She did a quick calculation then dove out the window, pulling her knees in so when she landed on the awning she would roll easily to the edge. She held her breath for the free fall and felt the air whoosh out of her when she hit the fabric.
But she didn’t roll.
“I don’t care how beautiful or rich or bloody socially acceptable she is,” Dominic said, turning fiercely from the drawing-room mantel. “I am not marrying her.”
He dipped his tongue between her lips and met her tongue with his. The effect was electric. She jumped beneath him, and the shot of arousal he felt was all but dizzying. He knew he must stop. This was a gentlewoman, the niece of Lord Melbourne. He could not kiss her this way.
She thought she remembered Q saying to wait a quarter of an hour. Perhaps it had been three-quarters of an hour? Oh, bollocks! Jane did not have time to waste. She would go and hope for the best. Nine out of ten of Q’s inventions worked.
Jane stood at her window and looked down at the drop. Please let this be one of the nine.
“Are you implying I am not a lady?” She took a menacing step toward him, and though he did not retreat, she thought she saw a flicker of concern in his eyes. “A piece of advice, Mr. Griffyn. A gentleman never even hints that a woman is not a lady, no matter what insult she has given you.”
His brow arched. “I believe we’ve already established I am no gentleman.”
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