like a Regency gentleman, how to play whist, how to act out a scene from Pride and Prejudice, and how to dance.”
“Dance?” His eyebrows shot up.
Oh, crap. Didn’t I mention the grand ball? “Is dancing a deal-breaker?” I asked.
He scrunched up his nose. “I suppose the Electric Slide isn’t the type of dancing we’re talking about here.”
I tapped my pen some more and slowly shook my head. “No, it’s more like a minuet, a cotillion, a quadrille, and a waltz.”
He nearly spit his beer. “Waltz?” He pounded his fist against his chest.
“Yes, that’s the last dance on the last evening...at the grand ball.”
“Grand ball?”
“Yes.” I was beginning to think about folding up my planner, putting my pen inside the little pen holder, pushing it all back into my bag and getting the hell out of there. Why had I thought this would work?
“And the entire time I’d be dressed like I just stepped out of the early 1800s?”
“Yes.” I closed the planner. Dang it. I knew this had been too good to be true. He was already balking at the requirements.
“Which is how, exactly?” Jeremy asked.
I didn’t need to consult a list, but I did anyway, to make sure I covered everything. I flipped my planner opened again, located the turquoise flag I had stuck to the correct page, and read from the list of wardrobe choices that I’d be speaking to the tailor about. “Boots, breeches, stockings, waistcoat, shirt, overcoat, cravat.”
“Cravat?” Jeremy blew out his breath.
“It’s an old-fashioned tie.”
“Yeah, I Googled that too.”
“You did?” I eyed him carefully.
“Yep.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking hesitant.
“And what did you think?”
His mouth slowly curved into a grin. “I think I can rock a cravat.”
A wave of relief washed over me. He was into it. Or at least seemed to be. His grin was positively charming. He had slightly curly black hair, which would totally help to rock a cravat. His hair would brush against the back of his collar. Very Byron-esque. Of course, Byron was a dick, but still, the image of Jeremy in breeches and top boots and—I needed to stop thinking about it. I mustn’t get carried away. It was all fine and good to hear that he wouldn’t mind dressing up and dancing, but it was time to see if he was really made of the kind of stuff I was looking for in a partner.
“I’m glad to hear that,” I said, leaning across the table toward him. “Because I’m not just looking for someone to go with, I’m looking for someone who can win with me.”
I was sure he heard the undue emphasis on the word win. I’d never been good at sports. I’d been good at school and grades and anything to do with being smart. And I was a relentless competitor. I leveled my attention on his face. “I’ve got a lot riding on this competition.”
“Competitive, eh?”
I stared him straight in the eye. “You don’t know the half of it.”
He took another drink of his beer and leaned forward to meet my stare. “I think you’ve picked the right partner, Meg Knightley. Because I am, too.”
Chapter 7
“You’re actually into this a little, aren’t you?” I asked after the surge of excitement and adrenaline that flooded my bloodstream had subsided a little. Jeremy was competitive too. Excellent.
He shrugged. “I don’t know much about it. But I’m willing to learn.”
I narrowed my eyes on him. “You’d be competitive even about this?”
“Sure,” he replied. “I’m pretty competitive about most things. Ask your brother. He’s the only one who can beat me at poker, by the way. Dude’s like Rain Man.”
“Yeah, Luke’s always had a penchant for numbers. But the competition isn’t just whist. And whist is not exactly like playing poker.” I set aside my distaste for the fact that Jeremy obviously liked to play poker. He was Luke’s buddy. Of course he liked to play poker. Strike two against my Future Husband Checklist.
Jeremy pushed his beer glass back and forth between his hands on the table. “My dad always taught me if you’re going to do something, do it right.”
My dad had taught me that if you’re going to roll a joint (which I’d never done), you should start with the right paper. “That’s a great attitude,” I said, pushing away unwanted thoughts about my kooky parent. “I wish all my students thought like that.”
“Besides, it might be fun,” Jeremy added.
I nearly spit my Sprite. “Fun?” I choked.
He tilted his head to the side and