The Rake’s Christmas Wager (Spinsters and their Suitors #2)

Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

H enry held his breath as the voices faded, the soft murmur of laughter disappearing down the hall. In the cramped darkness of the closet, he could feel the tension radiating from Lily—Miss Ashworth, he corrected himself. Though she had been quick to dismiss his charm, there was no denying the palpable tension that seemed to hang in the air in the small space between them.

He shifted slightly, aware of how close they were. Far closer than propriety allowed, though that was hardly his concern at the moment. The thought amused him—Miss Ashworth, with her careful composure and steely resolve, now trapped in a tiny closet with him. If she had her way, she’d probably push him right out into the hall and lock the door behind him.

He could steal a kiss right now—it wouldn’t be under the mistletoe, but that hardly mattered for the actual rules. But, no. If she screamed, she would give them away. And that would just not do.

“You’re very quiet, Miss Ashworth,” he murmured, keeping his voice low. “Is it the company that makes you so?”

She shifted slightly beside him, her shoulder brushing against his. “I’m trying to survive this absurd situation,” she replied in a whisper, her tone as sharp as ever. “If you would kindly stop talking, I might succeed.”

Henry bit back a grin. “It’s a closet, not a battlefield. You’ll survive.”

“It’s a game that I intend to win,” she said, her voice so quiet, he had to lean closer to her to hear. “I would have a better chance if you weren’t here.”

He chuckled softly, unable to resist teasing her. “I’m flattered. You’re making me out to be quite the threat.”

“Must you stand quite so close?”

“You expect me to take advantage of the situation, as if I’d planned such a rendezvous instead of just trying to find a hiding spot?”

“It would be like you to plan this sort of thing, wouldn’t it?”

“And if I told you,” he said, his voice softer now, “that I find this moment—right here, right now—far more interesting than any amusement I’ve ever sought before?”

Her brow furrowed, and he could see the flicker of surprise in her eyes, though she quickly masked it. “Then I would say you’re unsure of which way is up or down, Lord Brinton.”

He bent lower toward her, his voice a whisper in her ear. “I can assure you I know my directions, Miss Ashworth. And lest you fear for your safety or reputation, I will swear to you, on my honor as a gentleman, that you are perfectly safe with me in this closet.”

A silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. Henry found himself acutely aware of the way her breath quickened, and the sound of her lips parted as if she were about to say something, but thought better of it.

Finally, she said a soft, “Thank you, my lord.”

Before he could reply, the door rattled again.

Henry instinctively hid behind some burlap sacks, pulling Miss Ashworth with him as the door creaked open just enough for a beam of light to spill into the closet. They both froze, his arms wrapped around her as they held perfectly still. A figure stood on the other side of the door, peering into the darkness. Henry’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched the shadow shift, clearly uncertain whether anyone was hiding there.

He could likewise feel her pounding heartbeat and the warmth of Miss Ashworth’s body so close to his, the scent of lavender filling the air between them. She was rigid with tension, but she didn’t pull away.

After what felt like an eternity, the figure moved back, and the door clicked shut once again.

Henry let out a slow breath, relief washing over him. He turned his head slightly toward her, catching the faint outline of her face in the dim light.

“Well,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, “that was close.”

Miss Ashworth didn’t respond immediately, but when she did, her voice was quieter than before, a touch softer. “I suppose we both escaped this time.”

He smiled, though she couldn’t see it. “Indeed. I’d say we make a rather good team.”

She turned her head slightly, her eyes catching his in the shadowed space. “I suppose we did.”

Henry chuckled, but this time, there was something deeper behind it. A curiosity, a sense of something unspoken lingering between them.

He leaned just a little closer, lowering his voice again. “Miss Ashworth, you may not realize it, but you’re quite the mystery.”

“And you,” she replied evenly, though her breath hitched just slightly, “are quite the distraction.”

The door opened again, this time revealing the finder of the game. “I can see you,” Mr. Rowley said, pointing in their direction. Henry pulled back, releasing the tension with a lighthearted grin. Their moment was over.

“Yes, you have,” Henry said, standing, but not giving away Miss Ashworth’s hiding spot. He moved toward the door without looking back at her.

Mr. Rowley was just closing the door when Miss Ashworth sneezed. Mr. Rowley narrowed his eyes, peering back into the closet. “I know you are in there. You might as well come out too.”

Miss Ashworth stood up, coming to join the men at the door. Henry and Miss Ashworth followed Mr. Rowley down the corridor, and spoke of the other hiding places he’d found guests in and chattering about who had been found and who still remained hidden.

He ignored Mr. Rowley and said, “I’m sorry you were caught.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have sneezed. Thank you for not giving me away.”

“Thank you for sharing your hiding spot.”

“I didn’t share precisely.”

He bent lower to her. “I beg pardon. Thank you for not insisting I leave when I intruded on your hiding space.”

She laughed. “You are welcome. It was quite magnanimous of me, wasn’t it?”

