The dark gaze abruptly rose. “Clearly you have a fortune to lavish upon yourself. Why would you choose to sew your gowns as if you were a pauper?”
Simone determinedly kept her features expressionless. She had managed to keep her lack of a modiste a secret since coming to London. She could not allow all her efforts to be ruined now.
“It is a task I enjoy.”
He dismissed her words with an elegant wave of his hand. “I do not doubt you enjoy the task, you are very talented, but that does not explain why you would willingly perform such a menial chore. Ladies such as yourself are very careful to maintain the image of utter leisure.”
Her jaw set at his unwelcome probing. Unlike most decent people she encountered he would not be bound by common manners. She was uncertain that he possessed any manners, common or otherwise.
“What I do with my own time is no one’s concern but my own, surely?”
“What is it you hide, Simone?” he demanded softly.
“Hide? I have nothing to hide.” She regarded him with a challenging gaze. “You are the one who wraps yourself in mystery.”
He regarded her for a long moment before his gaze deliberately narrowed.
“I will have the truth from you eventually.”
Simone refused to acknowledge the faint shiver of warning that feathered over her skin. Nothing short of death would ever make her confess her past. Nothing.
“Why are you here?” she said in clipped tones.
As if sensing she had firmly dug in her heels, Gideon favored her with a lift of his brows, but thankfully followed her lead.
“I wished to make amends.”
Simone couldn’t prevent her startled blink. He wished to apologize? She would have thought the sun would tumble from the sky first.
“For what precisely?” she demanded. “Intruding into my home without warning? Attempting to terrify me with vague threats of danger only you can protect me from? Or arrogantly presuming I desire you?”
Not surprisingly her taunts made not the slightest impression in his cool composure. She was uncertain what it would possibly take to actually ruffle this man.
Absently toying with the heavy gold ring he wore upon a slender finger, he strolled toward her.
“I do not consider my occasional visits as intrusions and I assure you that the danger that surrounds you is very real. And as for my arrogance”—he gave a lift of one broad shoulder—“there is nothing arrogant in the truth.”
She rolled her eyes heavenward. “You are impossible.”
“Ah, but I have not yet finished. I do regret leaving you so abruptly at the ball and again last evening. It was most inconsiderate of me.”
Simone opened her mouth to readily agree he had been inconsiderate. She was unaccustomed to gentlemen who willingly abandoned her with such disregard. Then, the realization that she would be revealing the fact that she had been injured by his careless manner halted the impulsive words. Instead she forced a bland smile to her lips.
“Did you leave abruptly? How odd. To be honest, I hardly noticed.”
“You did not notice?” An unmistakable hint of amusement smoldered in the dark eyes.
“No.” She paused before curiosity overcame her pride. “Although I am intrigued of this duty you spoke of. I suppose it is dreadfully important?”
“A tedious business that would not interest you. Besides, at the moment, my only duty is devoting a few hours to a beautiful woman,” he retorted with smooth charm.
Her lips thinned. She wondered if she would ever learn anything of the man beneath his cool sophistication.
Or why it was so important that she should.
“That is no answer.”
He glanced toward the forgotten ball gown upon the table. “It is as good an answer as why you choose to make your own gowns.”