A Lady of His Own by Stephanie Laurens Page B

unsettling to discover that his way forward with both involved Penny.
    Of all the potential ladies in the ton, he hadn’t considered her, because he hadn’t believed she would consider him . He’d always known that she could be his wife, that she could fill all aspects of the position without effort— if she would. He hadn’t imagined after the way they’d parted thirteen years ago that she might, but after kissing her an hour ago, he now knew beyond question that the possibility was there, and he wasn’t about to pass up the chance of turning that possibility into reality.
    Possibility. He wouldn’t, yet, rate it as more. From the moment he’d stepped close to her in the upstairs corridor at midnight, he’d been aware of her response to him, that it was as it had been all those years ago—intense, immediate, always there. Over the past days, he’d known every time her senses had flared; he wasn’t sure she knew how acutely his senses spiked at her reaction, how sensually attuned to her he was.
    Yet none knew better than he and she that that connection wasn’t, of itself, enough. It hadn’t been years ago; he doubted it would be now.
    He needed to build on it, to pursue it and her, explore what lay between them, what might evolve from that, and where it might lead them.
    In between pursuing his investigation.
    That wasn’t very wise. Indeed. She remained his most direct link to the Selbornes’ scheme; he now had to deal with her on two different levels simultaneously, juggling the investigation and his personal pursuit of her.
    Yet he couldn’t regret kissing her; he’d had to learn whether the possibility was there. He’d been tempted to kiss her in the courtyard at Wallingham, but it hadn’t been the right time or place. He’d pulled back, but when on their way from the stables she’d smiled at him and acknowledged she’d been right to trust him with her family’s secret, he’d been buoyed and encouraged enough to seize the moment, to learn if she would trust him in that other sphere, too. Whether there was a chance he could mend their fences even if he wasn’t sure what had flattened them in the first place.
    Such uncertainty, unfortunately, was his norm with her. He was an expert with women; he’d studied them for years, understood their minds, and was adept at managing them—all except Penny. She…he was never sure how to deal with her, had never succeeded in managing her, and had long ago given up attempting to manipulate her—the result had never been worth the price. For one of his ilk, such complete and utter failure with a woman was hard to stomach, and somewhat unnerving; he was always alert and watchful with her.
    But that kiss had answered his question. Not only had she allowed him to kiss her, she’d enjoyed it and kissed him back, deliberately and considerably prolonging the interlude.
    Well and good. He’d cleared the first hurdle, but he knew her too well to presume too much. All he’d gained was a chance to progress to the next stage, to determine how real the possibility that she might consent to be his wife was, how real his chance to convert wish into fact.
    He sat staring unseeing out of the window while the clock on the mantelpiece ticked on; eventually, its chiming drew him back, reminding him of the other challenge requiring his attention.
    Swinging back to his desk, he turned his mind to his mission. There, at least, the way forward was clear. The information Caudel, an exposed villain, had divulged before he’d died seemed in essence correct; it was now up to him, Charles, to ferret out the details and hand them over to Dalziel. He was very good at ferreting; one way or another, he’d get to the bottom of the Selbornes’ scheme.
    First things first. Reaching for the book of maps, he set it on his blotter and opened it.
     
    Penny wandered the gardens, thinking, to her considerable distraction reliving those minutes on the lawn under the trees. Those minutes