The humor glinting in his eyes was a balm to her ruffled nerves.
“Well,Ithink you’re both,” she said impulsively.
“What you think is what matters to me, my dear Miss Billings.”
The endearment and intensity of his regard made her heart thump against the cage of her ribs. She found it difficult to breathe. And not just because of her corset.
Don’t be a ninny. He’s obviously just taking pity on you. Doing the pretty because he’s a friend of Father’s.
“You, um, don’t care what others think?” she managed.
“I’m a busy man. The opinion of others is a distraction that I don’t have time for.”
How she admired and envied his confidence.
“I wish I could be like you,” she said. “I wish the opinions of others didn’t matter.”
“Is that why you were crying?”
His acuity took her off guard. She pulled back on instinct, yet his hand closed over hers, keeping her on his arm. Not with force—she could have pulled free—but his touch had an engrossing warmth, one that made her grow still. His heat seeped through her satin gloves, the sensation of being trapped by his long fingers setting off quivers in her belly.
“You need hide nothing from me, Miss Billings,” he said. “If we are to further our acquaintance, it would be best for us to be honest with one another.”
Stunned, she came to a halt. “You wish to further your acquaintance withme?”
His brows lifted. “Why does that surprise you?”
“Because you’re…”Handsome as a prince. And rich and powerful. Why would you want to get to knowme?“You’re my father’s business associate,” she finished lamely.
He studied her. “Do you find me old, Miss Billings? Too old to be your friend?”
The idea was laughable. He radiated virile energy, the essence of a man in his prime.
“No,” she blurted. “Definitely not.”
His lips gave a faint twitch. He had a beautiful mouth, she thought. Thin, firm-looking lips with a wicked curve to the bottom one.
What would it be like to be kissed by that mouth?
The shockingly wanton thought burst into her head. She shoved it out just as quickly, told herself that it was idle curiosity. She’d never been kissed and feared that no one would everwantto kiss her.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said solemnly. “Now tell me what caused your tears.”
He was so strong and unflappable. The desire to unburden herself was irresistible.
“I’m a horrid hostess,” she admitted. “A complete failure.”
“How so?”
She appreciated his bluntness. That he didn’t try to placate or minimize her worries. As he continued navigating them along the garden path, it felt natural to tell him everything.
“I’m ill-at-ease at large gatherings. When I’m nervous, I tend to chatter. About the inanest topics.” She paused, then with a shrug confessed, “I’m supposed to make a good impression on Viscount Carlisle. He needs a wife with a dowry, you see, which is the one attraction I do have. Father would be ever so pleased to have a title in the family. But the problem is that I find Lord Carlisle rather, well, intimidating. And, as I’ve said, when I’m anxious I go on about the most nonsensical things.”
“I’m certain your conversation was as charming as you are.”
“At supper, I went on about bonnets and gloves for an entirehour,” she said grimly.
Instead of looking horrified—as Viscount Carlisle had during her lengthy soliloquy about frippery—Mr. Garrity slanted her an amused look. “What is it about Carlisle that you find intimidating?”
