should move, should say something, should ignore this exceedingly uncomfortable pull that was drawing her to him.
Clearly he despised her. He wouldn’t even look at her—his gaze was focused somewhere past her shoulder. Nanny would tell her this was good for her. At that moment it felt like pure misery. “I should continue to the market. It was a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Reading,” she said, wishing she could sound as unruffled as Elinor.
Something in her voice caught his attention, and he frowned. “Surely you aren’t out alone, Miss Lydia?”
She glanced around her. Still no sign of Jacobs. “Of course not. Jacobs is somewhere behind me—it was such a beautiful day that I’m afraid I was a bit too exuberant in my walking, and I lost him. I’m certain he’ll catch up with me by the time I reach the market.” She held out her hand. “Good afternoon, Mr. Reading.”
He took her hand, but didn’t release it. “I’ll accompany you to the market, if you’ll permit me.”
“There’s no need…”
“I’d be remiss in my duties as a gentleman if I allowed you’d to continue alone,” he said in that polite, distant voice. “A young lady as beautiful as you shouldn’t be traveling alone. I would be desolate if anything happened to you.”
Flirtation by rote. She couldn’t manage Elinor’s icy smile either, though she could try. “There’s no need to pretend you have any interest in me, Mr. Reading. I realize I’m not to your particular taste, though you say all the right things. I do assure you there’s no need to accompany me—I’ve been to the market on my own or with Jacobs any number of times and nothing untoward has happened. If you’ll release my hand…”
She tugged, but he tightened his grip, and beneath the brim of his hat she could see his smile. “Does everyone fall at your feet, Miss Lydia?”
“In truth, everyone but you, Mr. Reading,” she said ruefully. “Nanny says I’m vain, but I’m not. It’s simply an accident of birth that I’m pretty. It’s no great accomplishment on my part. My mother was pretty, and knowing her, I expect my father was as well. So people smile on me, and men flirt with me. Except for you, Mr. Reading.”
He tucked her hand under his arm, starting forward, and she had no choice but to fall into step beside him. “I flirt with you, Miss Lydia,” he said easily. “If you haven’t recognized it as such I must have become suddenly gauche, and I do beg your pardon. I will endeavor to improve my skills. Shall I tell you how exquisite your golden curls are? Your delicate British complexion? That you move so gracefully angels would weep in jealousy, that your smile brightens every encounter? A sonnet, perhaps?
‘Miss Lydia’s eyes
Are something divine
A delicate prize
’Twill never be mine.’”
“I don’t think much of that,” she said frankly. “It sounds as if you want my eyes gouged from my head and placed on a pillow. Or a plate,” she added.
Reading made a muffled sound, which in someone else she might have thought was a laugh smothered by a cough. “I’m afraid that most of my instant poetic efforts tend toward deliberately obscene doggerel, composed for the entertainment of one’s drinking partners. If you want a true sonnet you’ll have to wait while I write it down. I wouldn’t want to give you less than your due.”
Each flirtatious remark seemed forced, but he still kept her arm captured, his hand on hers, pressing against his forearm, and for some reason she still felt as if she were dancing on air. She tilted her face up to the sunshine, drinking it in. “I give you leave to stop flirting, Mr. Reading. I still don’t believe you. Tell me about Lord Rohan. Is he in much pain?”
She could feel the tension in the muscles beneath her hand. “I would suggest, Miss Lydia, that you cast your gaze elsewhere. Lord Rohan is naught but trouble, and he’s moved his gaze beyond pretty virgins such as you.”
“He’s interested in my sister, is he not? Isn’t she a pretty virgin?” If he disparaged Elinor she would happily hit him with her empty basket.
“You know as well as I do that your sister is far more than pretty.”
“Indeed she is,” she said, pleased with him after all. “And I do assure you, I’m not as shallow and vain as you appear to think me.”
“I do not think you shallow or vain,” he said in a