He fought for words, teetering on his feet and devouring her features as if she were an angel.
Well, that was nothing new. Men did that when viewing her dulcet blue eyes and white-gold hair for the first time. She appreciated this man’s good taste to marvel at her. In return, she smiled in comfort.
Clutching her arm like a pot of gold, he got his footing on the slippery floorboards. “Dear God. I say, who in hell…ah…Hades! Pardon! Pardon!”
He cleared his throat. Blinking, he recovered enough of his sanity to realize that her perfect oval face was not the one he should be addressing for redress of his grievance of the wet wooden floor. At once, he searched for the shopkeeper.
“My lord,” Mister Alworth appealed to the man as he scuttled round the end of his counter. “My sincerest apologies, dear man. It is the very devil out there this morning.”
“It is,” the beautiful man murmured as he focused on Addy once more. “I say, good of you to help me.”
“Think nothing of it, my lord. What anyone does when one slips inside a shop.”
He snorted at her turn of phrase.
Good for him. She liked to surprise men with her wit. Handsome men. Like this one who was out so early in the morning. Odd for a nob to even be up at this hour and superbly dressed in expensive dark brown superfine, too. But she’d learn why and how he was out and about—and in particular, she’d discover who he was. He was too handsome, too well dressed to pass up the opportunity to give him reason to remember her.
He regained his full impressive stature and cleared his throat. But she held on to his biceps. Why not. She liked the girth. No puny boy, this man!
“I am in your debt, Miss, for your kind assistance.” His gravel voice was indeed that of a hearty fellow. As he gazed down at her with his sweet chocolate eyes, she liked how he examined her in detail. “I fear we have not formally met.”
“No. Perhaps Mister Alworth would do the honors for us?” She was never one to stand on too much ceremony back home in Waterford, nor even in Dublin. But here, in England, she would definitely insist on every rule to give no tongues an opportunity to wag. She was a Devereaux, one of the newly arrived granddaughters of the late Earl of Barry, here to snare…or ahem, no…to find a proper husband. Rich, handsome, a man she could revere.
This excellent candidate for that honor shifted and, with an apologetic smile, bent to retrieve his top hat from the floor.
“I’m afraid that’s ruined,” she said with a tight press of her lips. “That is my fault.”
“Never! It’s only a hat.”
She appreciated his ability to forgive. An excellent quality in a man.
“I say, Mister Alworth,” he grinned at her, “will you help us with the proper introductions?”
“Indeed. Indeed.” The little man gave a laugh, atwitter at the prospect. “I make known to you, Miss Adelaide Devereaux, this gentleman, Lord Heath.”
“The Marquess of Heath, Alworth,” the man corrected him with a fond smile and a bow to her. “Gyles Whitmore.”
She responded with her most exquisite expression of pleasure. Wracking her brain for what she should have studied in Debrett’s for the past two months, she cursed her poor memory. Had she been half as devoted as her sisters Laurel and Imogen, she’d know at once his lineage, his worth, or at least, his sire’s full title. “How do you do, sir?”
“And this is Miss Adelaide Devereaux, my lord, recently come to town.”
“Miss Adelaide,” she corrected Alworth, allowing the more familiar form for so marvelous a new friend as an heir to a duke. “Miss Adelaide Devereaux of the family of the Earl of Barry, of Waterford and Dublin. Lately of London and now Brighton.”
She beamed as she completed the fullness of it. Heath would want to know precisely who she was and her worth. Not her financial worth. No, for that was not worth much at all. Sadly. Only two thousand. But she was the descendant of a long line of notable Norman lords who’d sailed to take Ireland after the Conqueror had claimed England.
“I am honored to make your acquaintance, Miss Devereaux. Are you in Brighton for a lengthy holiday?”
“The Season here only. Then we return to London. My two sisters and I are with our cousin, Lady William Downs.”
“Ah, I know her well,” her paragon said with a firm nod. “A light of London society.”
Addy had perceived that when she and her sisters had lived in that city with Cousin Cass for the past few months. But it was good to hear it confirmed by another.
The door burst open with a gush of cold air and a downpour of rain. Heath hovered over her, one sturdy arm to her shoulders, as another swept into the shop with a ting-a-ling-ling-ling of the bell.
“Heath!” cried the older lady who stood in the doorway.
“Come inside, Mama!” He ceased his very welcome shelter of Addy to pull the woman into the shop and shut the door behind her with a decided thud.
