Heiress in Red Silk (Duke's Heiress #2) - Madeline Hunter Page 0,20
of the day. He had not been needed at Sanders’s chambers, that was clear. Perhaps she had wanted an escort because legal matters intimidated her. He decided to accept that, although he didn’t really believe it.
Her request to have a conversation revealed that perhaps she had wanted his escort for reasons besides letting that house and shop. His solution to the problem caused by the weather came without hesitation, however, even if it meant suffering his father’s interference. He embraced the notion quickly because it had seemed an easy way to continue spending time in Miss Jameson’s company.
Acknowledging that, admitting it, pushed him into silent thought for the rest of the ride. The goal, you ass, is to make her more manageable, not to make you an idiot.
She spent the time poking around in her reticule, then opened the book and turned the front pages. It was not an expensive tome, but she handled it as if it were precious. Her surprise in receiving it touched him. He guessed that she had not often received presents.
He tried not to look at her, but there she was, lovely, self-possessed, luscious. Chase had chosen the right word with that one. She could wear a dress as shapeless as those schoolgirl sacks she’d ordered for her sister and still make a man half mad. As it was, her yellow dress and pale green pelisse revealed her form despite the ensemble’s modesty. Her proximity alone had him close to a full arousal that would be difficult to hide. He began forming his thoughts in ancient Greek in order to avoid such an embarrassing development.
He really needed to conquer his inconvenient attraction to her, which promised to interfere in numerous ways. It shouldn’t be too difficult to do that, though. There were hundreds of beautiful women in London, and he rarely noticed any of them. He prided himself on not being the kind of man who wasted time or money on pointless infatuations.
They couldn’t arrive at his house fast enough for his comfort. He bounded out of the coach as soon as the footman opened the door, then handed Miss Jameson down rather than allowing the footman to do it. She had not yet put her gloves back on, and the warmth of her hand permeated his own glove, sending his thoughts where they should not go again. How annoying.
She pulled on the gloves while they walked to the door, all the while looking up at the house’s height and down its breadth. “I don’t know how you could have thought me new house big when you live in such as this.”
“This one is far too large, especially for what is often one person.” It had been purchased with many more occupants in mind. His father had anticipated a large family, only to have his wife die while giving birth to their first child.
The butler opened the door to admit them.
“I should warn you that my father is an original. Eccentric, actually.”
She opened her eyes wide. “Is he? I don’t see how that is possible when you be so conventional.” She crossed the threshold wearing a self-satisfied smile.
Kevin followed. He had warned her. If Miss Jameson thought he was eccentric, she was in for a shock.
* * *
He brought her to the library. Its size amazed her. She gazed at the massive bookcases that filled three walls. The fourth one was hung with paintings.... And something else.
She went to stand in front of ten frames enclosing rows of gray and beige moths. Each one had been labeled. It must have taken hours to collect and sort all of these. Yet, with them lined up like this, she could see the differences between them.
She felt Kevin’s presence next to her.
“Moths, not butterflies,” she said.
“Everyone has butterflies.”
She looked at the frames, then at him. She chuckled.
“You find this amusing, do you?”
“Moths? It must be quite a struggle for your guests to say something polite when they see these.” She imagined a young Kevin Radnor, serious and studious, reading off the names and explaining how this moth was different from that one. No doubt he had enjoyed the social discomfort he created. “It is all a joke, isn’t it?”
A slow smile formed. “Don’t give it away. No one else has guessed.”
“That is because your humor is too sly.”
“Not for everyone, it appears.”
She laughed and walked away. Moths.
The bookcases drew her attention. Her gaze moved over them, and the many books they held. “Are these all your father’s?”