Philip looked around and swore under his breath. They appeared decidedly suspicious behind the shrubbery, and he could easily reach out, draw her to him and kiss her. He’d done it at least a dozen times that year with that many women. Moreover, even knowing he had to protect her from scandal, he very much wanted to hold this sparkling minx in his arms, feel the curves contained by her pink-of-the-mode, fashionably low bodice, and taste her soft lips again.
Except her lips were flapping like a hummingbird’s wings.
“If you had not hunted me down, Lord Mercer, I would be safely enjoying a delightful conversation with those ladies. Did you know they use their fans to communicate, not with each other but with men, especially with the men they fancy?” Then she snapped her gloved fingers.
“Unquestionably, you knew! No one ever told me this before, but you must have been on the receiving end of a lady’s fan message many times, telling you she wanted to meet or wanted to be kissed.”
Philip was growing increasingly uncomfortable with this discussion.
“Can you be silent?” he ground out.
“Pish!Silence,” she scoffed. “There’s no point to it, is there?”
Point to it!
“What on earth do you mean? Of course silence has a point, woman! The absence of your incessant chattering.”
Instead of looking miffed she smiled.
“I know what silence is, but when two people are together, why be silent? Alone, you can contemplate. But surely the reason for two or more to gather is to communicate, discuss, chat, share. How on earth can one do any of that silently?”
All at once, impulsively,stupidly, he drew her close.
“I can assure you, Miss Bright, two people can communicate quite well, better even,withouttalking.”
Her green-gold eyes widened, and her pretty lips formed a smallO.
“Yes, I understand,” she said, leaning back so she could look into his eyes rather than at his cravat. “I know all about that type of thing,” Miss Bright assured him rather shockingly.
Did she? Besides their kiss at her house, how many had she shared? And with whom?
Philip didn’t know why he cared. In any case, he believed her knowledge stopped at a kiss while, at that instant, he longed to do more — a flyer against the garden’s stonewall came to mind. And yet he knew he must behave.
“Do you see what you’ve done by disobeying me?” he groused. “I would ask you to remember that this arrangement isnotmerely about your entrance into society. It is aboutmyfuture. The stakes are high, and I would appreciate if you would not go out of your way to be in bad bread!”
He had uncharacteristically raised his voice, but he feared she wasn’t taking him seriously.
“Listen to me, Miss Bright. I do not intend to be pushed into marriage by some female who sees me as a convenient way out of her own trouble. Even if that female is you. Do you understand?”
“I do,” Miss Bright said, looking very agreeable. “You are still annoyed with Miss Waltham and hence snapping at me like a crabby turtle. I was merely in a group of ladies whom I can only suppose are respectable. It wasn’t as if I went off with someone such as yourself, my lord.”
She let that sink in while he dropped his arms from her. Then Miss Bright gave him a saucy smile, which unexpectedly inflamed him, before she turned on her heel and retreated to the security of the interior.
With the force of habit, Philip nearly called her back. After all, they were alone and hadn’t been discovered. It seemed a waste of a good opportunity.
“Recall the brandy,” he reminded himself, thinking of the sturdy ships which Philip hoped would carry his newly produced brandy from France to British shores on a regular basis. Above all, he needed the magistrate to prevent any bad blood between him and Lord Perrin and the rest of the Waltham family.
Following Miss Bright and her pleasing rump, he vowed not to let himself be forced to marry Miss Waltham, who didn’t tickle his fancy the way a certain other female did, even if he would get a very good deal on shipping costs for the rest of his life.
PHILIP DIDN’T LET THE chit out of his sight for the rest of the evening. And he enjoyed having her in his arms during her first waltz. Miss Bright giggled when they began, what with him placing a hand on her back, before she became serious while trying not to trip him or step on his toes.
Soon, she was moving smoothly around the ballroom while he muttered an occasional “right,” “left,” or “head up.”
For his part, with her as his partner, he preferred it to the contra-dances they’d been doing earlier. She was a good height, nice to look at, and smelled like a meadow in spring. The only thing more enjoyable might be a ballum rancum, during which the Cyprians wore not a single stitch of clothing while dancing with the men who were fully clothed. It was exciting and arousing for about two dances, and then even that became tedious.
The last time he’d gone to such a dance, he’d felt a little embarrassed by the other men pawing at their partners or exclaiming rude compliments, and had ended up taking his chosen female upstairs to a private room for a proper swiving.
For a few brief moments, he imagined Miranda Bright naked as a needle in his arms. Dancing would be acceptable, but tupping would be inevitable.
