“Better?” Dougal asked.
She smiled as though this was all quite ordinary. “Yes, thank you.”
She was just inside the door now, his bedroom decorated in shades of blue. Roman columns had been set against the wall and on either side of windows and doors. Venus was painted across one entire wall, rising from the fireplace in a cacophony of ocean waves and meadow flowers and frolicking cherubs with red cheeks.
Dougal wrinkled his nose. “You should see the other bedchambers.”
“Choices were certainly made.”
He grinned. After a moment, he added, with one eyebrow raised. “Meg?”
“Yes?”
“You appear to be standing in my bedroom. At midnight.”
She swallowed. “I am.”
“You would tell me that is not done. Is there a problem? What can I do for you?”
Oh, what a question to ask.
She had many, many answers. There was just so much he could do for her. To her. With her.
“I…,” she trailed off. Be your own woman, Meg. “I am leaving tomorrow.”
He didn’t look happy. “Yes.”
“I, well, we only have tonight left. Together. I know we can’t have a future but…”
“What are you saying, Meg?” He asked quietly. He was still, calm. Except for his eyes. They gave her courage.
And sent heat streaking up the back of her legs.
She took a careful breath so she wouldn’t choke again. “I want to spend the night,” she said, plainly, a little shyly. “With you.”
He stared at her for such a long quiet moment, her courage balked.
“If you want me.”
He was so still, so quietly still.
He didn’t want her. She’d been a fool. She tried to smile, as though she wasn’t in very great need of more whisky and also, please God, a way to turn back time in order to un-humiliate herself. Of course, he didn’t want her. He was kind, courteous. And a duke. She was wearing a nightgown that had been mended three times already, knew how to plant and grow turnips, knew how to pretend to belong to the glittering even as she felt herself shrinking every day.
But this was a choice she could finally make for herself. About her own life.
One little problem.
Dougal wasn’t interested.