The Lady in Disguise

Chapter Twenty-Eight (part one)

"No, not the black waistcoat." Byrne gestured impatiently to the open closet. "The blue."

"An actual colour," Fletcher said, all surprise.

"Aren't you the one always harping on about me wearing greys and blacks?"

"And browns. My personal least favorite. Sometimes I fear staring too long into your closet will send me into fits of melancholy," Fletcher droned, taking out the blue waistcoat and a darker blue dinner jacket to match. "But I have to wonder why you're so unusually fastidious tonight."

"Perhaps I'm finally taking in all your edicts about being dressed for success."

Fletcher gave him a suspicious grunt, "Then I have to wonder what success you are after tonight."

Fletcher could keep wondering. Byrne was not about to tell him about his intentions toward Miss Crewe. The man had already noted that Byrne asked after her too much and that was enough. Besides that, he never liked to discuss his plans until he felt secure that they might prove fruitful. 

He just hoped for better fruits tonight than he'd had this afternoon. He had not planned on finding her in the woods. And he certainly hadn't planned on kissing her.

After leaving Tony, he'd been after another ride before the rain came again, hoping it might clear his head. Having failed at coaxing Emir, the stubborn lout, he thought a walk might help. But it hadn't. He'd never been more muddled.

He'd not meant to come at her with such ire, but he'd just been so damned certain that Tony would be turned away. To find that hadn't happened put him in the very devil of a mood. He'd actually insulted her. He'd not meant to, but she seemed to take exception to it, particularly the word countrified.

Tony must have been more persuasive about his proposal than he'd expected, if she was truly considering it — or at least more persuasive than Byrne had been. There was no way he could compete against Tony's charm by being a beast. He should apologize. He'd lost his head with her in more ways than one.

He truly hadn't intended to kiss her. He'd gripped her arms, yes. Pulled her closer, of course. But he'd only meant to remind her of the attraction between them, something Tony could not give her no matter how reasonable his offer. He'd actually meant to tease her as he'd done this morning, when he'd been so certain she was just as tempted by him.

What he didn't expect was for her to kiss him.

That was when all hell broke loose.

She was a gently bred lady, not a light-skirted widow looking for a romp out in nature. Even if she had kissed him, he'd taken things too far. God, had he actually groped her breasts up against a tree in the middle of the woods?

No matter. Tonight, he would behave like the gentleman he strove to be. He would be himself again.

"I must say, I'm happy to see you take an interest in dressing properly for an evening in," Fletcher was saying. "But perhaps slippers would be better than—"

"No," Byrne cut in. He might be making an effort tonight, but he would not be donning slippers, stockings and knee breeches like some lordling at court. Some things were a step too far.

"Boots all day, boots all night," Fletcher muttered under his breath as he tied Byrne's cravat. "Going to supper, not a walk along the moors, but what do I know..."

Byrne barely heard, his mind still on Miss Crewe. First, he would apologize. Second, he would keep things light, perhaps even... flirtatious? He'd never been much for flirting, but he could try.