Papa, meanwhile, was being introduced to Kenneth by the Earl, and was soon inclining his head politely. “Always a pleasure to meet a fellow antiquarian!”
“Och, I cannae claim such a title,” Kenneth demurred, sending a knowing smile to her across the room. “Yer charming daughter was the one who introduced me to the study, but I find myselffascinated.”
“You ought to seehercollection.” Papa beamed, always proud of her work. “It puts the Earl’s to shame.”
“Alas,” Cousin Errol sighed. “You are likely correct.”
Kenneth had turned to her, brows raised, and Barbara found herself feeling uncertain. She wasn’t shy about her collection, but suddenly had the urge to duck her chin and brush off the compliments.
Why? To make herself smaller in Sir Kenneth’s eyes?
Bother with that.
She lifted her chin in challenge, and began, “In fact?—”
Mother, on the other hand, tittered unhelpfully. “You know how it is, Sir Kenneth,ahahaha. A lady needs someplace to spend her pin money!”
As if Barbara’s inheritance from her grandfather wasn’t enough to buy the Earl of Standish’s collection outright. She began to bristle—but when she looked up, Kenneth’s expression had turned from surprise to a soft sort of approval. Andthatmade her warm all over again.
Most inconveniently.
“I would verra much like to see that,” he murmured, then cleared his throat. “Do ye give tours, Miss Fokette?”
Before she could answer—howwas she supposed to respond to that?—her father clapped Kenneth on the shoulder. “I’m sure she’d be delighted to share. Stop by tomorrow, eh?”
Barbara had forgotten how to breathe again.
Papa had just…invited an eligible man to their home.Herhome? To tourhercollection?
The reasonable, intelligent part of her was trying to calm her expectations.He is a rake. He’s already made a fornication jest. It is not as if he is courting you.
But the rest of her, the part still reacting to the arousal of his touch earlier, was trying not to squeal in excitement.
Especially when, still holding her gaze, the delicious-looking Scotsman murmured, “Tomorrow it is, then.”
Chapter Three
Kenneth stared down at the roses in his hands, then flicked his gaze up to the unassuming brick townhouse in front of him.
Roses?Redroses? In the language of flowers, they sent a powerful message.
One he wasn’t certain he could afford to send.
Over the years, he’dcourtedplenty of women…but for a very specific end goal. One that didn’t require romance. Red roses were perfectly acceptable in those cases—expected, even. So were oysters, asparagus, truffles, and figs. Jewelry and trinkets were yet another piece of ammunition in the battle for pleasure, a volley sent to soften the female’s resolve, along with kisses on the inside of her wrist and under her ear, and murmured phrases in Italian.
Those ten months he’d spent undercover in Italy certainly had come in handy.
Aye, Kenneth knew what he was doing in the game of seduction—ahem,courting. So not a single experience he’d had thus far could help him inthissituation.
Miss Barbara Fokette wasn’t a bored Society matron, or an excitable young widow, or a ruined daughter looking for a good time. She wasn’t who he was used tocourting.
She was an intelligent, witty young virgin who’d seen right through his practiced moves. She’d mocked them—but not him—and allowed him to continue. She hadn’t slapped his face and stormed off, hadn’t run screaming from his touch. She’d been bright enough to know exactly what he was doing and thenlet him continue doing it.
Did that mean she was interested in what he could offer her?
Or was Kenneth reading too eagerly into the situation?
Either way, his normal methods couldn’t work here. He was in new territory. And that put him at a disadvantage. Not something he was accustomed to.
