“Lord Thaddeus will not speak of what transpired. Self-incrimination is not his style.”
“You probably have the right of it,” Miss Ashewood muttered.
Then she folded the penknife, a sign of trust that warmed James. When she removed her spectacles, tucking them and the tool into the pocket of her skirts, he nearly smiled. What an unusual little creature.
“Lady Thurston believes everything her son says.” Miss Ashewood’s long lashes veiled her eyes. “In her estimation, he can do no wrong. He will find a way to be rid of me…but no matter. After tonight, I have no desire to stay. I will find employment elsewhere.”
James found the injustice of the situation intolerable. “I will speak to the Thurstons, if you wish. Bear witness to what happened.”
She lifted her lashes, confirming his suspicion. Her eyes were rounded in shape and uncommonly large. With her spectacles removed, he saw flecks of gold in her rich brown irises.
“Why would you do that?” Twin furrows appeared between her straight brows. “You don’t even know me.”
His offer of assistance clearly puzzled her, her honesty tugging at his chest. What had this young woman been through to expect so little from the world? He was merely acting as any gentleman of honor should.
He kept his tone light. “I know you are industrious and organized enough to carry a penknife. To open an urgent letter, for instance. Or to defend yourself against an entitled bounder.”
She stared at him. Then, slowly, her lips curved. He found himself dazzled...and he wasn’t a fellow prone to losing his equilibrium. Yet her warmth was so unexpected, her beauty so pure and natural that his breath jammed, his heart stumbling against his ribs.
“It is not a penknife,” she said. “It’s a pruning tool.”
“All right,” he said after a moment. “I shall bite.”
His choice of words betrayed his sudden awareness that Miss Evelyn Ashewood was a toothsome creature. He had a baffling urge to nibble on her full lips, the dainty curve of her ear. Despite its prudish cut, her gown didn’t hide the tempting fullness of her bosom. Would her skin feel as silky as it looked? He flashed to an image of himself kissing his way down her tender neck and décolletage, planting a little love bite atop the firm swell of her breast…
Bloody hell, what is the matter with me? She is the hired companion of my hostess, for God’s sake. Am I no better than that blasted skirt-chaser Thaddeus?
“Why do you carry a pruning tool?” he added hastily.
“Lady Thurston enjoys horticulture. Assisting her with her hobby is a part of my duties. In truth, it is the reason I took this job.”
Her wistfulness was nearly as enchanting as her smile. By Jove, what was it about this female? If he were honest, she was neither the prettiest nor the liveliest of his acquaintance, and yet…and yet she struck a chord in him that no woman had before. The awareness had him reeling. It also made him suddenly, inexplicably certain that he wanted to know more about her.
“You enjoy working with plants, Miss Ashewood?” he asked.
“It is my passion. My mama…” She hesitated. “She was an herbalist and taught me many things. She passed when I was fourteen.”
“I am sorry to hear it. Have you other family?”
She bit her lip and shook her head. When she didn’t elaborate, he didn’t press.
“I am certain you would like to return to the party, my lord,” she said. “I should be moving along as well.”
He’d nearly forgotten the ball. That was how singular this encounter was for him. Alone with Miss Evelyn Ashewood, he felt as if the rest of the world had dropped away. Yet proprieties were proprieties, and he wouldn’t rescue a lady only to compromise her.
He bowed. “It has been a pleasure, Miss Ashewood.”
“The pleasure was mine.” Her smile was sweet and shy, so captivating that his heart thumped helplessly and his groin flooded with heat. “Although we probably will not meet again, I shan’t forget tonight.”
She bobbed a curtsy before heading off. He remained, standing alone in the moonlit jungle, bemused and strangely elated. Perhaps the family tradition hadn’t skipped him after all.
And Miss Evelyn Ashewood was wrong.
She would see him again…and soon.
Chapter Seven
“Have you come up with a name for the varietal you discovered?” Gigi asked.
