Sawyer stood in the doorway to the library, appreciating the way Lady Blair continued to bite her lip as she paged through some bloody ginormous book.

He also appreciated the way that she was wearing a dress. There were no trousers to drive a man insane today.

Well, at least for now anyway.

"Are you waiting until I grant you permission to enter, or why are you standing there all adrift?" Lady Blair droned the words, not even bothering to look up at Sawyer.

He cleared his throat, feeling a twinge of uncharacteristic embarrassment for the way she called him out so. But he quickly shook it off.

"Naturally, I was waiting for your permission," Sawyer drawled while he forced a smirk.

"Hmm," Blair muttered beneath her breath. "I do not grant it:"

Sawyer's lips drew into a thin line.

He had not expected that.

He should have expected that.

Ignoring her, he walked into the room regardless, and Lady Blair's head popped up. Her brow rose, and it was her turn to smirk. She'd known he was going to do that.

Sawyer scowled. For some reason, he could not stay ahead of this woman.

Clearing his throat, Sawyer said, "I spent most of yesterday afternoon reading Great Expectations, and it was not, in fact, great."

"Excuse me?" Lady Blair said, her smirk falling a tad. But then she dismissed him, peering back down at her book. "How absurd. Of course it is great."

Sawyer made himself comfortable in an available armchair and opened his mouth to dispute the topic when a frazzled looking Simon appeared in the door.

"Ah! Viscount Payne," Blair said with an annoying amount of enthusiasm. "Please do come in."

Sawyer glared at the lady.

Simon, however, did not even glance toward Blair. He did not even seem to hear her, either. His eyes were trained specifically on Sawyer, and they were flaring bright.  "I cannot believe you would do that." Simon stormed into the room, and soon his hands were wrapped around Sawyer's cravat, yanking him to his feet.

"What the devil?" Sawyer shoved him off. "Do what?"

Simon pushed at Sawyer's chest, making him fall back into his armchair, and Sawyer thought he did not care for this literal push and pull.

"Kiss Whitley!" Simon hissed.

Right.

Sawyer leaned to the left, swiftly dodging Simon's fist as it hit the cushions instead of his face.

Somewhere in the background, Blair's gasp cut through Simon's panting. God only knew how far his brother had stormed to get here or how many rooms he'd searched before finding Sawyer.

"Would you mind avoiding the face with that mighty swing of yours?" Sawyer grumbled, and though Simon did, indeed, cease his assaults, he looked like he wanted nothing more than to crack Sawyer's nose.

Sawyer thought about that, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he did. Then he scratched his head and muttered, "I knew there was a reason I had meant to speak with you this morning."

Sawyer had honestly forgotten about the kiss already. It had been a nice kiss. He'd tried his damndest to make it a nice kiss, anyway. Otherwise it wouldn't have been effective. Had it been effective? He looked to his brother, who was fuming.

Perhaps it hadn't been effective. Sawyer frowned.

"And how was the lady this morning? Was she...receptive to you?"

Simone stared blankly down at him. "She was—well, I—yes, she—" He couldn't seem to find the right words, but it was in a way that told Sawyer all he needed to know.

"Capital. So she was?"

"Perhaps yes, but—"

"You're welcome, of course."

"Sawyer!" Simon yelled. "You cannot just go about kissing women who are under the impression that you are me."

"Oh come off it, Si! She made an honest mistake, and I was going to correct her, but then she started blabbing about starting over and looking up at me with those big blue eyes, and I made the move that I knew you never would. I was doing you a favor, honestly."

"You actually kissed her," Lady Blair deadpanned, causing Simon to twist toward her. His eyes widened in a way that suggested he hadn't even realized Blair was in here.

"You wished for their relationship to blossom, did you not?" Sawyer said to Blair, and her eyes shot daggers at him. "I thought you, of all people, would be pleased, Lady Blair. You wanted me to help Simon along, and I have."

Simon narrowed his eyes at Blair now. "You," he said, pointing a finger at her, "have been scheming with him?" His finger turned to Sawyer.

"I had no part in—in—"

Sawyer rolled his eyes.  "It was just a kiss, Lady Blair. You needn't have conniptions."

