Her gaze startled away from the plate of fluffy scones. Surprise shone there. It occurred to him that no one had ever asked her that question.
“Miss Tait,” she said at last.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Tait.”
And this time the twitch about her mouth did turn into a smile. A knowing one. Oh, they’d met—and how!—her smile acknowledged.
“And yours?” she asked.
A mild frisson of panic struck through him. Of course, he would need to tell her his name. He had several—Duke of Amherst, Marquess of Greenwich, Earl of Kingston-upon-Hull, and the list of titles went on. He simply needed to pick one.
“Mr. Lucas Kendall,” he found himself saying, “at your service.”
The name wasn’t exactly a lie.
But it wasn’t precisely honest either.
His given name was Lucas, and his surname was Kendall, butAmherstwould’ve been the proper way to introduce himself to this woman.
But he couldn’t.
The admission of his title would destroy the ease that was growing between them in an instant. Her hard-won smile would fade, and she would begin treating him like a duke.
And he didn’t want to be treated like a duke.
Well, not by her.
As matters stood now, she saw him as a man. She would stop the moment she heard the wordduke.
And here was the thing: She didn’t have to know.
They weren’t in a London drawing room. They were in Matlock Bath, a dozy, little spa town, for a day or two, and then they would never see each other again. So, really, where was the harm in not telling her?
She lost the battle with her clear craving for the scone and reached for it. Discreetly, Lucas pushed forward a dish of clotted cream, followed by strawberry jam.
Again, that little smile appeared.
He’d pleased her.
He liked that.
He watched in silence while she layered cream and jam onto the scone and took a bite. Her eyes shut for a second of bliss. He wasn’t sure he’d ever enjoyed anything as much as this woman enjoying that scone.
He envied the scone. To be tasted by her…
To give her bliss…
He cleared his throat. That was no good direction for his thoughts.
She blinked. Such was her bliss that she’d momentarily forgotten about him. Her head canted, and her eyebrows drew together. “I thought your name would start withLord.”
“Oh?” Unease crawled through him. “Why is that?”
“It’s the way you talk.”
“What about it?”
“Uppity,” she said with finality, as if that one word explained all.
