Paul’s company chafed like sandpaper, although he’d been Giles’s best friend since they’d started at Eton. Paul had fought beside him when the school bullies had decided to put that swarthy, fatherless oddity, Lord Hallam, in his place. More recently, Paul had explored London’s pleasures with him.
Now Giles consigned handsome, charming, good-natured Paul Garside, the companion to whom he owed so much, to the deepest pit in Hades.
He sighed heavily and thought without interest about refilling his glass. And about leaving. There was nothing to be gained from staying in Dorset. He should go back to London.
Except there he might encounter the happy couple.
His estates in Devon? No, still within reach.
Perhaps he should sail for India. With luck, a hungry tiger might put him out of his misery.
Because nothing but annihilation would stop him wanting Serena. Even then, he’d probably come back and haunt her.
When he’d set out to stymie his friend’s wedding, he’d intended little more than a flirtation to show Serena that life didn’t begin and end with Paul bloody Garside. But her kisses were as addictive as opium, and they turned a man’s brain to porridge. At the church, the possibility of discovery had kept a rein on his desires. In the isolated summerhouse, he’d rapidly reached a point where kisses weren’t enough.
And they had to be.
Giles couldn’t deflower Frederick’s sister while he was a guest in the Talbot house. But her dangerous willingness to follow his lead had enticed him to the verge of the unforgivable.
He’d misjudged the powerful effect of his beloved’s nearness. Keeping his hands to himself had been simple when Serena treated him as a vague acquaintance. When he held her in his arms, control became impossible. He’d stepped away, the only thing he could do to preserve honor. His and hers.
And incurred not gratitude, but chastisement for his efforts.
He stared into the fire, recalling that nasty quarrel. And the pain shining in her gray eyes, pain that all the pique in the world couldn’t conceal.
Like an echo of last night, the door clicked shut behind him.
God give him strength. If Serena sought him out again, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions. Although given the way she’d refused to look at him all night, he couldn’t imagine she wanted his company.
No, in sending her away, he’d fatally wounded her pride. Regret added its doleful note to the dismal music playing in his soul. He’d done the right thing, but he could have been gentler.
He’d been so near to using her innocent response as an invitation to take things further, that he hadn’t been in command of himself. She’d had a lucky escape this morning. Although she’d never thank him for it.
When the intruder didn’t speak, Giles angled his head around the chair’s high back.
His heart plummeted. It wasn’t Serena.
It was worse.
Wearing a hard expression Giles had never seen before, Paul stood four-square in the center of the library. There was no trace of the lighthearted comrade who had shared so many escapades. “I should have known. You always sneak away to a library when things get too hot
in the real world.”
“Just wanted a minute’s peace, old chap. We confirmed bachelors sometimes find family life a bit much.”
Paul didn’t smile. Which was odd. Giles had long ago decided that Paul could smile through a hurricane. Foreboding stirred. A foreboding the next words confirmed.
“And of course you’re hoping this brooding act will trick Serena into looking for you.”
Slowly Giles rose. “I haven’t spoken to Serena all night.”
“At least you don’t insult me by pretending to misunderstand.”
Giles sighed and turned toward the sideboard. “Would you like a drink?”
“No.”
“She doesn’t want me.” Giles poured another brandy. He had a grim inkling he might need it. “She wants you.”