Page 36 of More or Less a Countess
Nick choked back a laugh. “Yes, I see your point. Well, then, I think you want Execution Dock first, since it’s got both the element of justice and Captain Kidd’s ghost. It’s the perfect bridge between those two chapters, and of course as you said they’re both stairways, which adds an extra touch of poetry to the thing.”
She didn’t say a word, but sat staring at him. When he remained silent, she raised an eyebrow. “Well? Is that it? Don’t you have anything else to say?”
“No. What do you expect me to say?”
“Oh, some kind of warning about how I read too much, or about how no good can come of ladies who fill their heads with too much knowledge, or perhaps something about ghosts and burial grounds and executions not being ladylike. At the very least I expected some sort of sarcastic remark about bluestockings.”
“Well, that would hardly be fair. I don’t know any bluestockings, aside from you.”
In truth, aside from the sort of vague distaste required of any fashionable gentleman, Nick hadn’t ever given much thought to bluestockings. That is, until he’d met Miss Somerset, and discovered a knowledgeable lady was far more fascinating than he’d ever imagined.
“I don’t like to generalize about any lady, Miss Somerset,” he went on when she remained silent. “Just as I’m sure you’d never dream of making an unfair assumption about any gentleman, even when the gossips insist he’s a heartless rake.”
A guilty flush rose in her cheeks, and Nick felt a grin curve his lips.
“Yes, well, as to that…”
She bit at her bottom lip, but it was no use. The reluctant smile she was trying to suppress was determined to have its way with her mouth. Nick gazed at her lips, his breath catching when at last it burst forth.
“It wasn’t the gossip, Lord Dare. It was the scarlet waistcoat.”
Nick hadn’t the vaguest idea what she meant, but for some reason his grin widened. “What scarlet waistcoat?”
“The one you wore to Lord and Lady Derrick’s dinner party.” Her eyes were twinkling with mischief.
“What’s wrong with my scarlet waistcoat?” The damn thing was more Gibbs’s than it was his, just like most of his elegant clothing, but if Miss Somerset liked it, perhaps he’d wear it at their wedding.
“Oh, nothing at all. It’s a handsome waistcoat, and I daresay it flatters your, ah…your…”
She trailed off, looking very much as if she wished she hadn’t mentioned the waistcoat at all, which only made Nick more determined to hear what she’d been about to say. “My what?”
She waved a hand at him. “Your, ah… your person.”
“I see. So I’m a rake because I wore a flattering scarlet waistcoat?”
“Yes,” she said, as if it were perfectly obvious. “Only a rake would wear a waistcoat so clearly intended to gain the ladies’ attention.”
Nick stared at her in shock for a moment, then he threw back his head and laughed until his stomach ached. “Do you know what I think, Miss Somerset? I think my scarlet waistcoat caughtyourattention, and you bear it a grudge for that reason.”
“That’s utter nonsense, Lord Dare.” She sniffed with disdain, but a smile lurked at the corners of her lips. “But never mind the waistcoat. Hadn’t we better be on our way to Wapping?”
Nick didn’t stir from his place on the settee. “No. Not yet.”
“Would you like some tea first? I beg your pardon, my lord.” She rose and crossed the room to ring the bell. “I should have offered earlier—”
“No, no tea, thank you. What I want, Miss Somerset, is to see your book.”
She froze halfway across the room. “No.”
Nick raised an eyebrow at her icy tone. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to show it to you! I can’t think why you’d want to see it anyway. You’ll find it dreadfully dull, I’m sure.”
Nick ran a hand over his jaw, studying her. “I don’t agree, Miss Somerset. I find everything about you very interesting, indeed.”
He blinked, surprised to hear the low rasp of his voice. Hewasinterested in her as a means to an end, but the way he’d said it, in that husky, suggestive tone, it had sounded as if he was flirting with her—
Wait. Hewasflirting with her, wasn’t he? Flirting and teasing and charming her into accepting his calls so he could get on with this bloody courtship and marriage and return to Italy and Catalina’s waiting arms.
