Heiress in Red Silk (Duke's Heiress #2) - Madeline Hunter Page 0,55

an actual seduction was being contemplated by him.

Kevin had asked, while he arranged for transport, whether she wanted her own carriage. Being practical, it had seemed a stupid waste of money not to share one.

Within the first hour she had realized why it was not proper for women to travel alone with men. Even the most spacious carriage grew intimate over time. The space within might have accommodated shorter people better, but she was taller than most and his height meant his legs were always there, close to hers, intruding. In fact, after she had scooted over several times, it seemed to her that he deliberately sprawled in a way that imprisoned her against the window.

She might have suffered that as mere rudeness, but it was right then that he emerged from whatever thoughts had occupied him thus far and turned his intense attention on her. In the best of times that was disconcerting but cramped in that carriage his scrutiny felt relentless. It got much worse when he voiced his thoughts.

“How old are you?” he asked. “I’m guessing perhaps two and twenty.”

“You guessed wrong. I am almost twenty-four.”

She received a small frown for that. “Then you have been living independently for some years.”

With that his curiosity became annoying. “I was in service up until fairly recently.” She glared down at his legs. “I realize coaches are not built for men of your size, but you are taking more than your share of this one. Would you kindly move your knee?”

With a faint smile, he rearranged his limbs.

“How long until we reach Paris?” she asked.

“It will be evening when we arrive.... So you were in service, then opened your shop in Richmond?”

She could all but hear him doing calculations. “In between, I worked for a milliner in the City.”

“Then you have lived independently for two years or so.”

If she had known that Paris was a whole day’s journey from the coast, she might have hired her own conveyance so she could be spared this interrogation.

“Why are you asking me these questions? Are you still worried about some fortune hunter turning my head?”

“Fortune hunters will be interested no matter your age. You could be sixty and they would still dance attendance.”

In that case, perhaps he was just bored. Apparently he had run out of brilliant ideas to contemplate. When he did not seem inclined to talk further, she retreated with relief into thoughts of Charles, and the anticipation of their reunion. After all these years, she tried to imagine seeing him again. He would look a bit older, of course, but she didn’t expect any significant changes. He would greet her with a hard embrace and deep kiss, then laugh with happiness. She could imagine his broad smile and sparkling eyes while he looked at her running into his arms—

“I am trying to decide if you are an innocent.”

His calm statement put an abrupt end to her fantasy. “If I am a—Excuse me?”

“You asked why I was asking about your independence. That is the reason.” He looked over, as calm as could be. “And are you?”

“I can see why your family finds you so hard to bear. What a question to ask! Rude, inappropriate—”

“It is a very simple question.” He settled his head against the back cushion. “The entire idea that there are topics a man can’t discuss with a woman is ridiculous. One wonders who came up with these stupid rules. Probably women like my aunts.”

“More likely women like me who find them far too personal.”

“You only thought it too personal because you thought your answer would put you in a bad light, when in truth you merely confirmed my own conclusion, and in no way changed my opinion of you.”

He closed his eyes and folded his arms then, presumably to return to whatever else filled his head this day.

“I have not confirmed your conclusion because I did not answer your question,” she said.

“Of course, you did.” His eyes opened halfway and he looked at her through the slits. “If you were still an innocent, you would have said so. ‘How dare you suggest I am not, sir.’ Something like that. ‘I am unmarried. Of course, I am untouched. You are an inexcusable rogue to imply otherwise.’ Or, perhaps, ‘To address such a subject is beyond indelicate and an insult. I must demand you leave this carriage and ride up with the coachman.’”

She felt her face growing hotter with each response she had not given. Perhaps he saw that, because