Page 94 of A Dangerous Engagement

“Oh, please do not be sorry, Mr.McDowell.” Felicity was leaning against the wall of the grotto and could feel the tiny shells pressing against her back. “I was happy to be able to see this place. It is very beautiful, is it not, Mr.McDowell?”

“It is very beautiful,” Mr.McDowell said.

“It’s a shame it is too dark for Mr.Birtwistle and Miss Appleby to see it.”

She heard a shuffling on the floor beside her. “Are you sitting by me, Mr.McDowell?”

“I am. And Miss Appleby and Mr.Birtwistle are resting beside me. But we had better lower our voices and speak in a whisper just now, as Lady Blackstone and her men could be nearby searching for us.”

“Oh yes, very wise,” Felicity whispered back. “Somehow it makes things seem very intimate, whispering in the dark, as we are doing.” She smiled, wanting to laugh but fearing she would disobey their new rule to be quiet. “Gracious, but I am so thirsty.”

“It’s the laudanum,” Mr.McDowell said. “I am sorry we have no water, but I shall get you some as soon as I can.”

“You are so kind, Mr.McDowell.”

It was dark ... so dark in the grotto. No one spoke, and she felt herself drifting ...

Philip could hear Miss Mayson’s breathing change and knew she had fallen asleep again. She had obviously been talking with a great deal less self-restraint than she would normally use. Lady Blackstone must have been trying to slowly murder her with the laudanum, probably to fool Mr.Ratley, whom he could not imagine would sanction the murder of his fiancée—even though shehadbetrayed them.

Poor girl. His heart squeezed with sympathy at the thought of waking her. But he’d be much sadder if she never awakened.

“Miss Mayson?” He touched her shoulder, and she started to fall over.

He put an arm around her to straighten her, but then she slid toward him. He scooted closer and let her lay her head on his shoulder. After all, no one could see them anyway.

“Miss Mayson?” he whispered again. “Are you awake? Don’t you have anything to say?”

“Is that you, Mr.McDowell?” She inhaled rather loudly and sighed. “Are you sure this is not a dream? Because it feels as if it were a dream.”

“How does it feel as if it were a dream, Miss Mayson?”

“I suppose because it’s so dark and I’m so sleepy. And it is so strange and dreamlike to be in the shell grotto, sitting on the dirt in my nightdress, with you, Mr.McDowell.” She sighed again. “I thought I would likely never see you again, and though I was so happy you had escaped the dreadful end Lady Blackstone surely had planned for you, I was sad.”

“Why were you sad, Miss Mayson?” He kept his voice low, hoping Miss Appleby and Mr.Birtwistle were not listening to this conversation, for he had an idea that Miss Mayson was about to say something very improper that she would regret—if she remembered it later.

“I was sad,” she said softly, “because I was engaged to marry a man with questionable morals. I was sad because I was afraid you would not think well of me for having been engaged to such a man. I was sad because you are ever so much handsomer than Mr.Ratley. And I was sad because I would never kiss your wonderful lips.”

He suddenly felt her hand on his chin, fingertips touching his skin through the day’s growth of beard.

He should not enjoy her touch. He should remove her hand from his face. But ... her touch was so gentle. He closed his eyes and pictured her face and imagined a tender expression on her perfect mouth. But then her fingers fell away. He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on remembering exactly how they had felt.

“I don’t think you could feel about me the way I feel about you,” she said.

“Why do you say that?” His heart was in his throat.

“You saw me kissing Mr.Ratley. I kissed him so you would not get caught and get killed, but I felt ashamed afterward.” She expelled a forceful breath.

“Ashamed?”

“I didn’t love Mr.Ratley. If I ever loved him, the feeling only lasted a day. But when I kissed him ... I was only manipulating him. I felt ... ugly and wrong.”

“Please don’t feel that way, Miss Mayson. I understand why you had to do it. It was very brave of you.”

He leaned over until his nose touched her hair. She smelled of flowers and warmth. He pressed his lips lightly against her forehead. Her skin was as soft as he had imagined it.

“Mr.McDowell.”

“Yes?”