Promise Me Tomorrow. Candace Camp
the most formal room in the house. She spared a glance toward the sitting room, which she had just left, and caught sight of Betsy’s curious face peering around the door.
She closed the door to the drawing room behind them. It was a thoroughly indelicate thing to do, and God knew what Lambeth would think of her for it, but she hoped that the closed door would send a message to the rest of the “family” to stay out.
“Now, would you tell me why you came here?”
“Why, to see you. Why else?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I asked. I though perhaps you came to renew your absurd allegations.”
“My dear girl.” Lambeth put on a wounded expression as he took her hand in his and raised it to his mouth. “I came to apologize for offending you.”
His lips brushed her skin like velvet, and Marianne felt it clear down to her toes. She struggled to keep her breathing even. “A note would have done as well.”
“Ah, but then I would not have had the pleasure of looking at you while I threw myself on your mercy.”
“Don’t talk nonsense. I don’t think you are in the slightest sorry.”
“Indeed, I am. I am very sorry that you slipped away last night before we had finished our conversation.”
“There was nothing further to say. Somehow you got the wrong impression of me, and I don’t know how I can change your mind.”
“I would not be at all averse to your trying.”
“Lord Lambeth, you are very presumptuous.” He was still holding on to her hand, and it took some effort for her to pull it from his grasp. She walked away from him, sitting down in a chair and gesturing him toward the sofa opposite her.
“Mmm. No doubt. I have found that it usually serves me well.” Lambeth took the chair beside her instead.
“Was it you following me yesterday?” she asked bluntly.
“No, I assure you.” He smiled. “I knew that if you saw me you would flee immediately. I sent one of my servants instead—and a cursed clumsy job he must have made of it if you spotted him.”
“I didn’t spot him. It was just a feeling.”
“I apologize if he alarmed you.” His voice sounded sincere, and Marianne felt unwillingly warmed by it. “I wanted very much to see you again—that is my only excuse for such behavior. You say that I got the wrong impression of you the other night at Lord Batterslee’s. I fear that you received the wrong impression of me, as well.”
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