Living London - By Kristin Vayden Page 0,11
Yet, on the other hand, I was afraid I’d make a fool of myself. Indecision warred for a moment before my curiosity won out. I glanced up. Wains gazed at me patiently until I nodded.
"Very well, I'll show him into the blue parlor."
As Wains turned to leave, I remembered I needed directions, or I'd be opening up doors for a week before I found the blue parlor. "Wains! Where is the blue parlor? Could you please show me or give me directions or something?"
It was humbling asking for directions in my own home, but on the other hand, it was quite impressive to need directions in one's own home because it was that grand. The pride and humility balanced each other out as I followed my tall, thin, and austere butler to the correct room. I settled myself down on the soft settee. Nervously, I crossed my legs then uncrossed them, folding one ankle behind the other, and waited. My fingers tapped with anxious energy, but I stopped my fidgeting just as the door opened.
Wains allowed the Marquess to enter first, and I glanced down to his boots as they thumped solidly on hardwood floors.
The boots were a glossy black that contrasted with the tight pants that he wore. Though I had always been an activist against the boys-wearing-girl's-jeans movement, I had to admit he filled them out well, and there was nothing feminine about it. Forcing my gaze away from his muscular legs, I noticed his shirt was blindingly white in contrast to his fitted jacket and perfectly tied cravat. I inwardly grinned to myself at his dress. I had often wondered what a cravat looked like on a gentleman the many times I'd read about it in a book. Now I knew, and it was more than appealing.
It was a good thing I'd noticed his clothes first. After seeing his face I doubt I'd ever notice anything else ever again. Dark eyelashes framed piercing blue eyes, hooded by an arched eyebrow straight out of photos of New York's fashion week. His lips were full, and the lines around his face gave me the impression that he smiled a lot. His dark chestnut-brown hair was longer than I'd expected—in fact, it was actually quite similar to the style I had recently seen around back home, in my time. The style reminded me of Tom Brady’s hair just before he cut it. As I regarded him, I assumed him to be no older than thirty, but no younger than twenty-five. The broad stretch of his shoulders and the muscular build apparent even through his immaculate clothing were far to masculine and developed for him to be any younger. My lips bent in a grin. Too bad I was unconscious when he carried me home. He was gorgeous, the perfect mix of boy-next-door and tall, dark, and handsome. A sigh escaped my lips before I could stop it.
His eyes twinkled as he took in my cataloging of his striking presence. My cheeks heated, and I stood up and held out my hand, then pulled it back quickly. People don't shake hands like that! So I bowed, but that felt wrong too. Curtsey!
My ballet training came rushing back, and I dropped a quick curtsey, then sat back down and hoped he hadn't noticed my inability to properly welcome him in the most basic way. His mouth twitched, and he looked like he was trying to prevent a smile at my expense. "Oh, forget it," I mumbled to myself. "I did that wrong, didn't I?"
At my shy confession, he burst into a laugh that I couldn't help but join. The fullness of his mirth rumbled in the room and my belly stirred in attraction. He even had a sexy laugh. Be still my beating heart.
"No, my lady, you were the epitome of grace. It is I who should bow to you and accept your hand should you offer it." His grin faltered. "That is, your hand hand, not marriage, because, well, women don't ask for men's hands in marriage. It's the other way around, and well, I mean to say…" He trailed off, his cheeks getting redder and redder as he fumbled over his words. Gone was the laughter of a moment ago, and I enjoyed the reversal of roles. It was refreshing after the havoc of the past day.
Unable to allow his embarrassment to continue, I threw caution to the wind and stood up, moving over to him and holding out my