man wanted his wife to be chaste and sensible. That was attractive. That was arousing.
“We must make things right, Miss Dawson.”
“How so, my lord?”
“Will you permit my sister and I to expose you to every bit of culture before the season’s end?”
“You are too kind, my lord.”
He beamed. “Next week is the final performance at the opera house for the season. You must allow Lady Rosamond and I to take you to London for the production. We have a private box.”
Sophia was filled with restless energy. The earl was smitten with her; she had suspected it all along. The pirate captain’s insinuation otherwise was unfounded.
What makes you think the earl is interested in you…and not one of the other eligible females?
She snorted inwardly. If the earl had ever been interested in Anastasia as a potential bride, he wasn’t anymore, Sophia was sure.
“I would be honored to attend the opera with you and your sister, my lord.”
“Splendid!” He was quiet for a moment before he said, “I do hope you will allow me to escort you to many other functions, Miss Dawson?”
Sophia wanted to shake the man, make the proposal pop from his tongue. She’d do the bloody chore herself if it wasn’t considered so scandalous. But she couldn’t afford to lose Maximilian, to wait another year for another season and another suitor to come along. Very soon she would be on the shelf as the pirate captain had so boorishly expressed.
She suppressed a sigh. “I can think of no one I’d rather teach me about this great nation.”
The couple walked in quiet.
The earl paused and crouched. “Look, Miss Dawson!” He snapped the blossom from its stem and handed it to her. “ Centaurea cyanus .”
Sophia’s heart beat swiftly. She accepted the cornflower, a mark of love according to folklore. She peered into the man’s soft green eyes, keeping her features prim yet inviting.
Ask me, damn it!
But the earl only smiled and resumed the walk.
Sophia huffed quietly and fell in step beside him. She twirled the brilliant blue petals between her fingers, admiring the striking shade. It was such a rich, dark color. So intense, like the tropical sea…like James’s eyes.
“I believe the cornflower originated in southern Europe,” he said.
She pinched the bloom’s underside, forcing the blossom to open even more. She peered into the deep blue center. “No, it was northern Europe.”
“I see.”
Maximilian fell quiet. A cramp gripped Sophia’s breast. She quashed the reflection about the pirate’s eyes. The blackguard disturbed her senses even now. He distracted her from the well-orchestrated seduction.
“Let us join the rest of the party for tea, Miss Dawson.”
Sophia sensed the earl’s withdrawal. She had wounded his male pride by correcting him about the cornflower. Oh, curse James for upsetting her thoughts! She quickly searched her brain for a way to bridge the sudden distance between her and the earl.
“Ouch!”
Sophia grimaced and crumpled.
Maximilian crouched beside her and grasped her hand. “Miss Dawson, are you all right?”
Lady Lucas skirted toward her charge and knelt, too. “What happened, Miss Dawson?”
Sophia reached for her foot. “It’s my ankle.”
“Oh, my dear!”
The earl glanced at her foot. “Might I examine it, Miss Dawson?”
Sophia pinched her lips together as if in agony. “Yes, please.”
Gingerly the man pressed his fingers to the bone at her ankle. She eyed him closely. He kneaded the joint in slow and circular movements, searching for a breakage.
“I don’t think it’s broken, Miss Dawson.”
“Oh, thank heavens!” said the matron.
Sophia thanked the heavens, too. The man was aroused again, his wounded pride forgotten. Sophia could tell; his fingers quivered as he touched her ankle.
She struggled to stand.
“No, my dear!” The matron pinched her wrist. “You might make the injury worse.”
“Lady Lucas is right, Miss Dawson. I will fetch help.”
“Did someone call for
“We must make things right, Miss Dawson.”
“How so, my lord?”
“Will you permit my sister and I to expose you to every bit of culture before the season’s end?”
“You are too kind, my lord.”
He beamed. “Next week is the final performance at the opera house for the season. You must allow Lady Rosamond and I to take you to London for the production. We have a private box.”
Sophia was filled with restless energy. The earl was smitten with her; she had suspected it all along. The pirate captain’s insinuation otherwise was unfounded.
What makes you think the earl is interested in you…and not one of the other eligible females?
She snorted inwardly. If the earl had ever been interested in Anastasia as a potential bride, he wasn’t anymore, Sophia was sure.
“I would be honored to attend the opera with you and your sister, my lord.”
“Splendid!” He was quiet for a moment before he said, “I do hope you will allow me to escort you to many other functions, Miss Dawson?”
Sophia wanted to shake the man, make the proposal pop from his tongue. She’d do the bloody chore herself if it wasn’t considered so scandalous. But she couldn’t afford to lose Maximilian, to wait another year for another season and another suitor to come along. Very soon she would be on the shelf as the pirate captain had so boorishly expressed.
She suppressed a sigh. “I can think of no one I’d rather teach me about this great nation.”
The couple walked in quiet.
The earl paused and crouched. “Look, Miss Dawson!” He snapped the blossom from its stem and handed it to her. “ Centaurea cyanus .”
Sophia’s heart beat swiftly. She accepted the cornflower, a mark of love according to folklore. She peered into the man’s soft green eyes, keeping her features prim yet inviting.
Ask me, damn it!
But the earl only smiled and resumed the walk.
Sophia huffed quietly and fell in step beside him. She twirled the brilliant blue petals between her fingers, admiring the striking shade. It was such a rich, dark color. So intense, like the tropical sea…like James’s eyes.
“I believe the cornflower originated in southern Europe,” he said.
She pinched the bloom’s underside, forcing the blossom to open even more. She peered into the deep blue center. “No, it was northern Europe.”
“I see.”
Maximilian fell quiet. A cramp gripped Sophia’s breast. She quashed the reflection about the pirate’s eyes. The blackguard disturbed her senses even now. He distracted her from the well-orchestrated seduction.
“Let us join the rest of the party for tea, Miss Dawson.”
Sophia sensed the earl’s withdrawal. She had wounded his male pride by correcting him about the cornflower. Oh, curse James for upsetting her thoughts! She quickly searched her brain for a way to bridge the sudden distance between her and the earl.
“Ouch!”
Sophia grimaced and crumpled.
Maximilian crouched beside her and grasped her hand. “Miss Dawson, are you all right?”
Lady Lucas skirted toward her charge and knelt, too. “What happened, Miss Dawson?”
Sophia reached for her foot. “It’s my ankle.”
“Oh, my dear!”
The earl glanced at her foot. “Might I examine it, Miss Dawson?”
Sophia pinched her lips together as if in agony. “Yes, please.”
Gingerly the man pressed his fingers to the bone at her ankle. She eyed him closely. He kneaded the joint in slow and circular movements, searching for a breakage.
“I don’t think it’s broken, Miss Dawson.”
“Oh, thank heavens!” said the matron.
Sophia thanked the heavens, too. The man was aroused again, his wounded pride forgotten. Sophia could tell; his fingers quivered as he touched her ankle.
She struggled to stand.
“No, my dear!” The matron pinched her wrist. “You might make the injury worse.”
“Lady Lucas is right, Miss Dawson. I will fetch help.”
“Did someone call for
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