The Countess Conspiracy Read Free Page B

“
you
complimented me on my talk, when we both know that you wrote it.”
    Violet bowed her head. “That was a mistake. I know. It was just—”
    “When the two of us begin to forget that this is a lie, it’s time to stop. I can’t tell anyone the truth any longer, and every little lie piles up. I’m feeling irritable. I meant what I said: I’m done telling lies for you. I don’t like the person I’m becoming.”
    If he walked away now, he’d leave an empty hole in her life. But what did that signify, next to his complaints? She stuffed the balled-up paper into her pocket.
    He took a step forward to stand in front of her. “It’s making me irritated with you,” he said more softly. “And that’s the last thing I want. I don’t want to resent you. You’re the only friend I have who understands everything. I don’t want to lose you.”
    It almost hurt to look at him. That look in his eyes, the way he advanced on her. She could feel the pull of him, as if she were a moon to be captured, sentenced to orbit around him forever.
    She looked away, biting her lip. He probably made all women feel like that. He did it without trying.
    “We
are
friends,” Sebastian said. “Friends beyond just your work. Aren’t we?”
    He took another step toward her. A dangerous step. This one brought him too close. Close enough to reach out, close enough to touch her.
    The possibility of his touch loomed when he stood this close. It brought out that hidden yearning in her—the kind that wished he would pull her into an embrace.
    But Violet wasn’t touchable. She was hard and unswerving.
    She forced herself to stare back at him, forced her heart to beat at a steady pace, unaffected by the dark glitter of his eyes. He had no impact on her. He was the kind of man who could draw a response from a rock—but then, Violet was colder than rock.
    She had to be.
    He took yet another step toward her—her heart thumped despite her best efforts—and leaned over her.
    He could lay his hands on her shoulders, pin her to the bench…
    She inhaled fiercely and stood, putting distance between them.
    “So that’s what this is about,” Violet heard herself say. “You’re annoyed that out of all the women in the world, you can’t make me fall at your feet.”
    He let out a breath and straightened.
    “Talk all you like about friendship, but clearly, I left the one thing that would convince you off my list.” She raised her chin. “Intercourse. That’s the currency you deal in, isn’t it?”
    Her hands were trembling simply contemplating it. She was cold all over, and yet her pulse was racing. She’d left that item off her list on purpose—one didn’t bargain with things one wasn’t willing to relinquish.
    He looked at her now—his gaze settling on her lips and then running down her body, down to the lace edging her walking gown, and then up to the ribbons clasping her waist. She could feel him dismissing every aspect of her—those angular elbows, the mud of her eyes.
    If he didn’t want fifty acres of farmland, he’d certainly have no need for as poor a specimen as herself.
    “I see,” he said slowly. “You’ve never known me at all.” His mouth twisted. “I’ve given lectures for you for five years running, delivering them over and over until I knew your mind better than anyone else’s. And this whole time, you’ve never bothered to return the favor.”
    “Sebastian.” She could scarcely look at him, but she couldn’t look away. His eyes were dark, his face grim.
    “I know you this well.” He took a step toward her. “I know that if I stand too close, you look for an escape. If I so much as brush your fingers…” He lifted his hand.
    She scrambled back.
    “Precisely.” He bit off the word. “Violet, you and I—we lie to each other as much as we lie to the rest of the world.”
    It was true. She felt a panic brewing in her stomach. Over the last year—she couldn’t help herself—she’d begun to feel