for whom heâd lay down his life, the Duke of Marchmont might have tried to find out exactly how innocent she was.
But she was Lexhamâs daughter, and in a snit about something, and all in all, perhaps it would be wisest simply to humor her.
âIâm shocked, deeply shocked, that no oneâs told you,â he said. âI am not intelligent. You had better explain carefully. And try not to use any big words.â
She shot him one of her sidelong glances, a flash of blue suspicion.
âAsk your father,â he said. âIâm surprised he didnât warn you what a thickhead I am. Iâm sure heâs mentioned it to me many times.â
âHe did tell me so,â she said. âHe told me not to expect too much.â
âOuch,â he said. ââA hit, a very palpable hit.ââ
She rolled her eyes. âI see how it is,â she said. âNo matter. Some things even you can understand. I need clothes.â
âYou do? Has my thick brain somehow overlooked the fact that youâre naked?â
âNot these clothes,â she said, drawing her hand down the front of the dress in the most provocative manner. âThis is last yearâs dress!â
âHow appalling. You must take it off immediately.â
âIs that a dare?â she said.
He had replied without thinking. Now images from the past crowded into his mind: Zoe challenging and taunting her brothers, Zoe taking every âyou mustnâtâ and âyou oughtnâtâ and âyou canâtâ and âyou wouldnâtâ as a challenge or taunt.
What heâd jestingly suggested was a dare of the first order. For a lady to take off her dress in public was not merely unthinkably improper; it was practicallyimpossible. Undoing the numerous and complicated fasteningsâwhich were located for the convenience of the maid, not the mistressâwould require the agility of an acrobat and a contortionist combined. No lady would get far unaided.
On the other hand, this was Zoe. Sheâd find a way to do it or die trying. And the process of her finding a way to do it was bound to be entertaining.
The temptation to dare her was almost overpowering.
But he collected his wits and said, âNo, it was a joke.â
âThis dress is no joke to me,â she said. âI shall get no respect in Society if I dress like a dowd. My attire must be in the latest mode. I should not have to explain this to you. You told me about Beau Brummell. Even my sisters admit you are fashionable, though it kills them to say so. And I can see it for myself: your dress tells me that you understand these matters.â
He said, âActually, I leave it to my valet Hoare to understand.â
âAnd does Hoare go to the tailor to choose your garments as well?â
âNo, I go to the tailor, but I leave the decisions to him,â he said. âHe knows I donât care. Still, any tailor would know that if he dresses me badly, his reputation will suffer and heâll lose custom.â
This seemed to give her pause.
He watched her ponder, and something in her expression made him imagine her mind working, absorbing the few sentences heâd uttered, and filing the knowledge away for future reference. He pictured her mind as a miniature of Londonâs General Post Office,filled with lines of workers at the long benches, neatly filing letters into their proper slots.
âDo you mean to have your valet order my clothes?â she said.
âNo.â
âDid you mean to leave the ordering of my wardrobe to my sisters?â
âGad, no.â
She folded her arms and waited.
He waited, too, drawing out the moment, because sunlight kissed her nose and glanced off the curly tendrils escaping from under her bonnet, and because what might be a smile hovered at the corners of her mouth.
He stood, he was aware, some inches too close for propriety. A passing
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Karl Iagnemma
Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham