Addy didn’t like that. Not at all.
“Pleasant,” she repeated.
“A nonsensical means of passing the time,” he added, reverting to his haughty self.
“Do you know what’s truly nonsensical, Your Graceship?” she asked, using the incorrect form of address she knew irked him. “The way you refuse to have any fun.”
His nostrils flared. “It is merelyYour Grace, madam, a fact which I suspect you know and yet continue to ignore so that you may irritate me. And I don’t refuse to have fun. I am merely a man who shoulders too many burdens for frivolous amusements.”
He wasn’t wrong about the first part of what he had said. As for the second, it made her wonder just what his burdens were. Had she judged him too harshly?
Addy settled her hands in her lap, lacing her fingers together so that she wouldn’t be tempted to reach for him. “I am but a confused Yankee, frustrated by your unfamiliar customs. You ought to take pity on me.”
“Pity is the last thing I feel in regard to you, Miss Fox.”
“Oh?” The fluttering sensation spread, moving through the rest of her. “Whatdoyou feel in regard to me then,Your Grace?”
“Vexation.”
His response was instant and biting.
She scowled at him. “Is that all?”
“Frustration.”
“Do you like anyone, Marchingham?” she asked, trying to tamp down the disappointment rising within her at his words.
“Of course I do.”
“Aside from yourself, I mean,” she amended, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice.
He bit out a short laugh, taking her by surprise. Mirth didn’t seem like something the Duke of Marchingham would indulge in. Far too plebian. And yet, astoundingly, he had. Andshehad been the one to make him do it.
Addy grinned, ridiculously pleased by this development.
“You look far too happy for a woman who is about to find herself sleeping in the stables tonight,” he said mildly, one ducal brow winging upward.
“Has the Duke of Marchingham just deigned to make a joke? Because if so, I will have to write to the newspapers. I’m sure it ought to be reported across the land. At the very least, it should be marked down upon an ancient scroll so that this sacred moment will forever be remembered.”
He laughed again, and Addy found herself alarmingly affected by the way his smile transformed his face. His lips curved upward, and amusement gleamed in his eyes. She couldn’t look away.
“Do you know, Miss Fox, that I’ve never met a woman capable of such astonishing insolence?” he asked conversationally.
Addy laughed. “I would be disappointed if you had. I consider myself an original.”
His lips twitched. “Quite.”
He was so proper and stiff-backed. Everything about him was perfection, from his neatly combed golden hair to his freshly shaven jaw, right down to his tweed trousers and coat and the well-shined leather of his boots. It made her long to muss hishair, to shock him. Addy told herself that was why she reached out, grasping a handful of his shirt, why she pulled him to her and sealed her lips to his, kissing the Duke of Marchingham.
CHAPTER 5
Lion knew that either Miss Adelia Fox was a liar—or those half a dozen Swiss lads hadn’t shown her a bloody thing about the art of kissing. Because she had frozen the moment her mouth pressed against his. Elation surged through him, along with a dizzying swell of desire. Her lips were soft and lush and silken.
They were just as he had thought they would be, only better. So much better.
He took control, cupping her nape and holding her to him, tenderly coaxing her into a response. Tentatively, she began kissing him back. Her actions were slow and hesitant at first, but she caught on swiftly, her lips chasing his.
Her scent enveloped him, sweetly floral. Kissing her was an intoxicating thrill, and now that he had her tempting mouth, he never wanted to stop. She made a throaty sound, part sigh, part moan, and he seized the opportunity to deepen the kiss, giving her his tongue. Her reaction was like an electric current straight down his spine. She opened for his exploration, pressing closer to him on the piano bench until her breasts were crushed into his chest.
