Miss Featherton's Christmas Prince (The Marriage Game Book 9) by Ella Quinn Page B

about you, but the world at large.”
    Did that mean that his family did not?
    Meg’s maid appeared with her outer clothing. After she had donned her bonnet and gloves, she was shocked to feel a tremor of pleasure snake down her spine as Hawksworth’s long, warm, and gloveless fingers brushed her neck as he gently placed her cloak on her shoulders. Meg sucked in a breath, but did not trust her voice to respond. How could she feel anything for him when she knew he was dangerous? He was not what she wanted. From now on, she would simply have to steel herself not to respond.
    To make matters worse, when they got out to the carriages, Meg was put into the same one as Lord Hawksworth and the dratted man had to sit right next to her. Not that anything would happen. Lady Bellamny was with them, but she had commanded the whole of the forward-facing seat. Still, Meg didn’t want to feel his shoulder brushing the side of her cheek when he moved or his hard thigh as it touched her leg when the coach hit a rut, and she definitely did not want to hear his deep, seductive laughter as he responded to a quip Lady Bellamny made.
    She turned her head, looking out the window and praying not to be affected by the rogue.
    “Miss Featherton?” Lady Bellamny asked.
    “Yes, my lady?”
    “Are you feeling quite the thing?”
    Once again she considered pleading a headache. Yet then she would be sent back to the house, and she so enjoyed country fairs that she did not wish to miss it merely because Hawksworth was so distracting. “I’m well. The countryside has caught my attention.” Not that anyone would believe that faradiddle. “I thought I saw a deer.”
    “Possibly. Although I would rather you keep that information to yourself. I do not wish the gentlemen to begin organizing a hunt and interfering with my arrangements.” She shifted her black gaze to Lord Hawksworth. “I know you will not say a word.”
    He placed his hand on his heart. “Far be it from me to excite the other gentlemen to blood sport.” Humor lurked in his voice. “If anyone is to provide venison for the table, it should be your gamekeeper, but I beg it not be the deer Miss Featherton saw.”
    Meg almost rolled her eyes, but instead pursed her lips and said primly, “I am quite fond of venison. However, I would not wish to upset his lordship’s delicate sensibilities.”
    He turned his head toward her, raising his brows. “My delicate . . . ?”
    “Ha! She got the better of you there, my boy.” Lady Bellamny chuckled. “Serves you right for pretending to be what you are not.”
    Meg had almost giggled, but her ladyship’s last statement sobered her. No matter how handsome and charming he was, Lord Hawksworth was not for her.
    If fate was with her, she would see Lord Throughgood at the fair and be able to discuss her proposition with him.
    Damon could have howled with frustration. For a brief moment, Miss Featherton had come out of her shell. Then, like a tortoise, she’d stuck her head back in again. What had happened?
    He reviewed the short exchange. She had been on the verge of smiling when his godmother said that bit about being what he was not.
    Hell and damnation. That was it. Swindon and Tarlington had shown her false faces and broken her heart. She must think he was following their lead. And, of course, Damon had been playing a game with Polite Society since reentering it. But his intent had never been to harm anyone, even if he had made some of the more ridiculous Dandies appear even more so. Earlier this past Season, his friend Nick Beresford had told Damon his pretense would come back to bite him, and it had. Just not in the way he thought it might.
    He glanced at Miss Featherton, who was applying herself to the barren scenery. She probably had not seen a deer at all. He slid a look to his godmother. Her brows were raised, and her expression said as clearly as if she’d spoken, Now you know what she is afraid of.
    He pressed his lips tightly