Page 27 of Hit Me With Your Best Scot
“You mean the way I just kissed you? No. There’s no need to be jealous.”
And there she went again, turning the conversation back to him, no doubt thinking he would feel the need to protest that he wasn’t jealous, and she could then turn the talk to wherever she next chose. “Are ye going to tell me where ye reside? Ye’d be safer if I met ye there and drove ye to the theater in the morning.”
“I’ll make my own way to the Saint Genesius. If you could return me there by way of Pall Mall, that should inform the gents that I’m not fair game.”
And there went his theory that she was avoiding the aristocracy. This was becoming exceedingly complicated, and even more interesting. “But nae by way of Hyde Park?”
“The gentlemen’s clubs—or enough of them, anyway—are along Pall Mall. That is a street. I’m permitted to drive down a street on my way to somewhere else. Hyde Park is a destination in itself.”
“A minute ago, ye were worried overmyreputation,” he countered, eyeing her Madeira and beginning to wonder if one wee drink would be so horrible. “Explain to me why a lass would be offended at seeing us eating or kissing, but nae driving about in a barouche together.”
“It’s all in the difference between rumor and proof, my lord. Th—”
“Coll.”
Her face dove into an amused grimace. “Coll. If someone sees us driving together on the street, I may be your mistress, you may be my protector, you may be kissing me,you may be taking me to a picnic. You may also be simply driving me to the theater.”
“So, if a lass asks what I’m up to with ye in my barouche, I can claim that the most innocent story is the truth.”
“Yes.”
“And it’s nae a lie, because Iwouldbe driving ye to the theater.”
“You see, this isn’t so difficult,” she said, with a grin that made him want to kiss her again.
What he saw—or was beginning to see—was that Persephone Jones had a very keen mind. No wonder she hadn’t liked Claremont despite his pretty looks and his surface politeness; she’d seen right through all of it, probably from the moment the earl had introduced himself. She’d put up with it until James Pierce became too insistent with his cock because she’d found him useful, as she’d just admitted, for keeping the rest of the drooling horde of males away from her.Hmm.
“What I see,” he said aloud, “is that ye seem to put a man through his paces until he wants to collect what he reckons he’s owed, at which point ye find some kilt-wearing lummox to step in and rescue ye so ye can begin dancing yer circles about the new fellow until it all goes round again.”
She set her glass down on the blanket. “Have I been at all useful to you today?” she asked, meeting his gaze.
Pretty eyes, he thought,blue as the noontime sky, then shoved that nonsense out of his skull. If he meant to keep up with her, he was going to have to toss his general take-on-all-challengers-with-his-fists mentality aside and use his mind. “Ye told me what the dances mean, which I didnae know. And ye made me realize I cannae stomp about Hyde Park like a bear looking for a sow if I want to find anything other than a sow. So aye, ye’ve been useful. Ye’ve told me nae to be myself.”
“That’s not… that’s not precisely what I meant. Be a more patient, cultured version of yourself. It’s still you—just more polished.”
It didn’t feel that way. Trying to act English felt like wearing another man’s coat, which would of course be too small and confining. His reluctance most have shown on his face, because her smile softened. “You are a likeable man. Just shorten your stride.”
That made it all sound a bit more palatable, even if he doubted all he required was patience. “What of ye, then? Ye said yerself, the sandbags were likely an accident. Ye may have partnered up with me for nae reason at all.”
“That’s not so. You’ve been—or will be—useful to me, when you drive me back via Pall Mall. A fair exchange, I’d call it.”
“And yet I dunnae ken where ye live, or if ye have any intention of going with me where yer kisses tease that ye will.”
“You are a confounding man.”
“I’m an open book,” he countered. “Ye’re the one who willnae even let me read yer title. For a simple theater lass, ye’ve nae common, leatherbound cover. Ye’re protected by a steel one, I reckon. That sort of thing piques a man’s interest. It piquesmyinterest.”There. Let her think on that for a minute. Because she’d been correct about him, as well. Aye, he liked to talk with his fists. But he could also read Latin.
Folding her hands in her lap, she sat up straighter, letting the silence between them stretch out for a good half a minute. He waited, trying on the too-tight patience coat, as she’d suggested. “Number four Charles Lane, in St. John’s Wood, the blue house third in from Charlbert Street,” she finally said. “But if you come to my home, you’d best be prepared to charm Flora, Gregory, andHades. If they don’t accept you, don’t expect that I will. There. Challenge met.”
“Hades?” he repeated, lifting an eyebrow.
“Yes. In mythology, Hades and Persephone were quite close, you know.”
Yes, he knew that. More intriguing was that he’d pushed, and she’d given ground. “So ye do like me, then.”
She held his gaze. “Yes, I do. I don’t encounter many open books in my life.”
“And I dunnae scare ye even a bit, do I?” After all, he’d been called intimidating and threatening, and wee lasses trembled when he asked them to dance. A handful had even gotten wobbly on their feet. On first sight, however, Persephone had grinned and called him Romeo—and had made her attraction to him clear as glass.
