Page 32 of The Viscount's Silent Pugilist

She squealed.

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. ’Tis just me, Davenport.”

She aimed the lantern in the direction his voice had come from. He was lounging in front of the hearth, the firelightsilhouetting him in a golden glow. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, and he held a drink in his hand.

Her heartbeat continued to gallop because Jonathan was waistcoatless. His hair was so disheveled that he looked as if he’d just climbed out of bed, the light winking through the stands of his impish waves. His unbuttoned shirt revealed the length of his neck and the dip between his defined pectorals. The man was the epitome of elegant masculinity.

Nibbling on her bottom lip, she pointed at the side table.

His gaze followed her finger. “Ah,” he said. “Looking for your book?”

She nodded, then crossed the room to retrieve the volume.

“Gen, there are a few things I should probably tell you,” he announced.

Now that he knew she understood him, she supposed it was fine for him to share his thoughts, and truthfully, she wanted to be here with him, listening to his rumbling voice as the flickering flames from the fire warmed her. Turning slowly, she faced him. Breathless with anticipation, she waited for him to speak.

“Firstly—” He tilted his head back and gulped the amber liquid.

Surely, a man as confident as Lord Jonathan Davenport wasn’t nervous.

“I feel foolish for thinking you were a foreigner,” he said, a slight quiver in his voice.

She’d been mistaken. It seemed even handsome, popular, overly confident viscounts suffered with the jitters from time to time.

“And secondly, I am sorry that I told you my woes because I didn’t think you understood me. Truth be told, I’m actually quite ashamed. Especially for the things I said about Griffendale and Lady Milton. Celeste deserves better than that.”

She’d known he’d regret spilling his secrets, so thank heavens she’d stopped him when she had.

“I suppose I was too busy today to give much thought to the things I said. ’Twas only when I tried to sleep that the sheer stupidity of my words and actions hit me.”

Holding up her index finger, she perused the room searching for the stationery and pencil. Luckily, it was still in the spot she’d left it. She retrieved the writing supplies and settled on the settee, tapping the cushion beside her. Hopefully, he did not think her too forward, because she had so much she wanted to tell him—first and foremost, that he should not worry.

He hesitated, swigged the rest of his libation, placed his empty glass on a table, and then stood.

If only it were lust making his eyelids drift over his pupils. But it was far more likely that his sensual, intoxicated look was due to tippling or lack of sleep. She held her breath as he sauntered to her. He sat in the corner of the settee as far away from her as possible while still sharing the same piece of furniture. Still, he was close enough that his alluring scent wrapped around her. It seemed he’d also just washed, because he smelled like his almond soap.

After inhaling her fill, she tore her gaze from him to write:I didn’t mean to deceive you. I am sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you that I could understand you. Truthfully, I don’t know why I sometimes can’t speak. I try, but no words come out. ’Tis humiliating. Do not fret over much, because I will never repeat what you said. Your secrets are safe with me.

She handed him the message. He stared at it, his expression blank.

He must be even angrier than she’d anticipated. Hoping to smooth over her unintended deception, she penned another note:Your home is wonderful. Lady Davenport is delightful. Thank you for making Horatio and me feel welcome.

She attempted to hand it to him, but he sighed and shook his head. “I am afraid I did something stupid tonight.”

Stupid? Egad.No!Obviously, he’d changed his mind about Lady Milton, and that was the reason he’d brought her name up.

Even though his relationship was none of Genevieve’s concern, since he’d brought it up, he should just tell her what he was referencing. She placed the stationery on top of the book and wrote in big letters:What?She held it in front of his face so that he couldn’t ignore her this time.

His brow furrowed as he squinted.

She held it closer to his eyes in case he was struggling to read in the dark.

“What,” he finally read. “If you are asking me what I did that was stupid, I’m an imbecile around Griffendale, and I agreed to have you fight Roseanna.”

How exciting! This news had nothing to do with the beautiful Celeste and must mean the viscount was sponsoring her without her even asking. A squeak of joy escaped her.

“A mill. In a week’s time. At his country estate.”