“What the devil do they teach at that school?”
“What subjects would you have them teach?” She tossed the question back at him.
Gone was the chit who had giggled with his sisters earlier. This was the woman he’d met in the park—the woman who’d sparked his interest almost immediately.
His frustration from a moment before fled. Anything worth having was worth fighting for. Was that what Allison Meadowbrook was doing? Making him fight?
A disturbing possibility. Hunt dragged his thoughts back to her question.
“I’d teach the basics, of course. Reading, Sums, Biology. Do you favor mathematics?” Hunt placed a hand on the small of her back to keep her from making a wrong turn.
She was grinning, shaking her head, and even in the shadowy corridor, he noticed the two small dimples again. When he did finally kiss her properly, he would not neglect them.
“What else?” she asked.
“I suppose ladies of refinement must spend a good deal of time learning etiquette—proper manners.”
“Were such lessons mandatory where you attended school? Were you taught proper posture? Did you memorize long sections of Debrette’s? The placement of a dinner setting? Polite conversation?”
Hunt nearly laughed before he realized she was being serious. Because, good God, of course not.
“Not at school. No. But my mother required me to learn all the popular dances. And with there being only one of me to partner six sisters, you can imagine I was in high demand.”
“But you were never required to take a class on manners where you attended school.”
“I was not.” Hunt scowled at a temporary loss.
She had, indeed, led him down a merry dance away from the subject he preferred to discuss, which was herself.
Because if he was going to woo her, he needed to understand what made her tick. He needed to know her likes, her dislikes.
Her passions.
He slowed his steps, realizing she was taking nearly two steps for each of his own.
And then, she surprised him by placing her opposite hand over his arm.
“Domestic management and sciences.” She leaned forward to catch his response. “By the little wrinkles between your eyes, I’ll wager you have no idea what that is.”
When she gave him a look such as that, all he cared about was pleasing her.
“Of course I do,” he lied. “The management of sciences of the domestic nature.”
Who the devil was this young woman? From everything Meadowbrook had told him about his daughter, Hunt was shocked to learn the girl had any appreciation for schooling at all—let alone such thoughtful opinions of its value.
Allison had dropped his arm, stepped away from him, and was now staring at him with dramatic disapproval. “For that reason alone, my lord, I could never marry you!” She held one hand backward over her eyes and sighed.
But she was laughing, and the sounds bubbling past her lips weren’t that trilling sound she’d feigned before.
No, her laughter was low and throaty and sent inappropriate sensations racing through him.
Sensations that could quickly become embarrassing.
When she had stepped away, she’d backed herself against the wall.
And now she was biting her bottom lip, staring up at him boldly. Her lush mouth, which had tempted him before, glistened plump and soft and inviting.
By God, she was flirting with him. In one swift move, he stood directly in front of her, his palms flat against the wall, his body less than six inches from hers. Without so much as touching her, he’d trapped her there.
