Her confident smile is equally attractive. She is displaying none of the nerves I understood her capable of. The woman moving gracefully toward me is like a butterfly emerging from achrysalis, and suddenly my aversion to the plan is not as potent anymore.
“You are beautiful, Tiffany.”
“As are you, Joseph?”
The twinkle in her eye is attractive, and I can’t tear my eyes away from her. It’s as if Harrods has delivered somebody else entirely, and I struggle to breathe as desire replaces indifference.
“So, tell me what the story is for tonight. I should be briefed, so I don’t mess up.”
She slumps into the seat that Spencer vacated and points to the decanter of bourbon.
“I don’t suppose you could pour me some Dutch Courage.”
“A nun who drinks bourbon. Aren’t you restricted to communion wine?”
“I can’t stand the stuff.” She pulls a face. “No, our father encouraged us to drink, and bourbon was my favorite. I love the woody tones and the fire it lit inside me as it goes down.”
“Your father encouraged his daughters to drink before they were of age.”
I’m shocked, and not a lot shocks me these days.
She giggles. “He concluded that if we were denied it, we would want it more, and he was probably right. It’s not often I drink unless the occasion demands it.”
“You’re nervous then.”
I oblige by splashing a generous amount of bourbon in the glass and she nods. “Yes, I’m nervous. I’m heading to a house I don’t know to mix with people I have never met. My escort is apparently going to be my husband tomorrow and is holding me captive against my will. These shoes are monstrous and cause my feet to burn already and I really believed that designer price tags should deliver comfort, but then again, I always was a misguided fool.”
She giggles and I can’t look away.
“However, I am also mildly interested to see what you’re like in company because if you are the asshole I have met, I’m guessing you have only been invited for your money or contacts and not because they actually like you.”
She takes the glass from my hand and, despite the amount I filled it with, she downs it in one and then stands, a flush on her face as she stares directly into my eyes.
“Shall we?”
I am so close to calling this entire evening off because for some reason I can only think of one thing right now and it involves us naked and me teaching my virgin bride why life outside the convent is way better than in it.
CHAPTER 12
TIFFANY
Ireally needed that drink. What a day. After an interminable hour spent getting ready with Mrs. Harrington fussing around me, along with the personal shopper, my nerves are at breaking point because of tonight.
What if something goes wrong? Joseph said himself I have a target on my back, and then there’s the fact I’m wanted for murder. He has conveniently forgotten about that, but I haven’t. Is Interpol still operating these days? Will they be waiting for me with a pair of handcuffs and a key to my prison cell?
I wouldn’t put it past Morgan to have eyes in every house in the world, and I will not rest until that woman is deep in the ground and away from me forever.
I don’t care that it’s a sin to wish another dead and to orchestrate their demise. I haven’t made my solemn vow yet, so I’m taking my opportunity before I do. Will I ever return to the convent? Either willingly or because I am dead. It’s a sobering thought, and only the burn of the whiskey is standing between me and a full-blown panic attack right now.
I’m surprised when Mrs. Harrington is waiting at the door with a black fur wrap and offers it to me with a smile. “It’s a little chilly outside, ma’am. You may need this.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
She helps me on with it and as I join Joseph at the door, he reaches for my hand.
“Shall we?”
I don’t miss hope flare in Mrs. Harrison’s eyes, and I pity her. She is obviously hoping for some kind of love match between us, but she’s deluded if she thinks that will ever happen.