him look so imperious. But he certainly could do lofty with the best of them. “The last time I checked, this was my house, that was my dinner table, and that was my food.” He scowled at her. “Did you misrepresent yourself? Or did you truly come to my chambers to tell me I’m not welcome at my own table?” The room crackled with energy. His or hers, Sophia wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was the two of them bouncing off one another. Goodness.
“You know that’s not what I meant,” the duchess said with a heavy sigh. “I was simply surprised, is all.” She reached a hand toward his forehead as though to check for a fever. “Are you feeling all right?” Ashley dodged her and sat on the chair Sophia had just vacated.
“I’m feeling quite well, Mother. Thank you for asking.” He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t ask questions. He just looked at her and waited. “Did you have something you wanted to say? Or did you simply come to tuck me in.”
Sophia covered a smile with her fingertips.
“I had told everyone you were ill,” his mother said quietly.
“I gathered that,” Ashley said with a nod.
The duchess began to pace and wring her hands. “So, I believe you should continue to be ill, Robin.”
Sophia inhaled harshly at that. Ashley must have heard it because he glanced toward the room where she hid.
“I should continue to be ill?” he asked. His voice was hard as steel.
“Well, yes…” She let her voice trail off. “It’s much simpler that way.”
Ashley closed one eye, cocked his head, and said, “So you would prefer to use my home, my hospitality, and my staff, but have me not attend the events. I hardly find that to be favorable.”
“Robin…” she started to equivocate.
“Spit it out, Mother,” he snapped.
“You’re a recluse, Robin. Everyone expects you to be recluse.”