her eyes, remained warm. “It’s such a lovely afternoon that it seemed a shame to spend it indoors.”
“You mustn’t let my mother find out. You’ll give her the vapors.”
Her smile grew. “She does believe a lady must rest. I never nap at home and don’t seem to suffer for it in the evenings.” She tilted her head a fraction, like a puppy striving to figure out its master. “You didn’t join us for breakfast or luncheon.”
“I had some matters to attend to and dined at the club. May I?” He indicated the empty half of the bench.
“Please.” Reaching out, she tucked her voluminous skirt against her thigh as much as possible while he lowered himself to the cool metal, not bothering to lean away from her.
The bench had been designed for lovers to take a rest while strolling through the gardens, so it placed him nearer to her than he’d ever been. The slight breeze caused her clean fragrance of delicious oranges—his favorite fruit—mixed with cinnamon to tease his nostrils. A few strands of her hair had escaped their bondage of ribbons in order to frame her delicate face. She didn’t look at him directly but offered a little bit more than her profile. He wished he was skilled at sketching. Instead he was left to commit the lovely image of her to memory. “What are you writing?”
With a sigh, she gave him a sideways glance while her cheeks blossomed into a pinkish hue. “I’ve been striving to catalogue my good qualities.”
“Ah, for your letter to the duke.” The blasted duke, the man who would know what it was to have her thigh pressed against his with no tightly woven threads to keep her silken warmth from him.
She nodded, her cheeks brightening further, until they were possibly in danger of igniting. “It’s a sobering experience. I believe I’ve identified the reason I find myself close to being on the shelf. I’m rather unaccomplished and boring.”
I very much doubt that. But he was beginning to understand she was much more modest than he’d ever assumed, and he found her modesty somewhat endearing. He doubted any other lady was struggling to list her accomplishments, suspected a good many of them would take liberties listing what they considered their best qualities. A skill at dancing they might not possess. A tendency toward wit and humor when nothing they ever said caused even a hint of a smile. Perfect management of a household when they’d yet to take any reins. He held out his hand. “May I?”
She rolled her eyes with an exaggeration that would have had him taking his leave at any other time. “You’ll only laugh or tease me about them.”
For the life of him, he couldn’t comprehend why he cared so much about what she’d written, why it was suddenly important that she gained what she desired. “I won’t. I promise.”
Shifting slightly, she faced him more squarely, the small pleat between her auburn brows once again forming. “Why are you being kind to me? I’m accustomed to us sparring, not actually conversing.”
Devil take him if he knew, but he wasn’t about to confess that. “Because the next time I return home after too much drink, I don’t want you tempted to send me round to the back. I’d prefer you help me up the stairs.”
“You remembered everything?”
“Everything.” The mischief in her eyes, the slight smile indicating she thought she was getting away with something wicked. He rather liked how triumphant she’d appeared when she’d believed herself to have the upper hand.
Her sigh mingled with the whisper of the slight breeze, and a jolt of pure need traveled straight to his groin as he envisioned her sigh under a different circumstance, a carnal one where pleasure reigned. “I feel rather badly about my behavior toward you now.”
“Only because you got caught.”
A twitch of those pink lips. So much about her was fair. He wondered if the same applied to portions he couldn’t see.
“Yes.”
For a moment, he became disoriented, thinking she was confirming pale nipples and the pinkest of skin between her thighs. The next breath he released was not as steady as it should have been. “Well, for what it’s worth, neither my parents nor Althea would have let me in, either.”
“Do you often get that drunk?”
“Not often. I’d had a disappointing night at the gaming hell and was feeling both sorry for myself and cross with myself. Bad judgment on my part led to the disappointment. Last night went much better.