This was not the shy, grief-stricken woman he’d expected. He sat. ‘You appear to be forgetting about my cousin rather well.’
‘Your cousin?’ She firmed her lips. ‘I am deeply distressed. Very sad.’
‘I thought you might be dejected by his loss of affection.’
‘Yesterday, I was,’ she said, ‘but this morning I woke up all afresh.’
He stood. ‘I am pleased to hear that. I must be leaving—’
She also rose, and then took his hand.
‘I am so desolate.’ Her shoulders slumped. ‘Beyond despair.’
He stared at her and she smiled. ‘If it means a chance to keep you here longer,’ she added. ‘Once I saw you standing at the doorway, I completely recovered.’
He examined her face. ‘So you have not really been sorrowful over the loss of Fox in your life.’
‘Fox? Lord Foxworthy?’ She leaned forward. ‘In truth, I danced with him once.’
Andrew didn’t speak.
‘He’s a bit over-fond of himself, if you ask me,’ she said. ‘And wears those indigo waistcoats to make his eyes look bluer. Plus, he flutters his lashes too much when he’s talking.’
‘His mother buys those waistcoats for him and he wears them to please her. Underneath all that nonsense he spouts, he’s not a bad person. Though he has been complimented on his eyes about one hundred times too much for his own good.’
‘Personally...’ she leaned forward ‘...I like a nice brown in eye colour.’ She appraised him. ‘Though it’s hard to tell in this light.’
‘I think there’s been some mistake,’ he said.
‘No mistake,’ she said. ‘And you do not have to, um...’ She shrugged. ‘The earrings. Fox may keep them. I don’t want them. Meeting you is all the reward I need.’
He took in a breath, his thoughts exploded and everything became very clear. ‘I am...so relieved.’ Fox! Andrew would let him choose what clothing he wished to be buried in, and then Andrew would assist with the final arrangement of his cousin’s body.
She put a hand near her face and fanned as she stared at him. ‘I could see you as a knight, or a conqueror. Something majestic. But I am sure you hear that all the time.’
He needed to make sure she knew this was not a transaction. Nor was it to be an adventure such as in the sordid tales Fox told. ‘I think you might have formed a wrong conclusion.’
‘Yes.’ In the dimly lit room her teeth flashed. ‘I thought you might be rather...um, unsightly. Rather old.’
‘Speaking of age...’ He stepped into the middle of the room. ‘How old are you?’ he asked.
She moved farther from him. Her mouth opened, but she didn’t speak.
‘Age?’ he repeated.
‘Twenty-six. Barely.’
‘You jest.’ Maybe ten years ago.
‘I assure you,’ she plucked the spectacles from her face and leaned closer. Then she paused and her eyes remained on him, but her head turned to the side. Her voice softened. ‘You did not think I could be twenty-six?’
Without the eyepiece, he could tell she was younger than he’d first thought. His courtesies did not desert him, although his honesty did. ‘I cannot believe you a day over twenty-three.’
She placed the spectacles on the nightstand, then gave a pleased tilt of her head, smiling. ‘And your age?’
‘Two years older than you.’
‘Perfect,’ she said, touching a hand to her face.
A spot of red darkness showed on her knuckles. Surely this lady had not injured herself over Fox? He could not pull his eyes away. ‘What is that?’
She raised her hand, looking at the back. ‘Vermilion.’ She shrugged. ‘I painted this morning. Just a miniature I am working on. I have a few supplies here.’
He breathed again.
Her fingers reached out and clasped his.
For a moment they both stood motionless, the room soundless.
‘I expected—’ She seemed to have trouble with her words. ‘I didn’t expect you to be so... Well, I thought you’d be more— You’re not—’
At her appraisal, pleasure sparked in his body.
She exhaled a breath that came out as a sigh. ‘Oh, my.’ She peered at him. ‘You’ve legs like a racehorse—only more my speed.’
He tipped his head in recognition of her compliment. Women did not comment on a man’s legs, but he was quite willing to let her continue.
‘And shoulders.’ Her hand still held his, but the free one patted along the top of his coat. ‘Hard to believe.’
He concealed his smile. ‘Thank you.’
‘A reward. For me.’ She chuckled and released his fingers. She clasped her hands at her chest, almost bubbling her words out. ‘I am so very grateful. I did not expect a man anything like you.’
‘You’ll get the earrings,’ he said. ‘But they will be from me. Not my cousin Foxworthy. And simply a gift of friendship. Nothing else.’
She tiptoed up and spoke, her lips almost against his ear, and the wine scent of her breath touched his nose. ‘I will treasure the gift. A memento of a wonderful meeting. Between friends.’ Her hands patted down his arms, then moved to his chest and gave little brushes. ‘Lord Andrew, I would have found time to get away from my painting had I realised men like you were about.’
She leaned closer. She smelled of—not some jarring scent which spoke of illicit pleasures, but wholesomeness. Of home and hearth.
She wobbled a bit and he steadied her, both hands on her waist. She must have had a considerable amount of wine.
‘I should leave,’ he said, still holding her. The garment bunched under his touch. She felt like a wraith under her clothing. The dress did not fit her at all.
‘Yes, you should. But not just now.’ She melted against him with a satisfied, ‘Ah...’ that he could feel from his chest to his heels. ‘Let me enjoy this moment. It has been a very long time since—’ she had her arms around his waist ‘—never.’
‘Never?’
‘Well, never like you. You’re all sturdy. And you smell a bit like a tree. I’ve never been near a man who smells like a forest.’
Rivers of warmth flowed in his body and he moved carefully, trying to keep her clothing from gathering under his hands and
