Meet Me at Midnight by Suzanne Enoch Page A

lazy amber eyes taking her in.
    “‘Diable’?” she repeated, mainly to turn his disconcerting attention away from her.
    “Seemed the fashionable thing to name the beast. His real name’s Frederick the Dependable. Hardly awe-inspiring at all.”
    She chuckled, relieved that he seemed willing to forget their poor parting last night. “I’d have to agree.”
    His return smile made her heart race. “Did you sleep well?” he asked softly as a footman poured him a cup of coffee.
    He didn’t seem to be making any attempt to dissemble about their relationship in front of the servants. The most likely reason, though, was that the household already knew. She hadn’t exactly been tactful, either, last evening.
    “Yes, I did. And my rooms are lovely. I should have told you that before. Thank you.”
    “I’m glad you like them, but you certainly don’t need to thank me for them.”
    “Even so, it was thoughtful.”
    He straightened. “Well, it’s my understanding that females like to have a private area where they can escape from the bustle of the household.”
    And there he was again, categorizing her when he didn’t even know the first thing about her. If it wasn’t for those occasional compelling looks and words, she was certain that she wouldn’t like him at all. “Well, if a man’s home is his castle, it follows that a woman needs at least a room or two,” she said, sipping her tea and watching him over the rim of the delicate porcelain cup.
    He lifted an eyebrow. “I can’t quite tell, but I almost think you’re arguing with me about something.”
    “You’re mistaken. I don’t know you well enough to argue with you.”
    “Back to that again, are we? You are persistent.”
    “It’s one of my finest qualities.”
    “What time is your luncheon today?”
    Victoria blinked at the swift change of topic. Apparently he didn’t wish to argue with her; she didn’t know quite what to make of it. “I need to be at Lady Nofton’s no later than one o’clock. The luncheon begins at half past.”
    “Females only, I suppose?”
    “A few civic-minded gentlemen attend,” she answered, wondering what he was after. “Mostly the more liberal set, and the occasional clergyman.”
    “Pretty chits like you, or toothless old spinsters?”
    “I don’t pay all that much attention to the outer casements of my friends,” she said stiffly. “And if youintend on having affairs, don’t expect me to make the introductions for you.”
    His slight smile stopped the next insult in her throat. In all likelihood, he was quite aware that he had that effect on her and used it on purpose.
    Sin took a strawberry from her plate, contemplated it for a moment, and then popped it into his mouth. “I apologize,” he said, after he’d swallowed. “I was only curious as to what you would say. I’m afraid I’ve acquired coarse manners.”
    “My old instructor, Miss Grenville, used to say that the only thing better than a fine apology was avoiding the need to make one in the first place.”
    “I’ll remember that. And I didn’t mean to offend you—really.”
    “I accept your apology, my…Sinclair.”
    “So men are permitted to attend your luncheon?”
    “Yes, we welcome it.” She sipped her tea again, but he remained silent. “Why?”
    “I thought I might accompany you today.”
    Victoria stared at him. “At the risk of repeating myself—why?”
    Sinclair leaned closer. “I’m trying to become acquainted with you. You’ve turned me away from the most pleasurable route, so I’m forced to attend charitable luncheons with clergymen and Tories.”
    Victoria blushed. “Your subtle method of reminding me of what you want isn’t likely to sway me, either.”
    “Then I’ll have to try a different method.” Before she could react to that, he put his hand over hers. “Might I accompany you?”
    With a deeper flush, she extracted her hand. “You’ll be bored silly, but it might do you some good.”
    Sinclair