Tempting Mr. Townsend (Dashing Widows 2)

Anthony stood up and loomed over her. "Most women in your position would—"

"I'm not most women," she said curtly, cutting him off as nobody these days dared. And bugger him if he didn't like it. "How dare you say I'm too blinded by privilege to note a man's genuine worth? And I'm not talking about how much money you've got stashed away in Child's Bank, Mr. Townsend."

He caught her arms before he remembered he had no right to touch her. "Then what the hell did you mean when you said Brandon shouldn't stay?"

She stared up at him, eyes blue as the sky. This time, it was her turn to blush. "Don't make me explain."

His grip tightened. "If you approve of Brandon and Carey's friendship, why shouldn't the lads stay here? I'll keep an eye on them. For God's sake, if you're unsure of my guardianship, you could stay, too. I'd certainly like that."

With a muffled sound of frustration, she pulled free. "So would I. Can't you see that's the problem?"

Guilt stabbed him. He'd felt bad enough when he thought she scorned his humble background. This was worse. He straightened. "You're afraid I mean to act dishonorably. You have my word, Lady Deerham. You're safe under my roof."

She exhaled with impatience. "Oh, how can a clever man be so stupid?"

"If I've made you feel uncomfortable, I can only apologize—again. I won’t bedevil you with my attentions."

She made a nervous gesture. "I don't fear that. I'm not…averse to your attentions—and there lies my dilemma."

His mouth gaped in shock as she flushed with embarrassment. Her slender body vibrated with tension—or was it excitement?

"What…what did you say?" he finally summoned voice to ask, while his busy mind wrestled to make sense of her astonishing confession.

Because the obvious meaning couldn't be true in any universe Anthony Townsend inhabited.

She closed her eyes and sucked in an audible breath. "I'm not saying it again."

He spoke very clearly to avoid further misunderstandings. If he got this wrong, the consequences would be disastrous. "You're giving me to understand that…that you wouldn't object to a kiss or two?"

She stared at the floor and her hands twined over each other in a dance of uncertainty. "It's impossible."

"Why?"

"Why?" Her eyes flashed up. "I'm a virtuous woman. And the scandal will be bad enough already, with me taking off into the night and staying unchaperoned in your house."

He smiled slowly. "We may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb."

She back

ed away. "You don't understand."

Actually he did. Finally. "You haven't had a lover since Sir Henry died, have you?"

"Of course not," she said hotly.

Vast tenderness flooded him, sweeping away hesitation. He'd wanted Fenella Deerham from the first. Discovering that she wanted him, too, emboldened him to meet all opposition head on. Even from a dead man.

"Fenella," he said gently, "you've been on your own for five years."

Distress turned her eyes glassy. He didn't underestimate the obstacles between them—the prospect of desiring someone new threatened to tear her apart. Let alone going on to do anything about it. "I love Henry."

"That's well and good. But you're a vibrant, attractive woman and, forgive my bluntness, you're here and he, God rest his soul, isn't."

"So I should leap into the bed of the first reprobate who shows an interest?" she asked bitterly.

Anthony couldn't help smiling. "I very much doubt I'm the first man in five years who's expressed his admiration." He inspected her thoughtfully. "But that's not the real problem, is it? The real problem is that I'm the first man who has aroused your interest in return."

"That's…that's why I think we should try and avoid one another."