Simon threw his hands in the air. "What am I to tell, Whitley?"

"Nothing at all!" Sawyer cried. Was that not obvious? That would undoubtedly ruin the entire point.

"Oh, like hell." Simon drew his fingers through his hair. Then he shook his finger at Sawyer again. "If it wasn't for the presence of a lady, I'd be kicking your ass right now."

Sawyer snorted. "Okay, brother."

"Oh, do not let me hold you back," Blair tutted, looking back down at her book.

But Simon was already fleeing, mumbling beneath his breath, cursing Sawyer a million ways.

Perhaps Simon was upset at present, but it sounded to Sawyer as though his plan actually worked quite well. So Sawyer simply shrugged.

"You are unbelievable." Lady Blair was shaking her head, refusing to even glance at Sawyer. But then her dark gaze jerked up. "You were supposed to help your brother flirt with Whitley, not do it for him!"

"You are making a bigger deal of it than it is, Blair."

She made a little noise in the back of her throat and looked away once more. "It is Lady Blair to you."

Sawyer rolled his eyes...again.

"It was just an innocent little kiss, Lady Blair."

The damn woman huffed beneath her breath as she stood and turned toward the bookshelf. She busied herself there, pulling out book after book without so much as even reading their titles.

Sawyer cocked his head to the side.

"Just why, precisely, does it bother you so?"

"Because you have...you have manipulated my sister," she threw over her shoulder.

"Well, it rather sounded as though she was manipulating my brother, so it is all quite moot."

Blair answered him in a low voice. "You are a ridiculously callous man, Sawyer Pearce."

"Am not," he argued. "I am merely practical. I see a means to an end, and I take it."

"Same difference," Blair muttered.

"You know, I did not expect for you to be so...emotional." Sawyer shuddered. "I would have wagered you'd be of the same thinking as I, my lady."

"Well, I did not expect for you to leave our afternoon games yesterday to simply go find and kiss my sister!"

"This is not quite how it went—wait." Sawyer stood. He crossed the room, going to stand behind her. Her back stiffened as she heard him approach. "Lady Blair?"

"Yes?"

She turned slowly. But apparently she hadn't expected Sawyer to be quite so close. The lady backed abruptly into the bookshelf, leaning her hands on the ledges behind her. Her dress was of a deep burgundy that offset her hair in a lovely way. It cut across her shoulders, but the way she was standing made the fabric pull tightly on that bodice of hers. Sawyer sucked in a breath. Then he took another step toward her.

"I am sorry," he muttered lowly, "if it upset you that I left the game yesterday."

"I said nothing of the sort," Blair sputtered, her bright eyes shifting away from him.

Sawyer forced himself to shove his hands into his pockets lest he did something foolish like touch the infuriating woman. But still, his body swayed forward a little, and Blair's gaze finally flicked up to meet his. Sawyer's lips tilted. "You did not have to, Lady Blair."

Sawyer wasn't even certain if she had heard him. She didn't utter a word in reply. The only sound in the room was the soft breathing between them. His smirk grew as he rested on hand on the bookshelf beside her.

Finally, Blair shook her head and snapped, "Stop trying to distract me with your attempts at flirtation, Sawyer."

Sawyer laughed. But then his voice dropped again as he said, "This isn't flirting. I've barely even uttered a word."

And then Blair surprised him, taking a step forward, pushing off the ledge of the bookshelf. Her eyes didn't dare leave Sawyer's face. She'd captured his gaze, and he didn't know how to escape. "You did not have to," she breathed, repeating his words.

A rustle of skirts alerted them to a visitor in the doorway.

Whitley.

"Simon?" The hurt in her eyes was evident as she looked between Sawyer and Blair. And for a minute, Sawyer felt some success for his brother. But then Whitley went on without letting Sawyer correct her... again.

"So this...this is why you needed to run off, is it?" She was nearly breathless. "I see."

And then she spun around on her heel.

"Lady Whitley!" Sawyer called, trying to stop her. The words were simultaneous with Blair's calling of, "Whit!"

But Lady Whitley had already fled, and she had no intention of returning any time soon. That much was clear.

And Sawyer was left pondering if they ought to look into pinning name cards to their waistcoats.

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