Much Ado About Kissing (Howertys #4)

Chapter 18: Beauty and the Beast

Raindrops smattered against the window panes two days later as Rain sat in the upstairs drawing room, curled up with a book by the light of an oil lamp. It wasn't cold, but a servant had still lit a fire in the grate, leaving the room warm and cosy. She looked up as she heard Mr Russell exchanging a few words outside the door.

Marcus had mostly avoided her since she admitted to her plans for the future, other than the brief visit in the garden the other day. He still slept on the blankets in her room, but she was asleep when he arrived and he would be gone before she woke in the morning. The only signs that he'd been there were the folded blankets and a bowl of water from where he washed his face.

Part of her was angry that he was avoiding her. He had admitted to caring for her and wanting to remain married, but it wasn't enough. What did that mean? He cared for her? How? Like she cared for Malvern, the hedgehog in their garden? Another part of her was awash with guilt because she had obviously hurt him. She had not meant to. Had never considered that her admission might. He had not said as much, but it was obvious she had.

The door opened and Mr Russell popped his head in to say goodnight before disappearing, and Marcus entered. Like the other night, he had divested himself of the coat, wearing only his dove-grey waistcoat and white shirt with his dark trousers. She'd never known him to be someone who over-imbibed, but he had been having a brandy most evenings lately, and tonight was no exception. Taking a sip from the glass in his hand, he watched her silently, his thoughts clouded behind his stoic facade.

"Good evening," she said, putting a finger between the pages of her book as she closed it.

"Good evening." He moved a little further into the drawing room, his tall form casting a tall shadow on the wall from the flickering light of the fire. "Enjoying your book?"

"I've read it before. It has a few different tales." She lifted the volume to show him. "Currently I'm rereading Beauty and the Beast."

"Ah." He took another sip of his drink, then chuckled darkly. "Are you enjoying the similarities?"

She frowned. "I do not catch your meaning."

He made a sweeping movement with his arm. "A beauty trapped by a beast. Her surroundings might be decadent, but she is still destined to share it with not a man, but a beast."

"He does turn into a prince in the end," she pointed out, not quite sure what to make of his current mood. "Although, I must admit. He strikes me as rather desperate at times. The begging does not suit him."

"I imagine he is desperate," Marcus said. "He means to present a pleasing demeanour, and that is what makes her fall for him."

"Too pleasing is not appealing." She scoffed. "At least not to me. The lack of sense and looking like a beast is his curse, but the constant grovelling and almost begging to be pitied are not appealing qualities. No matter how much the author is trying to make it so."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Are you saying you rather he be a little rude?"

"Maybe not rude." She looked away from his direct gaze, her cheeks heating as she remembered the passion in his kiss a few days ago. Not these last two poor-excuse-for-a-kiss kisses, but the one when he'd been displeased with her. That was the type of kiss she wanted. Even if she shouldn't.

"Then what?" He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched her with a quirked eyebrow, and she could not escape the feeling that he was silently amused.

"I do not know." She put the book to the side and stood. "It is late. I believe I will retire."

"Pity. I was looking forward to hearing what you feel the beast was lacking."