he was chasing. A sense of anticipation. It didn’t make any sense that he should feel it now, with her. ‘Why is that?’
‘I beg your pardon. You will think I am an ungrateful wretch after my cousin’s kindness in giving me this opportunity.’
‘Speaking the truth is not always a bad thing.’
She chuckled, a small rather painful sound. ‘It is if you are seeking a husband. Men expect a woman to be biddable and modest and not speak out of turn.’
‘I see.’
She twisted the stem of her glass, gazing down into the liquid. ‘My father encouraged me to offer my opinion, but to some I am ill-schooled.’ She pursed her lips thoughtfully and he experienced an urgent need to see if they tasted as exotic as they looked. ‘And here I am doing it again. If I’m not careful I’ll find myself packed off to Yorkshire.’
‘Why Yorkshire?’
‘My cousin has an aunt who lives there. She’s a—’ She stopped and leaned back in her chair with a sigh. ‘Why on earth am I telling you this?’
‘Because I’m a good listener? She is a...?’
‘She is an unhappy elderly lady who has already worked three companions into the ground.’
She had modified what she intended to say, but the meaning was clear. ‘You see yourself as number four.’
‘I will be if—’
He waited in silence. She would either tell him or she would not. For some strange reason, he really hoped she would.
The notion of hoping anything in regard to this forward young woman took him aback. Her worries were nothing to him. He was here for quite another purpose. The sooner he remembered that the better.
She glanced up at his face briefly, or at least into the darkness of his hood, yet somehow he sensed that she could see him when logic said she could not. Finally she dropped her gaze, staring down at her gloved hands. ‘This Season is my last chance to oblige my family.’
Was it not every well-bred girl’s duty to oblige her family? And yet she sounded so weary, so defeated, his skin tightened with the urge to rush to her defence. As infuriating as she had been at his office, this hopelessness was far worse.
Really? What nonsense. He didn’t know what he was thinking. He sipped at his drink and almost gagged when it hit the back of his throat. ‘Why so?’
She put her glass down with a little click. ‘It is not something I should be discussing with a stranger or anyone else for that matter.’ There was a forlorn note to her voice, though she tried to hide it with a smile.
‘Is there no one in whom you can confide?’ Now why had he asked that question? Of course, he knew why. He knew how alone he had felt growing up without his family. With only servants for company and a gruff guardian who came once a month to check on his progress. A surprising and unwanted flash of memory recalled a cousin who would now be around this young woman’s age, were she alive. Had she survived, she also would have been alone growing up. Because of him.
A pang squeezed the breath from his lungs. Regret for what might have been. For the loss. He forced it back where it belonged. Nothing could be gained by such maudlin thoughts. The cases were not at all similar. This girl clearly had a caring family who gave her everything she could possibly need. Young women loved their drama. It was likely all a storm in a teacup.
She shook her head. ‘There was someone,’ she said, with a small sad smile. ‘Not any more. He—’
He? A twinge of something unpleasant tightened his gut. Interesting. He would never have imagined feeling anything that hinted of jealousy. He waited. And waited. Would she say more? Reveal her innermost dreams and wishes. God, he hoped not. And yet clearly she had aroused his curiosity.
‘A...a childhood friend I haven’t seen for quite some time.’
A friend. The relief was out of all proportion to the information imparted. ‘What happened to him?’
‘He went away.’ She waved vaguely into the dark.
Why the hell did he have the feeling there was a great deal more to the story? Was this the person she’d wanted him to find?
Why was she telling him all this, Tess wondered. Was it his anonymity causing her to drop her guard? If so, it was bound to be a mistake. Tess glanced over her shoulder. No sign of her cousin. No hope of rescue there. And indeed, it was perfectly acceptable for a man to escort her outside where other couples and groups were sitting at tables surrounded by servants. It was hardly secluded, yet it somehow felt intimate. As if they were completely alone and confidences would be in order.
How did he do that? Give her the feeling he was trustworthy, when experience had taught her never to trust any man?
Why, she didn’t even know his name and yet she felt drawn to him. Was it the timbre of his voice? His aura of youth and health, despite the horrible costume?
Oh heavens, why had she worn the bow and quiver in the mode of a huntress? It was making breathing quite difficult. She slipped one arm out of the strap.
He was on his feet in a second. ‘Allow me.’
As he leaned close to ease the confounded thing over her head without disturbing her coiffure, she inhaled a deep breath of his cologne. The scent of sandalwood with another undertone...bergamot, perhaps. It seemed...familiar.
He placed the bow and quiver on the table between them and resumed his seat.
She stared into the depths of his hood, but even his eyes were shadowed. ‘Are you sure we haven’t met before?’
He placed a gloved hand above his heart. ‘I assure you, my lady, we have never been introduced before today.’
Surely his voice had a familiar ring to it...
‘You didn’t tell me what made you choose Artemis?’ The smile in his voice made her imagine a flash of white teeth in a handsome face. Oh, really? He was probably ancient, with a horrid moustache and a bald spot.
She sipped the nasty drink. Something hot and wicked coursed through her veins, the desire to shock him out of his nonchalance. Shatter the ease with which he lounged in his chair in complete anonymity. ‘She shoots men.’
Aha! It wasn’t much of a reaction, a slight shift in his posture, but it was something.
A ghostly laugh reached her ears. He wasn’t in the least discomposed. He was amused.
Something to admire about him at least. She grinned. ‘Rakehells beware. My arrow tips are sharp.’ He could take the warning however he pleased.
He reached for the arrows as if to test her words, then for some reason thought better of it. She frowned at the gloved hand resting on the table, curled inward, the little finger out of alignment.
‘Why did you choose Death?’
