Hyacinth frowned. “I thought we agreed you would call me Hyacinth.”
“I did only a few minutes ago, but perhaps I prefer Miss Bridewell when I tease you.”
Hyacinth jaw dropped and an odd little gasp escaped between her lips.
Tristan smiled. “Tell me when you first became interested in paleontology.”
Hyacinth grappled for thoughts. Any thoughts that weren’t about the color of his eyes, the shape of his plush lower lip, the tantalizing spice and bergamot scent of him.
Finally, she managed to comprehend what he’d asked of her.
“From a young age, honestly. My family would visit the seaside and after I found my first seashell, I was curious. I read all I could about sea creatures and fossils, and that led to discovering the work of Mary Anning.”
“Your curiosity is tenacious,” he observed.
And it didn’t sound like a criticism but a compliment.
“It is. I am forever asking questions.” She studied his profile as he glanced away from her. “You must be a curious sort too.”
“I am.” He looked back at her, one dark brow arched. “I’m curious about you.”
Hyacinth let out a shaky laugh. “About me?” Her heartbeat rang loud in her ears. “I’m not nearly as interesting as even one of these bones,” she said, for some reason needing to deflect the attention she’d been craving from him for so long.
“I disagree. You see, I think anyone with a voracious curiosity is interesting, and I know that about you, but not much else.”
“W-what is it you wish to know about me?”
He assessed her a moment, his gaze searching her face.
It was both delicious and nerve-wracking to be the object of his scrutiny.
“Why are you a wallflower?”
Hyacinth laughed. Too loudly and not at all ladylike, but it burst out of her.
Tristan grinned. “Is it such a ridiculous question?”
“No, it’s simply that… Well, isn’t the answer obvious within the definition of the term itself?”
He frowned. “Are you accusing me of being obtuse?”
“No!” Heavens, she was offending him and he was standing close enough for her to reach out and touch him if she dared.
“I suppose I’m avoiding saying the embarrassing truth that I am a wallflower because I do not tend to be very popular at the balls.” There. She’d said it.
Tristan drew in a breath, crossed his arms, studied her as if she was a curious equation. “That is the curious part to me. Why are you not popular?”
Hyacinth chuckled nervously. “I suppose in a Season full of debutantes, I’m not the most?—”
Tristan lifted a hand as if to forestall whatever she planned to say. “You’re lovely, Hyacinth, intelligent, kind, curious.”
There were so many compliments piled atop each other that she felt a bit dizzy.
“And Emma is too. And so I fail to grasp why the two of you aren’t as sought after as other debutantes.”
“Emma is all of those things,” Hyacinth affirmed, her heart and mind still grappling with how highly he seemed to think of her.
He dipped his head. “She would argue I’m saying those things because I’m her brother, but I have no such excuse with you.”
