Then he thought about taking another step.
No.
Yes.
No.
Maybe?
Damn it. He didn’t know what to do. It was a singularly unpleasant sensation.
He looked back at Lady Lucinda, quite certain that his expression was not one of sweetness and light. Really, this was all her fault.
But of course now she wasn’t looking at him.
He did not shift his gaze.
She turned back. Her eyes widened, hopefully with alarm.
Good. Now they were getting somewhere. If he couldn’t feel the bliss of Miss Watson’s regard, then at least he could make Lady Lucinda feel the misery of his.
Truly, there were times that just didn’t call for maturity and tact.
He remained at the edge of the room, finally beginning to enjoy himself. There was something perversely entertaining about imagining Lady Lucinda as a small defenseless hare, not quite sure if or when she might meet her untimely end.
Not, of course, that Gregory could ever assign himself the role of hunter. His piss-poor marksmanship guaranteed that he couldn’t hit anything that moved, and it was a damned good thing he wasn’t responsible for acquiring his own food.
But he could imagine himself the fox.
He smiled, his first real one of the evening.
And then he knew that the fates were on his side, because he saw Lady Lucinda make her excuses and slip out the conservatory door, presumably to attend to her needs. As Gregory was standing on his own in the back corner, no one noticed when he exited the room through a different door.
And when Lady Lucinda passed by the doorway to the library, he was able to yank her in without making a sound.
Five
In which Our Hero and Heroine have a most intriguing conversation.
One moment Lucy was walking down the corridor, her nose scrunched in thought as she tried to recall the location of the nearest washroom, and the next she was hurtling through air, or at the very least tripping over her feet, only to find herself bumping up against a decidedly large, decidedly warm, and decidedly human form.
“Don’t scream,” came a voice. One she knew.
“Mr. Bridgerton?” Good heavens, this seemed out of character. Lucy wasn’t quite certain if she ought to be scared.
“We need to talk,” he said, letting go of her arm. But he locked the door and pocketed the key.
“Now?” Lucy asked. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light and she realized they were in the library. “Here?” And then a more pertinent question sprang to mind. “Alone?”
He scowled. “I’m not going to ravish you, if that’s what worries you.”
She felt her jaw clench. She hadn’t thought he would, but he didn’t need to make his honorable behavior sound so much like an insult.
“Well, then, what is this about?” she demanded. “If I am caught here in your company, there will be the devil to pay. I’m practically engaged, you know.”
“I know,” he said. In that sort of tone. As if she’d informed him of it ad nauseam, when she knew for a fact she had not mentioned it more than once. Or possibly twice.
“Well, I am,” she grumbled, just knowing that she would think of the perfect retort two hours later.