She didn’t finish the sentence, as if Kit could draw his own conclusions. Yet he didn’t understand the mother-daughter relationship between these two. “If you are not there, then what?”

Alice slid off his lap and smoothed her skirts. He instantly felt the loss of her warm, soft curves. “She’ll assume I am up to no good. Which means she will never let me out of her sight again during this house party.”

“But you are up to no good,” he couldn’t help but point out, his mouth fixed with a smirk.

“Stop annoying me, you devil. Now, do I look a mess?”

She looked fetching and utterly delectable, but her skirts were slightly rumpled and wisps of hair fell in her face. He would be remiss as a clandestine lover if he didn’t point them out. “Come.”

Rising, he brought her into his washroom. Wetting his hands, he smoothed her hair back in place, then used a tiny touch of pomade to hold it. “Better. Let me fix your skirts.”

“Why? Are they horribly creased?” She tried to spin and look over her shoulder, like a dog trying to chase its own tail.

“Stop. I’ll do it.” Dropping to one knee, he reached for her skirts . . . then paused. “I’ll need to start with the petticoats, Alice.”

She shook her head and started tugging fabric. “No, merely pull the outer skirt down.”

He didn’t wish to tell her how much experience he had with ladies’ clothing, but he was absolutely certain her idea wouldn’t work. Stilling her hands, he asked, “Do you trust me?”

Though her eyes were wild with panic, she nodded. “Of course. Would I be standing in your washroom if I didn’t?”

Fair point. “Then let me help you.”

She bit her lip and released her skirts. “All right.”

He reached under the layers of silk and cotton, trying to avoid touching her stocking-covered leg. As much as he’d like to learn every detail of what Alice hid under her skirts, he wouldn’t disrespect her with an uninvited grope. When he found the petticoat, he held it and lifted the other layers up to her. “Here, hold these.”

A blush covered her face and throat, but she didn’t speak as she took the cloth.

Kit worked quickly, smoothing and evening out the plain cotton. When he finished, he took the next layer, a stiffer and fancier petticoat, out of her hands, and evened it out. This was what would give her dress the bell-shaped curve that was all the rage nowadays. Then he straightened the outer skirt. “There. Almost as good as new.”

“Am I still wrinkled?”