didn’t bother her. That would be silly. And it wasn’t that she’d donned the frock with him in mind, per se.
But she had caught him admiring an amber-gold glass figurine the day before, and thought he might be partial to the color.
Now that she thought about it… perhaps he’d been admiring the shape of the nude woman the statue depicted, and not its shade at all.
“What color shall you wear to the ball tonight?” Bainbridge asked down at her. “I own every shade of buttonhole and tiepin, and should like to complement your gown.”
“Oh, um… It’s a gentle sort of color… not gold, not silver, not ivory… nor is it pink.”
He let out a silken laugh that bared his even, white teeth. “Well, now that I know what it’s not, I’m more intrigued than ever.”
“It’s a sort of diaphanous color, like champagne.”
“And here you make a liar of me,” he winked. “When I said I had every color, I forgot about champagne. I’ll have to see what I can do on such short notice.”
She cast him a conciliatory glance from beneath her lashes. “I’m sorry for being difficult.”
“Think nothing of it.” He nudged her affectionally. “Speaking of difficult, you usually bring Mrs. Winterton along to these sorts of outings, do you not?”
Felicity winced in sympathy. “She is suffering the gastric effects of a poorly cooked fish stew.”
His pout was meant to seem affected, but she thought there was some genuine disappointment in the gesture. “Poor thing. I was rather looking forward to her disapproving frown, icy glare, and scorching condemnation.”
At that, Felicity smothered a giggle with her silk glove. “Oh, it’s not so bad as all that. Mrs. Winterton barely approves of me. It’s why she was hired, I think. Father liked nothing so much as a censorious person. And she’s been ever so much kindlier since his passing.”
“Yes, but I’ve often wondered why you keep her? Especially now that you have this strapping barbarian who’s almost half as frightening as she is.” He chuckled at his own joke.
Felicity had to be very careful not to check over her shoulder to ascertain if the strapping barbarian in question had taken offense.
“Mr. Severand is employed for my safety, not my companionship, and Mrs. Winterton reminds me of Mercy, so I can’t help but like her very much. We’re more friends than we are employer and staff.”
“You have to be careful of that,” he cautioned with a wry smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You let someone like that get close, and they’ll take you for everything you have.”
That drew her brows together. Bainbridge had always been a bit caustic, but she’d not known him to be so cynical.
“How many times should I dance at the ball with you?” he asked, levity returning to his manner as if he’d summoned it from thin air.
Felicity chewed on the inside of her lip, wondering if Bainbridge was every bit as wicked as he seemed, or much, much worse. She enjoyed his company always, but questioned if he was like this even when alone.
When no one was there to watch his spectacle.
“You know as well as I that dancing with me more than once would make a statement of intention…”
“And what do you think about that?” he pressed gently.
Her step faltered a bit, and she brushed it off as if checking her shoe for a flaw. “A statement? Are you implying you want to make one? But we’re not… and you’re…”
“Old?” His lips twisted into a rueful sort of smirk.
“I wasn’t going to say that,” she rushed to placate his feelings. “I mean, you are quite twenty years my elder, but I was more thinking about how a connection might come across as a bit… incestuous, you being my cousin and all.”
“Second cousin,” he corrected. “And I know that’s fallen out of fashion these days, but we needn’t even produce an heir if you’re not inclined. I merely thought that since your father’s title and certain lands passed to me upon his death, so, too, might your delightful self. Furthermore, you mentioned in the past, you’d like to find a way to keep the holdings together.”
“I-I did, but…”
“Oh!” Bainbridge lifted a hand and waved enthusiastically at a group of gentlemen. “Pardon me, dear Felicity, I see a scoundrel with whom I must have a word. I’m going to leave you in the hands of this fellow for no longer than it takes for a kettle to whistle.”