“No.” She tossed the word over her shoulder.
“No, because you don’t accept my apology?” he asked.
“I accept your apology.” She continued to fake-study the wine.
“Excellent,” came his reply. “I’m ready to entertain yours now.”
Her mouth nearly fell open. She was glad she wasn’t facing him. Surprise and nonchalance were pure enemies. “Mine?” she managed finally.
“Yes.”
She turned to see him clasp his arms behind his back and wait.
“My what?” She placed one fist on her hip.
“Your apology, of course.” He leaned back against the wall and crossed his feet at the ankles.
“My apology toyou?” Her fist remained primed on her hip. What could he possibly believe she owedhiman apology for?
“Yes.” He blinked at her slowly, a pleasant smile on his distracting lips.
“For what?”
“For calling me an ass. Though I’ll admit it sounds much better when done in French.” He tilted his head to the side. He was boyishly charming when he tilted his head to the side. Especially when paired with the appearance of that adorable dimple in his cheek. But she was still angry.
“I’m not about to apologize to you,” she announced in as sweet a voice as she could muster.
“Why ever not?” He looked truly inquisitive.
“Because I’m not sorry. Youwerebeing an ass.” Then she cursed in a string of a French that caused him to put his hands in the air as if in surrender. He pushed himself off the wall and stepped toward her.
“Why do I have the feeling if I’d turned out to be Rafe last night you’d be apologizing now?”
Nonchalance be damned. This time her mouth truly did drop open. “If you’d turned out to be the viscount I wouldn’t be here right now. I’d be looking for another position.”
“That’s heartening, I suppose. So, you’ll accept impropriety from the brother of a lord but not the lord himself?”
She snapped her mouth shut. “I’ll take it from a bachelor and a houseguest who had too much to drink but not from a married man who employs me.”
“More heartening still. Very well, I suppose I shall be mollified by the fact that you accepted my apology at least. But why would you accept my apology and say no to my proposal to have a drink with me?”
This answer was simple. “Because I don’t make it a habit to have drinks with strange men at inappropriate times.” Of course she had every intention of having a drink with him. A drink would be the best way to ask him questions while his inhibitions were lowered. But she mustn’t seem tooeagerto have a drink with him. This was the kind of man who wouldn’t value a drink with a woman who agreed to it too readily.
“Who’s strange?” Cade replied. “You’ve known me sinceyesterday. Besides, the best types of drinks are had at inappropriate times. Often with inappropriate people.”
Danielle bit her lip but couldn’t entirely hide her smile. She’d never met anyone like him. Not in England at least. He was inappropriate. He was incorrigible. And he was entirely too handsome for his own good. Or hers. “You make me laugh, Mr. Cavendish. I will admit that much.”
“Excellent. I promise to make you laugh more when you and I drink this fine bottle of Madeira later this week.” He stepped forward and plucked the bottle of wine back off the table.
“I’llconsiderit,” she said, sweeping past him to step toward the door.
“Ah, we’ve gone from ‘no’ to ‘I’ll consider it.’ Progress.” He grinned at her.
Her fingers on the door handle, Danielle turned back to contemplate him. My, but he was a fine-looking man. Mrs. Huckleberry was right. “No is boring. I don’t like to be boring.”
With the wine bottle still in his hand, he bowed. “I assure you, mademoiselle, you are anything but.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
