Except for the spying bit.” He snapped his fingers. “Show me what you’ve written.”
With a slow, tentative movement, she handed him the sheaf of paper.
Skilled at whist.
Mastered the pianoforte.
Speak only when I have something important to say.
The first two he couldn’t judge because he’d never played cards with her or heard her perform. The last was debatable and no doubt her attempt to demonstrate that she could be quiet, although she often engaged him when what she had to say wasn’t important at all—just a desire to needle, to elicit a reaction. He’d always been too quick to rise to the bait, mainly because any attention from her was better than none at all. But reading over her list again now, he knew no matter how she worded what she had identified as her strengths, the duke was going to toss her letter in the rubbish bin. Griff had guessed correctly. A woman couldn’t identify what attributes she possessed that would appeal to a man. “He wants quiet in a wife. He’s not going to play whist with you. He’s not going to ask you to entertain him with the pianoforte.”
He couldn’t help but believe that in foregoing those pleasures with her, the duke would be poorer for it. “That you’ve written two qualities in which he’ll have no interest makes him likely to question the veracity of the third.”
“What would you suggest, then?”
“What are you willing to give me in exchange for my wisdom?”
“You blackguard.” The teasing in her eyes caused a tightness in his chest. She’d known he’d want a favor. Contentment at her knowing him well enough to anticipate his move swept through him. “At the duke’s ball, I shall save my first waltz for you.”
“You expect me to wait a couple of weeks to claim what I am owed?”
“Anticipation will make it all the sweeter.”
He attended few balls, had never danced with her. He imagined holding her in his arms, gliding her over the floor. Damned bloody hell, if it wasn’t something he’d like to experience once. “Pay close attention to what I am about to reveal. It is a rare thing for any man to give away secrets that would see another shackled in marriage.”
Her triumphant smile rocked him to his core. “You’re accepting the trade?”
He gave a little shrug, as though the matter was of no consequence, as though he wasn’t in fact looking forward to claiming his reward. “It’ll give me an excuse to learn the waltz.”
“You know how to waltz. I’ve seen you do so.”
Taking satisfaction in knowing she had noticed him at a previous ball, he hoped he heard the tiniest bit of jealousy. “Have you?”
She plucked at her skirt as though she’d suddenly spotted an invisible thread unraveling. “You’re the brother of my dearest friend. It’s not as though I’m not going to notice you on the dance floor.”
“But you never acknowledge me on the dance floor.”
She looked at him then, remorse in the eyes that were almost blue today. He’d noticed before how the hazel shade seemed to alter slightly depending on what she wore. “I’ve found it sometimes easier to ignore when not certain of the welcome.”
“I might tease you on occasion, Freckles, but I would never do anything to embarrass you in public. You must know that, surely.”
“I do now.”
For the longest time, they only looked at each other, as though they were weighing words, confessions, interest, vulnerabilities. She was the first to glance away, licking her lips as she did so, causing a tightness low in his belly that might have dropped him to his knees had he been standing. Had she always possessed this power over him, tantalized and seduced with so little effort? Or did knowing she was in pursuit of another serve to awaken him to the notion that he’d like her to be in pursuit of him?
But through marriage to him, she could not gain what she coveted. He cleared his throat. “Pay attention, sweetheart, and be astonished by my wisdom.”
She bestowed upon him the most beautiful, unpretentious smile he’d ever received from her. Warm and generous, it was the sort for which men launched ships. “You are so frightfully conceited.”
He heard no censure, only a bit of playful teasing, not the caustic tone fraught with disapproval that she’d always tossed his way in the past. “You shouldn’t complain. You’re about to benefit from my superior knowledge.”
“Impress me, then. Tell me what I must write to win the duke’s favor.”
Angling himself in