her gaze once more distant and her posture tense. Something was clearly weighing on her. Had been for the past few weeks.
Then before he could open his mouth to speak, she spun on her heel and hastened away, a look of fierce determination lighting up her blue eyes.
Rather dumbfounded, Pierce stared after her, watching as she composed herself before once more addressing the conniving harpies. Her manner was impeccable, and her smile all but dazzled him. She seemed perfectly comported, and the way she spoke to these women held something utterly fascinating. A hint of unease rested in her blue eyes though. It immediately vanished, replaced by a smile of utter delight and relief, when one of the harpies—Lady Woodward, Pierce believed—nodded her head in what seemed like agreement.
What had happened? Pierce marveled. What had Miss Hawkins asked for? What had she quite obviously been granted? It had to be something of great importance judging by the joy that now rested on her lovely features.
And lovely they were for despite the unfortunate hair-do as well as those hideous spectacles, there was something deeply moving about the way she smiled, the way her gaze lit up. Kindness marked her features, and yet, despite the gentle softness of her face, the iron in her gaze gave him pause.
She was quite unique, his little mouse.
His eyes lingered on her as she continued to converse with London’s matrons for a little while longer, then followed her as she made her way along the back wall of the ballroom. Her features portrayed a hint of exhaustion now that the firm tension he’d seen in her posture had finally subsided. Reaching the terrace doors, she stepped outside into the cooling night air, and he could see her tip her head back as though inhaling deeply.
Determined to avoid a scandal, Pierce was relieved to find that many had ventured out onto the terrace, some even farther into the garden below, fleeing the somewhat stifling air indoors. He stepped out as well, slowly moving closer to where she stood by the stone balustrade, her hands resting on the smooth rock, eyes closed as she breathed in deeply.
“The night air is refreshing, is it not?”
At the sound of his voice beside her, his little mouse flinched. Her eyes flew open, and she spun to face him, her head dipping a fraction so she could peer at him above the rims of her spectacles.
Pierce chuckled. “It would seem your spectacles do not serve you well, my dear Miss Hawkins.”
At the informal tone in his voice, she tensed and suspicion came to her light blue eyes. “Excuse me, my lord. But have me met?” Squaring her shoulders, she lifted her chin. Her gaze held his before she purposefully pushed the spectacles up her nose.
Again, Pierce chuckled. “We’ve not been introduced if that is what you mean.”
“Then I cannot help but wonder why you would address me in such a way,” she chided, deep reproach in her voice as though he were an unruly child and not worth her time. She made to step away. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“I will not,” Pierce replied, stepping in her way and forcing her to remain where she was. He doubted she’d push him out of her way, or would she?
Drawing up short, his little mouse seemed a bit taken off guard. She masked her discomfiture quickly. Her gaze met his and held, unwavering, a challenge there. Indeed, she might be a little, grey mouse, but she was not weak-minded, not fearful, not easily intimidated.
Pierce could not deny that he liked that about her. “Do you truly need them to see?”
Her gaze narrowed, not in confusion, but in suspicion and perhaps a bit of concern. “Why have you come here, my lord?”
Glancing at the other occupants of the terrace, currently deep in conversation and not paying them any mind, Pierce moved closer, his gaze holding hers. He delighted in the way her eyes widened and her lips parted, a soft breath shuddering past as she forced herself to remain where she was and not take a step back. “To learn your secrets,” he whispered, glancing at the rapidly beating pulse in her neck. “Am I making you nervous?”
Her shoulders jerked back and her lips clamped shut. Daggers shot from her eyes, and he would not have been surprised if she’d slapped him. The desire to do so stood as clear as day in her now thundering blue eyes. “I don’t know who you think I am,