Belatedly, it occurred to him that she had chastised him and that he was still holding the besmirched handkerchief like an idiot. He stuffed it into his pocket again.
“Of course I don’t curse around Pandy,” he said, offering her a bow. “At least, not often. To what do I owe the unexpected honor of your presence this afternoon?”
She crossed the chamber to him, not stopping until she was close enough to touch, her sweet perfume tempting him as surely as her presence did. “I’ve decided to call in the favor you owe me.”
Brandon blinked. “The favor?”
“Yes.” A hesitant, small smile curved her kissable pink lips. “The favor you owe me for the day I entertained Pandy for you. You do remember it, do you not?”
“Of course.” He curled his fingers into fists at his sides to keep from touching her.
They had last parted in silence and hurt disappointment, and he didn’t know where he stood with her.
“It took me a long time to settle upon the favor I most wanted to ask of you,” she said softly, her dulcet voice making his cock twitch to attention.
“Is it wrong of me to hope that the favor is a lewd one?” he asked, half serious, half in jest.
She chuckled, the sound husky. “Not wrong, perhaps, but I’m afraid if you have your hopes set upon a lewd favor, you are doomed to disappointment.”
Well, blast. He hoped she hadn’t come armed with more lists of prospective brides.
“If you want me to consider any additional listings of debutantes I might court, I’m afraid it’s a favor I cannot honor,” he warned. “I’ll pitch them into the fire first.”
Her smile fled, and she took a deep breath, looking suddenly nervous. “It isn’t that either.”
“Well, what is it, then?” He didn’t mean to sound impatient, but the suspense was as painful as standing before her and keeping himself from taking her into his arms.
“Your grandmother paid a call upon me earlier today.”
At the mention of his grandmother, Brandon’s rampant prick wilted a bit. “I cannot think why she would have done so.”
“Can you not?” She tilted her head, gazing at him shrewdly with her storm-tossed-sea eyes. “I do believe she came to plead your case.”
“Fucking hell,” he muttered.
“Brandon, there is that dreadful language again,” she chastised with mock solemnity.
“Forgive me. Thinking about Grandmother pleading anything on my behalf makes me bilious.”
“Ah, your sensitive disposition,” she teased.
“What did she say to you?” he blurted, needing to know.
By God, if Grandmother had done anything to ruin his chances with Lottie…
“She told me that you’ve been sending the funds you earn from the Society to an orphanage that was a favored cause of your mother’s.”
“Oh.” His ears went hot at her persistent regard.
“She also told me that Grenfell was a rotter.”
He inclined his head. “She’s not wrong, though I would describe the bastard in far less complimentary terms.”
“And she said that I should be brave enough to trust my heart,” Lottie said.
Longing he was too afraid to feel licked up his spine. “She did?”
Bless his grandmother. Her advice thus far had been sound.
