“Oh. Well. I can’t imagine why,” I insisted with false bravado.
Mr. Dorian wasn’t the least bit fooled. He watched me in silence for a few moments. “Can’t you?” he murmured as he moved even closer. The tips of his freshly polished shoes kissed the hem of my gown, and I fought against the instinct to step back. The blood roared in my ears, but it still wasn’t loud enough to drown out my thundering heartbeat.
“Then, the dedication in your book …” I couldn’t make myself finish the sentence.
His smile grew a little more. “In my defense, I never expected you to read it.”
I let out a laugh. “I didn’t. Cleo showed it to me.”
“Ah. I see,” he said with a self-effacing grin.
“Well, Ihadalready read it more than once,” I pointed out, unable to keep from smiling back.
“Fair enough. No need to torture yourself any more,” he quipped.
My smile faded. “You know how talented you are.”
He ducked his head and swallowed. Then he looked back at me, his expression now serious. “I don’t think you understand the inadequacy I feel when I am in your presence.”
I frowned and slowly shook my head. “Whyever would you?”
“Because,” he began. “Minnie, I—”
But before Mr. Dorian could continue, there was a loud knock at the front door that startled us both. “That must beyour brother,” I said as I stepped away, pressing a hand to my heated cheek.
Mr. Dorian was still watching me with that sharp gaze of his, but he seemed to acknowledge that the moment was over. At least for now. “It’s about damn time,” he grumbled.
“I’ll get it.”
“Wait.” Mr. Dorian grabbed my arm just as I moved by him. He then crept over to the picture window and gently pulled aside the velvet drape. He let out a muttered curse. “It’s Linden.”
“But he’s early,” I insisted, as if that would change anything.
Mr. Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Only by a little bit. And if my blasted brother wasn’t late, it wouldn’t matter.”
I began to wring my hands, unable to mask my nerves any longer. “What should we do?”
Mr. Dorian grimaced. “We stick to the plan for now and hope Miles shows up very soon. Do you think you can stall him?”
“I can try,” I said, sounding uncertain.
“I’ll make myself scarce and keep an ear out for my brother,” Mr. Dorian said as he headed towards the door that connected to the dining room. Then he paused and turned back to me. “If you can’t, there’s no harm in letting this go. Tell him you have a headache.”
I gritted my jaw. I had no intention of letting the baron leave without answering at least some questions, but I simply nodded. “All right.”
Mr. Dorian held my gaze. “Just … be careful.” Then he turned and left the room. I took a deep breath and headed for the door. It was time for the performance to begin.
Lord Linden had been understandably surprised when I answered the door, but did his best to hide it as I showed him into the parlor.
“Would you like a drink?” I asked, attempting to sound blasé and failing miserably.
His mouth curved in amusement. “A whisky, if you have it.”
“Of course.” Then I made my way over to the bar, relieved that I had something to do. I measured and poured the drink, then handed it to the baron. As he took it, his fingers grazed mine.
“You’re shaking, Mrs. Harper,” he said with a smile.
I certainly was, but not for the reason he was thinking. It made for a good cover, though, so I decided to lean into his impression. I bowed my head shyly and moved to sit on the sofa, which provided a clear view of the door, behind which Mr. Dorian was currently standing. Just the thought of him calmed me a bit. I gestured to the chair in front of me and turned to the baron.
