“If that was your intention, you have failed. I have known two women in my life who preferred men’s garments to dresses. I know their reasons, and am curious about yours.”
“I walked here.”
“Through town at night? Had you told me, I would have sent a carriage.”
“I would have had to refuse the offer. Besides, I often walk at night if I need to go somewhere. There is always the chance that I will have to run fast, however.”
“From assault?”
“Or a constable. They do not like finding women on the streets after dark. They think the worst. The pantaloons mean I can run if need be without my skirt hiked up around my hips.”
“What a tantalizing image. Your reasons are practical, then. Why no coat to complete the ensemble?”
She picked at the front of the shawl. “I do not have one. Also, when I have this on, no one notices what is on my legs. They are so far down as to be almost invisible in the night. The shawl makes me a woman. If I need to be seen as a man, I can easily drop it.”
“Why don’t you drop it now? You are definitely a woman to me, with or without it, and you are safe here.”
She smiled. Her red lips parted just enough to reveal glimpses of white teeth. Erotic images regarding that mouth settled in his head then and there. It would probably be weeks before they left.
“We both know I am not safe here.”
“You are safe from the dangers you mentioned. As for any other danger, a shawl is poor armor.”
“You won’t be scandalized to see me in men’s garments? You don’t find it unnatural?”
“The notion of sharing champagne with a woman in pantaloons is provocative.”
She shrugged off the shawl. Above the black pantaloons, she wore a dark brown man’s shirt. It billowed above where she had tucked it into the pantaloons’ waistband. No stays underneath, unless he was mistaken. How convenient.
She sipped her champagne, then laughed softly. “My nose feels funny. What a peculiar sort of wine. It bubbles all the way down too.” She sipped again. “I think I like it.”
One more sip and she lowered the glass. She gazed around the library. “There are a lot of books here.”
“Harry is a scholar. Some of these are his, and some he has taken from the family library.”
“It was good of you to allow him to deplete your library so he could enhance his own.”
If Harry had taken ten times the number, it would not deplete his own. Her comment made him wonder about something. “Do you know who I am?”
“A gentleman of some standing, I would say.”
He hesitated, possibly because he almost never had to identify himself. Everyone just knew. “I am Langford. The Duke of Langford.”
She did not appear impressed. “So you say.”
“Do you think I am lying?”
“I think you have dishonorable intentions and a man with that way of thinking will say anything to a woman.”
“I truly am Langford.”
“And you are also a man with special talents with women. If I raised an eyebrow at that, I must raise two at your claims to be a duke.”
The minx was determined to challenge him on all counts. She begged for him to be ruthless.
“As you learned in the garden, my claims regarding women were not idle boasts. As for being Langford . . .” He held up his hand. “Here is my signet ring. If you come over here, you can see the insignia on it.”
“I think I will stay here. If youarea duke, that is most peculiar.”