He grinned. “Indeed it was.” And he was now certain that Miss Ashworth was not as indifferent to him as she pretended to be, which made him even more intrigued by her than ever.

As they strolled down the dimly lit corridor, the quiet hum of conversation from the drawing room faded behind them. Henry kept pace beside her, relishing the warmth of her company after the thrill of their shared hiding place. A faint blush still colored her cheeks, and he found himself grinning, unable to resist the charm of her unguarded moments.

Just ahead, a sprig of mistletoe hung from a low beam. When Miss Ashworth paused directly beneath it, Henry raised a brow. “Miss Ashworth,” he murmured, his voice smooth, “are you lingering beneath the mistletoe in hopes of something particular? It appears as though you’re waiting for a kiss.”

She let out a soft, amused laugh, her gaze darting away from him. “Hardly, Lord Brinton,” she replied lightly, though her voice held a slight quiver. But as he lifted a finger, directing her attention upward, her laughter faded, her eyes widening slightly as she took in the sprig of mistletoe dangling above them.

Henry’s gaze softened as he took a step closer, catching the way she swallowed, a subtle nervousness creeping into her expression. He leaned in, close enough to catch the delicate scent of lavender clinging to her skin, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “You do know, Miss Ashworth, that there are certain traditions associated with standing beneath mistletoe?”

“You promised,” she whispered, her voice a shade above a breath, “that I would be safe with you.”

He stilled, understanding immediately the full weight of her words. It wasn’t just her heart she was entrusting to him, but her reputation, her dignity—everything that made her the dignified woman he admired.

His gaze softened, the mischievous spark fading into something far gentler. “And so you are,” he replied earnestly, gently raising his hand to brush a wayward curl back behind her ear, his touch light as silk. “I give you my word, Miss Ashworth. In every way, you are safe with me.”

She inhaled quickly. Her eyes flickered upward, and for a fleeting moment, he thought she might allow him to close the distance between them. But he held himself in check, honoring the promise he’d made to her.

Instead, he stepped back, offering a soft smile as he nodded toward the path ahead. “Shall we return to the others?”

Her expression softened, a hint of warmth in her eyes as she inclined her head. “Yes, Lord Brinton,” she replied, her voice breathless. “I believe that would be wise.”

As they resumed their walk down the corridor, Henry couldn’t help but glance back at the mistletoe, a small smile playing on his lips. For the first time in his life, it wasn’t the kiss itself he yearned for, but the trust she’d placed in him—a trust he found himself wanting to be worthy of, more than any wager or fleeting conquest.

They joined some of the other guests in the room, but Henry stayed close to Miss Ashworth, watching her carefully. She was as composed as always, but he couldn’t help noticing the slight flush to her cheeks and the way her breath had quickened during their shared hiding spot.

With a mischievous smile, he leaned in slightly and murmured, “You were rather quiet in there, Miss Ashworth. I must say, I’m impressed by your ability to keep still under pressure.”

She cast him a sidelong glance, but she smiled. “A lady knows when to be discreet, Lord Brinton. Unlike certain gentlemen, who seem to thrive on creating unnecessary drama.”

“Until that untimely sneeze, of course.”

“I could have won if I hadn’t given myself away.”

His smile widened. “Ah, but where’s the fun in life without a little drama? It certainly made our hiding place much more entertaining, wouldn’t you agree?”

She raised an eyebrow, but a small smile broke across her lips. She tried to school her features, but he’d caught the underlying amusement. “I found it tolerable, at best.”

“Tolerable?” Henry echoed, feigning offense as he placed a hand over his heart. “Again, with the word tolerable. I’m wounded, Miss Ashworth. I was under the impression that our time in the closet was nothing short of delightful.”

Her eyes widened. “Delightful? It was cramped.”

“It was, indeed.” He waggled his eyebrows.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Henry laughed.

Her cheeks turned red. “I believe next time we are in a closet together, I shall push you out.”

He lifted a brow. “I didn’t realize there would be a next time, Miss Ashworth, but I assure you, I look forward to it.” He grinned.

Her jaw slacked. “That is not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

She was flustered, and it amused him. “I only mean I shall not find a hiding spot with you again.”

“What a pity.”

Henry’s grin faded into something more thoughtful as he watched her, her poise unshaken. She was a challenge, that much was certain. But she was also far more than that. And he could see the walls she so carefully put up start to come down. She was not as cold as she had been toward him. In fact, they’d built a pleasant rapport. She was flustered, rather than bothered. It was a sign that she might let him in. Something pricked him at the back of his mind though. He had given his word as a gentleman that she would be safe with him. Would kissing her now make her revert to her original perception of him as a rake? But why did he care what she thought of him? The question still puzzled him.

For now, though, thinking of their hiding spot made him smile. And while she might act as though his charm had no effect on her, Henry knew better.

She wasn’t as unaffected as she pretended to be.