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Summary
It was a misstep on Neuvillette’s part.
He couldn’t ever have imagined that between his daydreams and reality, he had leaned in and pressed his lips against those of the Duke. Just the smallest taste of honey and dark tea, a hint of a gasp and then— Neuvillette’s pulling away, ducking under the Duke’s arm.
“Neuvillette—” Wriothesley had reached out, catching the edge of his sleeve.
Neuvillette’s panic had risen, his hand twisting in the grasp and slipping out of the grasp to take a couple of desperate steps away. Wriothesley’s taste had lingered on his lips, imparting his warmth, “Say not a word!” He raises his voice, a little louder than necessary for polite conversation, “I wasn’t… That wasn’t…”