The Secret Wallflower Society - Jillian Eaton Page 0,34
the pink frothy ball gown. Her blonde hair was swept back from her delicate countenance in a simple twist instead of an elaborate coiffure. Small pearl studs adorned her ears rather than glittering diamonds.
But there was beauty to be found in her simplicity. Just as there was beauty to be found in her soul.
“May I come in?” she asked, and Leo could have kicked himself when he realized he hadn’t even offered her the courtesy of a chair.
“Of course. Of course you may.” Jolted into action, he crossed the room in three strides and bowed. Then felt foolish for bowing. Then, for absolutely no reason at all, decided to bow again. When he straightened, feeling like the world’s largest arse, he saw the corners of her lips twitch.
“I am rather nervous too,” she confessed in a whisper, and with those five words Leo felt all of his tension melt away.
“It has been a long time since I’ve received a visitor of any sort,” he acknowledged. “Let alone a woman such as yourself. Won’t you please sit down, Miss Haversham?”
“Thank you,” she said as she gracefully sat in the same leather armchair he’d just occupied himself. He took the seat opposite hers, and with only a low table between them was offered an unfettered view of her lovely face. Beside them a fire crackled, adding a soft touch of ambiance to the room. A full tea service and a platter of ginger biscuits, still warm from the oven, were brought in and placed upon the table. Leo saw the maid, one of Mr. Corish’s daughters, smile as she silently closed the door and then he and Calliope were alone.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” she said. Pursing her lips, she blew gently across her tea to cool it and Leo bit back a groan.
“You’re welcome.” Don’t look at her mouth. Don’t look at her mouth. Don’t look at her mouth. “As I said, I don’t receive many visitors.”
“No.” She sipped her tea, then set it carefully back down on a lace doily. “I imagine you have quite successfully frightened them all away.”
“And yet here you are.”
“Only because I saw the man beneath all the gruff and surliness.” Her mouth – which he most definitely wasn’t looking at – curved. “Had we left things as they were at the park, I don’t know if I ever would have thought about you again.”
“I would have thought about you.” He spoke without thinking, the words wrenching themselves free from a heart that felt strangely foreign, as if it didn’t belong in his chest. “I did think about you,” he continued. “All day long. Then, as if by some stroke of magic, there you were.”
“There I was,” she whispered, hazel eyes glistening beneath long tawny lashes. “Lord Winchester, there’s really something I must tell you–”
“Leo,” he interrupted. “Call me Leo.”
“Leo,” she repeated cautiously, and the sound of his name spilling from those plump lips made him want to throw back his head and howl like a bloody wolf.
Good God. Get ahold of yourself, he ordered. Glancing down, he saw his hands were braced on the armrests of his chair, his knuckles gleaming white from the self-restraint it was taking not to knock the table aside, take Calliope in his arms, and kiss her until the fire dwindled to ash.
“Last night, I spoke of my guardian and uncle, the Marquess of Shillington.” She picked up a biscuit, turned it round in her hands, then placed it down without taking a bite. The anxious gesture wasn’t lost on Leo, and his head canted slightly to the side as he studied Calliope with renewed intensity. “What I neglected to say was that he has recently passed.”
“My deepest condolences.” Now that she mentioned it, he vaguely recalled reading of the marquess’ death in the paper, but the two men had never spoken more than few passing words to each other, and so Shillington’s death hadn’t given him pause.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Has your aunt and cousin turned you out of the house?” His jaw clenched. “Because if they have–”
“No, no,” she said hastily. “Nothing like that. In fact, it’s been quite the opposite. Which brings us to the circumstances I wished to speak with you about.”
He could sense the conflict within her when she bit the inside of her cheek and glanced down at her hands which were locked in a tight, seamless knot of fingers on top of her lap.