Mr. Simpson’s eyes widened and he looked as if he would have been far more pleased if she had not noticed the omission. “I am sure that His Lordship doesn’t wish to bother with…”
Ignoring his nervous mumbling, Alex continued. “Milord, may I present Mr. Josiah Simpson.”
The man shot to his feet and bowed low.
Branford inclined a curt nod.
“Mr. Simpson, this is the Earl of Branford. You know—the one who is a bit confused about what grows in his gardens.”
The poor fellow looked ready to expire on the spot.
She turned back to Branford. “Mr. Simpson is Secretary of The London Botanical Society, milord, and is extremely knowledgeable. He is giving a very informative series of lectures on native English shrubs next week. Perhaps you would care to attend?”
Simpson was now turning beet red and making choking sounds. Branford had to stifle a laugh. The young lady was utterly outrageous, but not in any of the ways he had been led to expect. As far as he could recall, nobody had ever dared to challenge his intellect in so brazen a manner!
“Perhaps I will,” he replied politely. “But now, if you will kindly excuse us, Mr. Simpson …”
The man bowed once more, then sank back into his chair in relief, using the large damask napkin to wipe the beads of sweat from his forehead.
Branford took Alex’s elbow in a firm grasp and guided her out to the dance floor. A slight buzz ran through the room. As he rarely danced at society balls—and never twice with the same lady—it seemed that people were curious …
Branford ignored the subtle stares and concentrated on turning the conversation to his own purpose this time around.
“Tell me, Miss Chilton, what do you do in Town for amusement?” he asked before she had a chance to speak.
Alex looked at him blankly.
“Do you ride?” he pressed. It was considered quite fashionable for ladies of thetonto meet their admirers for a canter along Rotten Row during the late afternoon, thus such an activity would provide an excuse to spend more time with her.
“I enjoy riding in the country, but we do not keep much of a stable in Town,” she replied. “It’s too expensive. We just have a pair for my aunt’s carriage and Justin—that is my younger brother—has his saddle horse, as, of course, a young man must.”
An opening was there for him to take. He decided to cast subtlety to the wind and find out exactly where things stood.
Lowering his lashes, the earl summoned his most seductive voice and leaned in a little closer. “In that case, perhaps you will allow me to mount you.”
Her face betrayed no understanding of what he had just implied. “I’m sure that is most kind of you, sir,” replied Alex earnestly, “but I couldn’t possibly ask my aunt to incur the expense of stabling a mount solely for my own pleasure. She does enough for me and brother as it is?—”
She stopped abruptly, a look of embarrassment flitting over her features. “But of course that is no concern of yours, milord. Forgive me for mentioning personal matters.”
Bloody hell.Branford felt a sudden surge of anger as he realized that she was definitelynotthe jaded wanton he had been led to expect. No lady with any interest in a dalliance could have failed to catch the suggestive innuendo of his last remark. And despite what Society thought of him, he did have a strict code of honor—the idea of ruining an innocent was something he found beyond contemptable.
His jaw tightened …
“Is something the matter, milord?” asked Alex.
He forced his attention back to the moment. “W-What?”
“Your expression is awfully frightening,” she observed. “You look as if you are about to pounce on some poor creature.”
Yes, someone shall soon feel my claws, he thought to himself. Unclenching his teeth, he gave an apologetic nod., “My apologies, Miss Chilton. My thoughts were momentarily elsewhere.”
She looked at him thoughtfully. “I can hardly blame you for that, sir. These glittering entertainments are all so utterly boring and superficial, aren’t they?”
The young lady had done it again.She had him smiling in spite of his dark mood. One thing was certain—a conversation with Miss Chilton was most definitely not boring.
Once again, the music ended sooner than Branford expected. He escorted Alex back to a chair near her aunt, but made no move to walk away. “You seem to have a great knowledge of botany,” he remarked.
Alex lifted her chin slightly. “I do, milord.” There was a glimmer in her eyes that seemed to challenge him to ridicule her. “In fact, I am working on a book on native wildflowers and hope to have it published.”
