"I'm sure you have many friends to get back to."
"Why, Miss Sparkler, I didn't know that you noticed or cared about the company I keep."
"I don't. " Feeling the heat of censorious glances, Charity tamped her voice down. "What you do and whom you do it with is none of my business, Mr. Fines."
For an instant, she thought she'd quieted him.
Then he murmured, "You're wrong, you know."
Hearing the annoyed grumbling around them, she kept her eyes fixed on Dr. Frankel as he pointed out areas of the brain. The scholar could have been speaking Greek for all she knew. Mr. Fines, blast him, had hooked her attention.
Unable to help herself, she muttered, "Wrong? About what?"
"I don't have many friends." This startling assertion made her turn her head. His smile was crooked and boyish, devoid of its usual urbanity. The effect battered at her defenses. "Not many with whom I could share a heartfelt conversation, at any rate. And not any I could talk to ... the way I find myself talking to you."
Don't give in. He regrets kissing you. He called it a mistake.
She swallowed. "I'm not interested in being your friend."
"Maybe that's not what I want from you either."
He looked as surprised by his words as she was.
Her pulse raced. Don't get fooled again by his charm.
"I don't care what you want," she said.
His brow furrowed. "For a slip of a thing, you're remarkably stubborn."
The reference to her insignificance made her patience snap. "First I'm a mouse, now I'm a slip ? Well, I may be small, but you have an overly large head," she said in a furious undertone. "Especially when it comes to your own countenance."
Mr. Fines' lips pressed together. Before she could savor the triumph of putting him in his place, a muscle twitched alongside his mouth. His eyes danced. He was silently laughing at her!
All pretense of listening to the lecture fled.
She spun in her chair to face him. "I fail to see what is so amusing."
He shook his head, his wide shoulders shaking.
" Ahem. Am I interrupting anything?"
The heavily accented words directed Charity's gaze toward the stage. Dr. Frankel's grey brows formed a stern line, his wooden stick directed at them like an accusing finger. "The gentleman and lady at the back. Do you have something you'd care to share with the rest of the audience?"
"N-no," Charity stammered. She felt like an errant miss caught in a prank, a sensation as novel as it was mortifying. Her cheeks pulsed as every pair of eyes turned in her direction. "B-beg pardon, sir. We were just—"
The doctor gestured impatiently with his stick. "Since you have captured the audience's attention, I will use the pair of you for my demonstration."
"No, really, I—"
"Glad to lend a hand, Dr. Frankel. Fascinating stuff, your lecture." Mr. Fines' insouciant tones cut her off. He pulled her to her feet, murmuring, "Come on, this will be fun."
"No, it won't." She tried to pull her arm free.
But his grip didn't budge from her elbow, and he steered her down the aisle. "When one is called to the carpet," he said under his breath, "resisting is futile. Doing so will result in satisfaction for him and rug burn for you. Best to play along—trust me on this."
" You would know," she said through her teeth.
He flashed an unrepentant grin. "Getting into hot water is a Fines trait, I'm afraid. If you think Percy has a talent for it, wait until you see her older brother at work."
It was too late to argue further; they'd arrived at the stage.
"Take a seat facing one another," Dr. Frankel instructed.
Fuming, she took the chair on the right. Mr. Fines took the opposite one, which was placed so close to hers that their knees touched. She pulled away as if burned.
"Who will conduct the examination first?" the doctor asked.
Charity's hands grew clammy. All her life, she'd followed rules and done what was expected of her. Yet thanks to Mr. Fines, she had no clue how to proceed.
The cad had the gall to offer her a bland smile. "Shall I have a go
"Why, Miss Sparkler, I didn't know that you noticed or cared about the company I keep."
"I don't. " Feeling the heat of censorious glances, Charity tamped her voice down. "What you do and whom you do it with is none of my business, Mr. Fines."
For an instant, she thought she'd quieted him.
Then he murmured, "You're wrong, you know."
Hearing the annoyed grumbling around them, she kept her eyes fixed on Dr. Frankel as he pointed out areas of the brain. The scholar could have been speaking Greek for all she knew. Mr. Fines, blast him, had hooked her attention.
Unable to help herself, she muttered, "Wrong? About what?"
"I don't have many friends." This startling assertion made her turn her head. His smile was crooked and boyish, devoid of its usual urbanity. The effect battered at her defenses. "Not many with whom I could share a heartfelt conversation, at any rate. And not any I could talk to ... the way I find myself talking to you."
Don't give in. He regrets kissing you. He called it a mistake.
She swallowed. "I'm not interested in being your friend."
"Maybe that's not what I want from you either."
He looked as surprised by his words as she was.
Her pulse raced. Don't get fooled again by his charm.
"I don't care what you want," she said.
His brow furrowed. "For a slip of a thing, you're remarkably stubborn."
The reference to her insignificance made her patience snap. "First I'm a mouse, now I'm a slip ? Well, I may be small, but you have an overly large head," she said in a furious undertone. "Especially when it comes to your own countenance."
Mr. Fines' lips pressed together. Before she could savor the triumph of putting him in his place, a muscle twitched alongside his mouth. His eyes danced. He was silently laughing at her!
All pretense of listening to the lecture fled.
She spun in her chair to face him. "I fail to see what is so amusing."
He shook his head, his wide shoulders shaking.
" Ahem. Am I interrupting anything?"
The heavily accented words directed Charity's gaze toward the stage. Dr. Frankel's grey brows formed a stern line, his wooden stick directed at them like an accusing finger. "The gentleman and lady at the back. Do you have something you'd care to share with the rest of the audience?"
"N-no," Charity stammered. She felt like an errant miss caught in a prank, a sensation as novel as it was mortifying. Her cheeks pulsed as every pair of eyes turned in her direction. "B-beg pardon, sir. We were just—"
The doctor gestured impatiently with his stick. "Since you have captured the audience's attention, I will use the pair of you for my demonstration."
"No, really, I—"
"Glad to lend a hand, Dr. Frankel. Fascinating stuff, your lecture." Mr. Fines' insouciant tones cut her off. He pulled her to her feet, murmuring, "Come on, this will be fun."
"No, it won't." She tried to pull her arm free.
But his grip didn't budge from her elbow, and he steered her down the aisle. "When one is called to the carpet," he said under his breath, "resisting is futile. Doing so will result in satisfaction for him and rug burn for you. Best to play along—trust me on this."
" You would know," she said through her teeth.
He flashed an unrepentant grin. "Getting into hot water is a Fines trait, I'm afraid. If you think Percy has a talent for it, wait until you see her older brother at work."
It was too late to argue further; they'd arrived at the stage.
"Take a seat facing one another," Dr. Frankel instructed.
Fuming, she took the chair on the right. Mr. Fines took the opposite one, which was placed so close to hers that their knees touched. She pulled away as if burned.
"Who will conduct the examination first?" the doctor asked.
Charity's hands grew clammy. All her life, she'd followed rules and done what was expected of her. Yet thanks to Mr. Fines, she had no clue how to proceed.
The cad had the gall to offer her a bland smile. "Shall I have a go
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