Sheet music, she saw to her disappointment. Most had lyrics in English or Latin or French,and there were handwritten notes on the pages, including the sorts of musical signs a musician would use to make notes to himself.
Orherself. The handwriting was graceful and precise. And some comments were in Spanish. Possibly Italian. The two languages confused Gwendolyn sometimes—
There was a sound at the door. She closed the binder just as the door swung open wider. Lord Ellisfield leaned against the doorframe as if he had been watching her.
He didn’t leer, but his gaze did flick to the swells of her breasts above her bodice. She shifted the binder, wrapping her arms around it to block his view. He gave her a rueful look that was part repentance over being so ungentlemanly and part annoyance over being caught. He invited himself in. He’d changed for dinner. Since they were in the country, he wore boots, but his clothes were finely tailored all the same. His claret jacket over buff-colored breeches seemed molded to his shoulders and complemented his fair hair. His shaving soap boasted a hint of pine. The scent made her nose twitch. She ducked her head to hide her discomfort by pretending to give him a small curtsy of respect.
“I’d heard you were a bookworm, Miss Lanscarr,” he said lazily.
Gwendolyn reached down and picked up the Edgeworth books, but she kept the binder for protection. “Guilty. What you heard is true.”
He walked toward her with the slow, deliberate steps men used when they wished to impress upon women their interest. Gwendolyn tried notto laugh. Men saw themselves as stalking tigers. But she and her sisters referred to this particular saunter as the “pouncing kitten.” She hoped the man was sober.
Lord Ellisfield came to a stop in front of her. “I like you.”
She caught a whiff of drink fumes on his breath but not the overpowering scent of earlier. Apparently he had not dived into the whisky she’d seen him holding. “Thank you, my lord,” she replied dutifully. She gave him an equally dutiful smile, one that didn’t discourage, but also didn’t encourage. “Excuse me. I need to take these to my room.” She attempted to slip by him, but his arm came out to block her path. They stood so close, she could see the shadow of his beard. Her demureness left. She faced him. A gentleman would step back.
He did not, and it made her angry. Even in his cups, he should not foist himself upon her.
She was about to say as much when he asked, “Who is the man with you and Lady Orpington?”
“Do you mean her nephew, Mr. Curran?”
“My godmother has no nephew. Other than Vera Newsome, she has no relatives.”
Gwendolyn did not panic. In fact, the confrontation was a touch thrilling to her. She was in the thick of it, whether Mr. Steele wished her to be or not.
“Obviously, she does,” she replied. “Mr. Curran.”
Lord Ellisfield studied her intently and then shifted his weight, the arm blocking her pathcoming down. “I was warned you are a bold one. I now believe it.”
“Bold, my lord? Who should I thank for the compliment?” she asked brightly.
He gave a soft laugh. “Lady Orpington.”
“Andshetold you that Mr. Curran isn’t her nephew?” Gwendolyn pressed, deciding to feign ignorance.
“No, Mother did. Lady Orpington only sings your praise, which means you know how to play whist.”
“She is very partial to the game.”
“Exceedingly so.” He made a self-deprecating sound. “I have no interest in it, which she counts against me.”
Gwendolyn laughed because she was certain it was true, and he smiled back. To her relief, he also took a step away, giving her a bit of breathing room.
“Your mother plays as well,” she reminded him.
He nodded. “She excels at the game.” He tapped the top edge of the binder she held. “What did you find?”
“Oh, maps. I enjoy reading them.”
“Beautyandintelligence,” he murmured admiringly. Gwendolyn simpered a bit, the way women were expected to, while praying he didn’t ask to see exactly what was in the binder.
He might be attracted to her, but no man liked to be lied to.
So she confessed, “I also have a book by Mrs. Edgeworth. I’ll open it first.”
He scrunched his nose as if he could not understand her enthusiasm. “I’m not much of a reader.”
