unwittingly help, though what he could be looking for she had no idea.
"My lady."
And there he was by the doorway, his broad shoulders covered by yet another black coat, his scar more pronounced tonight for some reason. The same black diamond winked from his stock, his leather shoes catching the glitter of the fire. His white stockings were stark against his black breeches.
"Mr. Trevain . I'm glad you've come."
He walked forward. Ariel felt her heart speed up with every step. "Are you?"
He was flirting with her. Or was he? His silver eyes were intent, his look seeming to pierce her soul. What was it he sought in her eyes, she wondered.
"I thought you might change your mind," he said, stopping before her.
She stared up at him, at his tan, masculine face. Up into eyes that glittered as they stared down at her. "As you can see, I did not."
He reached for her hand. Her breath caught. He lifted it, kissed it softly, then released it. She felt almost disappointed by the loss of contact.
He stepped back from her, placing his hands behind his back, his gaze focusing on the room around them. "This is a very lovely home."
"Thank you."
"Perhaps you could give me a tour later?"
She looked at him sharply. Her senses went on alert. "Of course." She gestured to the sideboard. "Would you like something to drink?"
He seemed pleased by the suggestion. "Yes, I would, although I insist on pouring." He crossed to the sideboard, which held three bottles and four glasses. "Would you like some wine?"
"Yes," she answered, knowing she shouldn't. Wine was something she drank rarely, but tonight she found herself wanting something stronger. Truly, she should have had a glass of brandy to steady her nerves before he'd arrived. She should have had ten drinks of brandy.
"What is the view out of that window, by the way?" he asked over his shoulder as he poured.
Ariel watched the glass fill with liquid. "The house sits next to one of His Majesty's parks."
"It must be beautiful."
She glanced at the window as if she could see out of it. "It is."
He turned back to her, a glass held out. "To trusting me," he murmured, lifting it and taking a sip.
She did the same, the wine tart on her tongue, the taste foreign. He watched her intently, so much so that she felt her face heat like warming stones. She took another sip to cover her nervousness.
"Did you have a pleasant ride over?" Mundane, silly question, she knew, but she needed to say something to cover her nervousness, a nervousness that increased with each passing moment.
"Very pleasant. Thank you."
Hmph . Now what? She elected to sit down on the sofa, relieved when he sat on the sofa that stood across from her. "And your uncle. Are you on speaking terms with him after last eve?"
His expression turned rather wry. "I am, more's the pity."
She took another sip, the liquid burning a path down her throat.
"I am sorry for what happened."
She would wager he was. "' Tis of no import. I know you had nothing to do with it."
Already she could feel the effects of the wine, one of the benefits of drinking nothing but lemonade for the past few years. "I assume you didn't tell him our engagement was a sham?"
"No, I did not."
She nodded, wondering what to say next.
"You seem nervous," he said, his voice low.
"Me?" She feigned innocence. "What have I to be nervous about?"
"You are alone with me."
She settled back on her sofa, suddenly feeling rather languid. "Yes, there is that, I suppose. I don't make a habit of seeing strange men alone." She frowned. "At least I didn't until I met you."
He leaned forward, his elbow resting upon his knee. "And has meeting me been such a bad thing?"
She found herself nodding before she realized what she was doing. "I rank my meeting with you right up there with the day my horse lost a shoe on Archibald Worth's estate."
"How flattering."
"Yes, well, at least the horse wasn't injured."
"But you were."
She waved her glass around in a gesture of dismissal.
"My lady."
And there he was by the doorway, his broad shoulders covered by yet another black coat, his scar more pronounced tonight for some reason. The same black diamond winked from his stock, his leather shoes catching the glitter of the fire. His white stockings were stark against his black breeches.
"Mr. Trevain . I'm glad you've come."
He walked forward. Ariel felt her heart speed up with every step. "Are you?"
He was flirting with her. Or was he? His silver eyes were intent, his look seeming to pierce her soul. What was it he sought in her eyes, she wondered.
"I thought you might change your mind," he said, stopping before her.
She stared up at him, at his tan, masculine face. Up into eyes that glittered as they stared down at her. "As you can see, I did not."
He reached for her hand. Her breath caught. He lifted it, kissed it softly, then released it. She felt almost disappointed by the loss of contact.
He stepped back from her, placing his hands behind his back, his gaze focusing on the room around them. "This is a very lovely home."
"Thank you."
"Perhaps you could give me a tour later?"
She looked at him sharply. Her senses went on alert. "Of course." She gestured to the sideboard. "Would you like something to drink?"
He seemed pleased by the suggestion. "Yes, I would, although I insist on pouring." He crossed to the sideboard, which held three bottles and four glasses. "Would you like some wine?"
"Yes," she answered, knowing she shouldn't. Wine was something she drank rarely, but tonight she found herself wanting something stronger. Truly, she should have had a glass of brandy to steady her nerves before he'd arrived. She should have had ten drinks of brandy.
"What is the view out of that window, by the way?" he asked over his shoulder as he poured.
Ariel watched the glass fill with liquid. "The house sits next to one of His Majesty's parks."
"It must be beautiful."
She glanced at the window as if she could see out of it. "It is."
He turned back to her, a glass held out. "To trusting me," he murmured, lifting it and taking a sip.
She did the same, the wine tart on her tongue, the taste foreign. He watched her intently, so much so that she felt her face heat like warming stones. She took another sip to cover her nervousness.
"Did you have a pleasant ride over?" Mundane, silly question, she knew, but she needed to say something to cover her nervousness, a nervousness that increased with each passing moment.
"Very pleasant. Thank you."
Hmph . Now what? She elected to sit down on the sofa, relieved when he sat on the sofa that stood across from her. "And your uncle. Are you on speaking terms with him after last eve?"
His expression turned rather wry. "I am, more's the pity."
She took another sip, the liquid burning a path down her throat.
"I am sorry for what happened."
She would wager he was. "' Tis of no import. I know you had nothing to do with it."
Already she could feel the effects of the wine, one of the benefits of drinking nothing but lemonade for the past few years. "I assume you didn't tell him our engagement was a sham?"
"No, I did not."
She nodded, wondering what to say next.
"You seem nervous," he said, his voice low.
"Me?" She feigned innocence. "What have I to be nervous about?"
"You are alone with me."
She settled back on her sofa, suddenly feeling rather languid. "Yes, there is that, I suppose. I don't make a habit of seeing strange men alone." She frowned. "At least I didn't until I met you."
He leaned forward, his elbow resting upon his knee. "And has meeting me been such a bad thing?"
She found herself nodding before she realized what she was doing. "I rank my meeting with you right up there with the day my horse lost a shoe on Archibald Worth's estate."
"How flattering."
"Yes, well, at least the horse wasn't injured."
"But you were."
She waved her glass around in a gesture of dismissal.
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