She was such a little dab of a thing. How could he keep forgetting that? Maybe it was the rich color of her hair, like a good bay horse, or her eyes, that brown as deep as bitter chocolate. And she looked him in the eye. Nobody looked him in the eye. Not women, at least. It just wasn't done.
He found he liked it.
He glanced down at the half-finished letter. “I was just composing a threatening missive to the duke and a summons for my estate manager. Please. Sit down.”
She approached as she might have an uncertain animal.
“Did you learn anything new from our guest?” he asked.
Felicity lowered herself onto the green leather chair across from him, her spine not quite touching the seatback. “She likes your tea.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.”
It would never do to let her know that he was relieved she'd joined him. He valued her level head, he assured himself, ignoring the smile that fought to rise in response to that pugnacious little chin, the sudden desire to pull a lock free from that tortured bun and see if it was as soft as it looked.
“Nothing else?” he asked instead.
“Nothing else. What do you plan to do now?”
“With Miss Murphy? Until I find out just what is going on here, nothing. This all seems a bit too coincidental for my peace of mind.”
Felicity used her palms to smooth out the lap of her dress, which seemed her only way of displaying nerves. “As I am not familiar with your father the duke, I couldn't offer an opinion. Does he frequently resort to subterfuge?”
Looking back down at the letter, Flint scowled. “Frequently. But usually only among my brothers and me.”
Felicity looked up, frowning. “Why?”
He flashed on a memory of William, the oldest, lifting him by the scruff of his neck for the crime of laming his favorite hunter. William had damn near choked him, and it hadn't even been Flint who had been the culprit. But their father had intimated it just to see what would happen.
“He said conflict honed the senses,” Flint mused, then considered the current situation. “But the older I get the more I suspect he simply can't help himself.”
Another of his father's favorite themes had been that all it took to create unity among forces was a common enemy. Flint considered both his companion and the young woman upstairs and wondered if that was what his father was doing this time. Building a bond between him and Miss Chambers so she would come to trust him. Coincidence indeed.
Signing the brief missive to his father, he sanded it, affixed the wax seal and called Higgins to have a groom deliver it and the one to Mr. Everhill. Felicity waited patiently, her hands in her lap, questions boiling behind her eyes.
Flint gave himself enough time for Higgins to get well beyond eavesdropping range.
“So,” he said, learning back and considering his guest, “we are not dismissing my housekeeper for insults to your person?”
Felicity dismissed the question with a small wave of her hand. “Don't be silly. You'd have to fire every servant who protected their place in the hierarchy, which would be a tad disingenuous from the son of a duke, don't you think?”
She wasn't precisely smiling, but there was a challenging sparkle in her eyes that settled very low in Flint's middle. He did love a sassy woman, especially in bed. Too bad he had other things to discover, which the events of the day had delayed far too much already.
“I would almost be forced to suspect you of enjoying yourself right now, Miss Chambers,” he mused.
She outright grinned. “I do admit that repositioning small hands on piano keys does not afford quite so much enjoyment as...” She tilted her head, considering. “What exactly would you call today? A carnival? A challenge? A mayhem?”
“Since you have been involved,” he said, “a delight.”
Good. He got a blush out of her, mild but definite. It made the faint scattering of freckles over her nose stand out. He hated freckles. But somehow, he didn't hate these. Not at all.
While he was musing on Miss Chambers' more interesting attributes, she rose to her feet. “If there is nothing else you require of me,” she said, “I shall retreat to my room.”
Once again he was surprised, this time by disappointment. He deliberately maintained his place. “Miss Chambers, you don't have to ask my leave. You don't work for me.”
She gave her head a little tilt. “A difficult habit to break. Especially since I am still unsure exactly what my position is here.”
At that he rose. “You are my fiancée.”
