“—You’ve clearly suffered a terrible shock.”
His soft, almost sponge-like tone made her feel as if he could absorb some of her stupefaction.
“Do you wish to hold mejustbecause I said I was dizzy?” she asked, not wanting to go from Willard’s frying pan into Neville’s fire.
“Yes!Of course.” He paused. “Right now, I could have no other reason.”
She discerned nothing lecherous in his voice. Nothing lustful or obscene. But he wouldn’t subject her to lewdness, would he? This wasNeville.
She believed him.
“Very well, then.” Before she could change her mind, she stepped back into the warm circle of his arms. “I am just…just a little bit tired.”
“I know, Millie. I know.”
She rested against his wide shoulders, so firm and real. He reassured her that her ordeal was over and that she would never have to worry about Willard again in dozens of different phrases.
Happy thoughts.
Happy,falsethoughts. Men like Willard were not inconveniences that could simply be left behind. At present, however, shedidfeel secure.
Neville was as compellingly solid as she remembered. And he enveloped her in comfortable warmth. She lost herself, lulled by his list of comforts, litany that had become lullaby. Then, gradually, in her embrace, she warmed, and her curiosity returned.
“How did you come to be here tonight?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
“I don’t remember seeing you in any of the boxes.” She would have noticed him, too. She always instinctively knew exactly where to find Neville, no matter how large or how crowded the room.
“The reasons don’t matter right now.” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “All that matters is that you rest. Rest and recover, and then we will decide what to do.”
Rest sounded nice.
Though the room was too dark to make any difference, she closed her eyes.Heat. Vigor. Leather. Hints of bergamot and clove.She’d been here, in this very position, sometime long ago. Last time, however, the fabric beneath her cheek had been soft.
She moved her cheek.
The wool Neville wore tonight was rough. And his coat had a wide lapel not at all in his usual style. Tentatively, she smoothedher hands up his arms before dragging them down over his chest. Was that acape?
God in heaven! Shehadfound him in the crowd!
She pulled back. “You’reone to talk!” She mimicked his phrasing. “I did see you, didn’t I?” She gripped the fabric’s folds and shook him as hard as she could. “Down in the pit. With your—with your—” She forced herself to say the word. “—harlot!”
“No, Millie,no! Not my—! Not even…” He sounded desperate. “For God’s sake, stop shaking me.”
“No!”
“But I can’t think!”
She stopped. She hadn’t been able to think in Willard’s presence, and she’d hated the feeling. She pursed her lips. She would not release Neville, though.
He might need shaking again.
“I should have known,” she said bitterly. “The most sanctimonious men are always the ones with the most to hide. Don’t bother to deny you were flirting with the woman. Isawyou!”
“Ihaven’tdenied anything. Iwasin the pit. But the woman you saw me with is not, nor has ever been, my—” He paused. “I haveneverpaid for a woman’s company, Millie! Nor do I have a mistress of any kind.”
“Ugh.” She groaned. “She wasdrapedover you.”