That earned him a sharp look.“So, youarea Tory.”
“I am…often found in their company,” he said lightly.
“That is not the same thing.”
A corner of his mouth lifted.“You’re right.”
She folded her arms.“You’re evasive.”
They slowed without quite stopping, the gravel path crunching beneath their steps.He turned toward her fully then, close enough that the sleeve of his coat brushed her shoulder…so lightly it might have been an accident.
She noticed the contact.Of course she did.But she did not step away.He would not intimidate her.
He inclined his head.“Evasive?Ah.Another thing you don’t like about me.Very well.Let us continue to list my sins since we’ve begun so neatly.”One finger lifted.“I choose nuance where you admire certainty.”Another.“I associate with men whose politics offend you…even though your own father is one of them.”Then his hand fell, still not quite touching her arm but close enough that she could feel the warmth of him through the thin wool of her pelisse.“And perhaps my greatest sin of all…”
He paused.Deliberately.The space between them felt suddenly charged, taut as a drawn bow.
“I possess influence in Parliament,” he said quietly.“Power.”His eyes did not leave hers.“Power you—by virtue of your sex—are barred from wielding, no matter how capable you might be.”
Her breath stuttered, traitorous and unwelcome.
Then she laughed once, sharply.“You thinkthatis why I dislike you?”
“I think,” he said, his voice low and intimate despite the open park around them, “it would be reason enough to make you resent me.”
She stepped closer, just enough that her skirts brushed his boots, just enough that his knuckles hovered beside her sleeve, so near she was acutely aware of his restraint.
“You mistake me, my lord,” she said coolly.“I do not resent power.”Her smile was thin.“I resent men who presume I am unable to wield it.”
Something flickered across his face then—approval, unmistakable and decidedly not safe.
“Ah,” he murmured.“Then I stand corrected.”
For a moment, neither of them moved.The water glinted.A breeze tugged at her bonnet ribbon.His hand remained at her side, close enough to feel, not close enough to claim.
Bea had the unsettling sense that he was no longer sparring for advantage but testing how much distance she would allow him to close.
He had relented, even admitted to being incorrect.That was something.But was this only more calculation on his part?More political maneuvering?
Before she could choose her next words, he continued more gently, “Which brings me to a second point.Perhaps we should continue to further our acquaintance with what we have in common.”
“Ha.”She arched a brow.“Dowe have anything in common?”
“Well.”He waited a beat, clearly savoring her silence before continuing.“We are both devoted to our beliefs.We both admire honesty.And we both have a healthy aversion to Lord Hargrave.”
“Most of Society does,” Bea replied, flicking an imaginary speck from her glove.
“Then we are practically unified,” he said solemnly.“A foundation upon which countless agreements may be built.”
“Doubtful,” she muttered.
“Hm.Very well.Another approach then.”He cleared his throat with exaggerated importance.“A most serious question.”
Bea rolled her eyes.“Must you?”
“Yes.It is essential.”He paused, straightened his back, and grabbed his lapel with his free hand.“Do you find me appealing?Physically, I mean.”
She tripped.Actually tripped—only a fraction, but it was enough.His arm tightened, steadying her.
