crime?”
“Not a crime, but not entirely right, either.” She thought of the kiss that Chetwyn had bestowed upon her in the billiards room. Then again when they were walking. At the castle. It was as though he couldn’t get enough of her, would never have enough of her. “Do you know that we have not kissed once since that night? Not once.”
“I took liberties that night I should not have taken. I’ve been trying to spare you any further gossip.”
She narrowed her eyes. “So you did tell people about the kiss in the garden.”
He shrugged. “Only as a precaution.”
“Against what?”
“Your father changing his mind and thinking that it didn’t matter, that our marriage was not in order.”
She gave a light laugh. “Since he’s withdrawn the dowry, that’s not likely to happen, as he knows no one else will have me now.”
He grabbed her arms, jerked her. “What are you talking about?”
Not a lie, she told herself, but a small test. “My father has decided, based upon the recent worry I caused him, that I shall not come with a dowry.”
Releasing her, he plowed his hands through his hair. “I won’t have it. We discussed the settlement. Granted, we haven’t signed the papers, but I was depending on that dowry to cover my gaming debts. I shall have a word—”
“Don’t bother,” she said. “I shan’t be marrying you, with or without the dowry.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Have you been testing me? You silly girl, I’ll tell everyone what happened in the garden. Your reputation will be ruined. No one will have you.”
“I think you may be wrong on that score.” At least she hoped he was. But even if he wasn’t, as she walked from the room, she realized that she’d been spared making a grave mistake.
“—twenty stitches per inch.”
Chetwyn tried to look impressed with his present dance partner’s sewing skills, but the truth was that Lady Beatrix’s words merely collided together as they bombarded his ears and made no sense. He’d heard that Merry had recovered from her ordeal and would be coming to the ballroom before the night was done, so he was trying to distract himself. A part of him wished desperately that he had stayed by her side at the castle. It would have ensured she became his wife.
But he didn’t want her forced into something she might not want. He just didn’t know where he would find the strength to stay away from her once she married Litton. But stay away he would, because the last thing he wanted was her unhappiness.
“Pardon me.”
At the tap on his shoulder, he came to an abrupt halt and almost forgot to breathe. Merry stood there in a striking red velvet dress with white trim. She smiled at him, and this time his heart nearly forgot to beat. Then she turned her attention to Lady Beatrix.
“Forgive me for interrupting, but a gentleman asked me to give this to you,” she said, holding out a slip of paper.
“Oh.” Lady Beatrix took it, unfolded it, and read it. She blinked her eyes. “Who gave this to you?”
“He asked me not to say. He wanted to remain a bit mysterious, I think. But I am given to understand that he is quite impressed with your sewing skills.”
Lady Beatrix brightened. “Indeed. I knew some gentleman would eventually appreciate them.” She looked at Chetwyn. “If you will excuse me, my lord, I must see to this.”
“By all means. Who am I to stand in the way of true love?”
Lady Beatrix gave a tiny squeal before hurrying from the room.
Chetwyn studied Meredith. “What have you done, Merry?”
“I wanted to dance with you.”
“Well, then, allow me the honor.”
Taking her in his arms, he swept her over the dance floor. “Who was the note from?”
She smiled. “Me, of course. It said only, ‘Meet me in the library.’”
“At least she’ll be warm.”
Her smile grew. “And not alone. I saw Lord Wexford going in there on my way here.”
He laughed. “Jolly good.”
She blushed. “Who knows? Perhaps
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