peeked inside a vase. “The children pledge on all their toys they did not take the bell.” She looked into a tea caddy next. “But with the help of the staff, we should find the bell soon—before we all perish of hunger.”
“Miss Ashby?”
She purred, “Yes, Ravenswood.”
He bristled.
Drat! She had not meant to sound so wanton.
Coughing into her fingers, she said, “Forgive me. My throat is a bit parched. You were saying, my lord?”
He looked lost for words. In truth, he looked preoccupied with staring at her .
Henrietta felt a giddy rush of warm fuzzies tickle her right down to her toes.
“I was going to suggest, Miss Ashby, that you look inside the armoire for the Christmas bell.”
“Oh.” She skirted to the tall piece of furniture with glass inlays. “What a good idea, my lord.”
Henrietta opened one of the glass doors and poked around the shelves, behind the assortment of trinkets.
“You’ve a parched throat, Miss Ashby?
The fine hairs on the back of her neck spiked.
Sebastian was approaching. She could hear the soft click of his boots, smell the very masculine scent of him grow near.
“I hope you didn’t catch chill while you were ice skating,” he said.
Confident in Madam Jacqueline’s training, Henrietta assured herself she could do this; she could get Ravenswood to kiss her—on the lips this time.
“It’s just a little tickle. I’ll be fine, Ravenswood.”
Shifting through the precious heirlooms in the armoire, she ignored the loud thudding of her heart to ask, “How did you sleep, my lord?”
“Not a wink, I’m afraid.”
He was beside her now. She sniffed the spicy scent of cologne. Oh, it wasn’t fair to her senses that the man should look, sound, smell so sinfully delicious! It made her attempt at seduction all the more grueling, with the distraction he imposed.
“I’m sorry to hear that, my lord.”
“Are you really, Miss Ashby?”
“Why, of course, Ravenswood.” She peered behind a figurine. “We are friends, you and I. And friends always want what’s best for each other.”
“Hmmm.”
His warm breath tickled the soft hairs by her ear, making her shiver.
“About our friendship, Miss Ashby?”
Henrietta stopped searching through the armoire and looked at him. “Yes, Ravenswood?”
A storm raged in his sea blue eyes. “Do you really think we can be friends?”
The deep rumble of his voice did very pleasant things to her, arousing things. But she stifled her growing passion to respond, “Indeed, Ravenswood. Why do you ask?”
She was careful to match his low tone, to mimic the brewing desire reflecting in his watery gaze.
“I remember the first time we met, Miss Ashby.”
Unfortunately, so did Henrietta. “At Peter and Penelope’s engagement party?”
“That’s right. You were too young to attend the celebration.”
“Yes, I remember,” she murmured. “Mama had ordered me to bed.”
“But you did not obey.”
Henrietta shrugged. “It was a spectacular event. I had to see it for myself.”
“You almost broke your neck.”
“Rot! It was just a little tumble.”
But it wasn’t that little a tumble. Henrietta thought back to that both magical and disastrous night. She had crouched by the top of the stairs, peering below at the dashing guests streaming into the house. And then he had entered the main hall, decked in dapper garb of sinister black.
A peculiar spasm had gripped her heart. An omen really, telling her the viscount was special among all the rest. And to get a better look at him,she had poked her head around the banister…and lost her footing.
Like tumbleweed, she’d rolled down the steps and landed right at Ravenswood’s feet. What a mortification!
“You were fortunate to have survived the accident, Miss Ashby.”
“My backside was a bit sore, is all.”
But upon mention of her sore backside, something dark, ravenous even, sparked in Sebastian’s eyes. A rather naughty look that Henrietta quite
“Miss Ashby?”
She purred, “Yes, Ravenswood.”
He bristled.
Drat! She had not meant to sound so wanton.
Coughing into her fingers, she said, “Forgive me. My throat is a bit parched. You were saying, my lord?”
He looked lost for words. In truth, he looked preoccupied with staring at her .
Henrietta felt a giddy rush of warm fuzzies tickle her right down to her toes.
“I was going to suggest, Miss Ashby, that you look inside the armoire for the Christmas bell.”
“Oh.” She skirted to the tall piece of furniture with glass inlays. “What a good idea, my lord.”
Henrietta opened one of the glass doors and poked around the shelves, behind the assortment of trinkets.
“You’ve a parched throat, Miss Ashby?
The fine hairs on the back of her neck spiked.
Sebastian was approaching. She could hear the soft click of his boots, smell the very masculine scent of him grow near.
“I hope you didn’t catch chill while you were ice skating,” he said.
Confident in Madam Jacqueline’s training, Henrietta assured herself she could do this; she could get Ravenswood to kiss her—on the lips this time.
“It’s just a little tickle. I’ll be fine, Ravenswood.”
Shifting through the precious heirlooms in the armoire, she ignored the loud thudding of her heart to ask, “How did you sleep, my lord?”
“Not a wink, I’m afraid.”
He was beside her now. She sniffed the spicy scent of cologne. Oh, it wasn’t fair to her senses that the man should look, sound, smell so sinfully delicious! It made her attempt at seduction all the more grueling, with the distraction he imposed.
“I’m sorry to hear that, my lord.”
“Are you really, Miss Ashby?”
“Why, of course, Ravenswood.” She peered behind a figurine. “We are friends, you and I. And friends always want what’s best for each other.”
“Hmmm.”
His warm breath tickled the soft hairs by her ear, making her shiver.
“About our friendship, Miss Ashby?”
Henrietta stopped searching through the armoire and looked at him. “Yes, Ravenswood?”
A storm raged in his sea blue eyes. “Do you really think we can be friends?”
The deep rumble of his voice did very pleasant things to her, arousing things. But she stifled her growing passion to respond, “Indeed, Ravenswood. Why do you ask?”
She was careful to match his low tone, to mimic the brewing desire reflecting in his watery gaze.
“I remember the first time we met, Miss Ashby.”
Unfortunately, so did Henrietta. “At Peter and Penelope’s engagement party?”
“That’s right. You were too young to attend the celebration.”
“Yes, I remember,” she murmured. “Mama had ordered me to bed.”
“But you did not obey.”
Henrietta shrugged. “It was a spectacular event. I had to see it for myself.”
“You almost broke your neck.”
“Rot! It was just a little tumble.”
But it wasn’t that little a tumble. Henrietta thought back to that both magical and disastrous night. She had crouched by the top of the stairs, peering below at the dashing guests streaming into the house. And then he had entered the main hall, decked in dapper garb of sinister black.
A peculiar spasm had gripped her heart. An omen really, telling her the viscount was special among all the rest. And to get a better look at him,she had poked her head around the banister…and lost her footing.
Like tumbleweed, she’d rolled down the steps and landed right at Ravenswood’s feet. What a mortification!
“You were fortunate to have survived the accident, Miss Ashby.”
“My backside was a bit sore, is all.”
But upon mention of her sore backside, something dark, ravenous even, sparked in Sebastian’s eyes. A rather naughty look that Henrietta quite
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