“And flirting is as simple as biting my lips when a gentleman speaks to me?” she asked doubtfully.
“Lip,” he corrected. “And despite your scepticism, yes. Men are simple creatures.”
“And yet I never know what you want.”
Telling her exactlywhatmost men wanted was not the best of ideas, so he settled for, “What men—what most people—want is to feel special. So smile, look interested, look at them as though they are the only thing in your world.”
“How?”
He lowered his gaze to hers and focused on the gold threading through her blue eyes. The lashes that framed them faded to invisible tips, and the expression in them was at first curiously searching. Then he smiled, razoring his attention on her, and touched her arm. “Like this,” he said, lowering his voice and stepping closer. She visibly swallowed. “Try it.”
A flush broke out across her skin, and he really, really should not be trying to make her flush, but it was irresistible. “Stop looking at me like that,” she said, her expression flitting between confused and worried.
“Peace, little bird,” he said, letting amusement enter his tone. “I’m not going to eat you.”
“Youlookas though you might.”
The idea wasn’t exactly unpleasant. “That’s another business deal entirely. Unless you would like to try?” He gave her a seductive smile, and her confusion dissolved into a deeper, hotter flush.
“Beast.”
“Concentrate, Beaumont. We are discussing flirtation.” He paused to think of an explanation that might make sense to her, pushing all other thoughts to one side. “Think of yourself as the lure.”
“The lure?”
“Fishing, sweetheart. Are you not familiar? The fisherman casts the lure and the fish, attracted to its false promises, bites the hook.”
She frowned. “I am a false promise?”
“Every woman is.” He took hold of her chin and her eyes widened. “Every smile you send, every time you look up through your eyelashes, every time you put your hand on their arm, you are sending out a lure. See if they bite.”
“That doesn’t sound very . . .” She wrinkled her nose. “Romantic.”
“You may find your romance once you have the gentleman’s attention.” He assessed her face. Still slightly flushed, eyes sparkling. Even this would be charming enough without any overt attempt at flirtation, if only he could get her to look this way around strangers.
“My lord?” she asked cautiously as he assessed her, still pinching her chin between his fingers. Finally, he released her and looked around, finding Villiers strolling along the path in the height of good fashion.
He looked down at Annabelle. “Remember everything I’ve told you. It’s time to practise.”
“What?” She clutched at his arm. “With an actual gentleman?”
“Villiers is the perfect target,” he assured her. “He’s my friend and not in the market for a wife, but he isalwaysin the market for a flirtation.”
“I can’t!”
“Of course you can. It’s easy, and he’ll make it especially so. Just remember all the things I’ve told you.”
“Regular gentlemen scare me,” she muttered.
Regular gentlemen. Jacob almost laughed. “I’m flattered. Now smile. He’s coming over. Andrelax, little bird. There’s nothing to be afraid of. If you’re at a loss, remember how much you hate me.”
She dug her nails into his arm and he almost laughed. But Villiers was upon them, a lazy smile on his face and his eyes alight with interest.
“Barrington,” he said with casual grace. “I see you’re taking your beloved for a walk. How delightful.”
Jacob toyed idly with Annabelle’s fingers in an attempt to ease the vise-like grip on his arm. “Just doing my duty,” he said. “As you know, I take it extremely seriously.”
Villiers offered Annabelle a sweeping bow. “Lady Annabelle. I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.”
