“Did I ruin you?” She lowered her gaze as her brow furrowed. “It seems I may have.”

Could a man be ruined? Probably, but it took a great deal of effort, especially for an earl. “I established my reputation long before you came along.”

She looked up at him once more. “But you’ve been trying to rehabilitate it, and I ruined your efforts.”

“Did Evie tell you that?” He saw the confusion in her eyes and added, “Mrs. Renshaw, I mean.”

“It’s important that I understand the consequences of my thoughtless actions, which I now do. I’m so sorry.”

He could see her remorse, could feel it coming off her in waves—so much so that he was tempted to take her in his arms and console her. Which would be the worst idea in the history of ideas. “What should I do with you?” He asked that question of her as much as of himself.

“I promise I will be a model young lady going forward.”

“You think I should allow you to continue with your Season? I was of a mind to insist you wed immediately.”

She nodded. “I understand, and I will work to that end so that I am no longer a burden to you.”

He flinched. “You aren’t a burden.”

“I was today.”

He couldn’t argue with that. While he may not be ruined, she’d made his objective of finding a wife much more difficult.

“I would do anything to go back and not do what I did.”

The kiss exploded in his mind. But she likely didn’t mean that. “Go to the club?”

“Well, that too.” Faint swathes of pink swept up her cheeks. “I was referring to kissing you. I don’t know why I did that. I just felt bad, and it seemed the right thing to do.”

The right thing… How could that be possible? She was his ward, and he was responsible for her well-being, for her future.

He looked at her mouth then, at the plump curve of her lips, and recalled how she’d felt in his arms. An overwhelming urge to take her against him once more came over him. The right thing indeed. “It can’t happen again.” His voice sounded rough.

Taking a step back from her, he exhaled some of the frustration from his body. Sexual frustration, if he were honest with himself. Deciding honesty was overrated, he attributed the tension to the impact of today’s events on his marriage plans. He was running out of time.

“Go upstairs now,” he said. “And stay there until tomorrow.” He sounded autocratic and obnoxious, like his bloody father, but he needed to. However their relationship had changed today, he had to get them back to where they needed to be—he was her guardian, and she was his ward.

“I get to stay?”

“Apparently. Don’t make me regret my decision.”

“I won’t. Thank you.” She turned to go but hesitated at the door. Looking back over her shoulder, she said, “I really am sorry. If there’s anything I can do to help you, I hope you’ll let me.”