of her in those terms again. What dangerous idiocy. Witness the way heâd missed half his shots after luncheon today, caught up in thoughts of nonsensical things like the sudden sunrise of her smile when Sara praised her fatherâs designs. Or the impish gleam in her eye when sheâd pretended not to have read the gossip sheâd written about him.
Damn the bloody woman for being so adept at invading his thoughts. And why must he feel this cursed attraction to her? It made no sense. She was a plague upon society and all good sense, a woman who traded on her fatherâs reputation to plunder the lives of anyone so foolish as to speak to her. Even now, she conversed with Lady Brumley, sometimes dubbed the Galleon of Gossip because of her large frame and equally large mouth, not to mention her tendency to wear outrageous hats with a nautical motif. He could imagine the dirty byways their discussion wandered in.
âSo you met Miss Taylor at her home, did you?â a female voice asked at his side. Without looking, he recognized the lavender scent of Jordanâs wife, Emily.
Her question demonstrated why sexual attraction was dangerous. If his mind had been clear this afternoon, he wouldnât have underestimated Miss Taylorâs audacity. In trying to force her into a lie, heâd instead tempted her to tell the truth, and that had caused him no small inconvenience in twisting her answer to cover up his sins.
Dragging his gaze from Miss Taylor was more difficult than he wouldâve liked. âI see youâve been talking to Sara. Yes, I met Miss Taylor at her home. I respected her father a great deal.â
âDid you really? Come now, Ian, I doubt you ever even met Algernon Taylor.â
Ian shrugged. âI neednât have met the man to admire him and his work.â
âYou must have admired him enormously to pay his daughter a condolence call. You never call on anyone without a purpose.â
She knew him too well. âBe careful, my nosy friend,â he said lightly. âYouâre dabbling in matters beyond your purview.â
Emily arched one blond eyebrow, then glanced across the ballroom at Miss Taylor. âSheâs very pretty, isnât she?â
Pretty didnât begin to describe her. The girls who tittered and flirted with him were pretty. She was energy itself, vital, alive, like a scarlet rose among pastel lilies.
But roses had thorns, and Miss Taylorâs thorns were tipped with poison.
âShe doesnât interest me, I assure you.â Amazing that he could speak the blatant lie with a straight face. And more amazing still that it was a lie.
âWhat a shame. You seem to interest her .â
That startled him. âWhat do you mean?â
âAccording to Sara, she was full of questions about you, especially when she heard that you are once again an eligible bachelor.â
He groaned. âI shouldâve known Jordan couldnât keep a confidence from youââ
âDonât blame him for it. The news was circulating before I even left London this morning. Did you really think a family could keep an elopement quiet for long?â
âI suppose not.â So Miss Taylor knew the entire affair now. The bloody witch probably congratulated herself over her success. So why hadnât that quelled her obsession with ruining his life? If sheâd been asking about him, it clearly hadnât.
Damn. He must find a new strategy for dealing with her.
âMiss Taylor had read that beastly article about you,â Emily went on, âbut Sara set her straight on that matter, too.â
Ian frowned. âSet her straight?â
âSara thought you might appreciate it if an unattached female like Miss Taylor knew the truth. After you explained to us this morning about your soldier friend and his sister, we were both eager to have the truth known. Youâre being modest about the situation and your role, but we
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