“They will have to be presented at court,” she said.
“I have already put in a request,” Richardson told her. “Given the length of time it can take for an invitation to arrive, I thought it prudent to start right away.”
“Very good,” Gabriella agreed. Rising, she forced herself to meet Huntley’s gaze directly. “You may tell your sisters to expect me tomorrow morning at ten. And speak to your servants too. Their discretion is vital to our success since one whispered word about my coming here will put an abrupt end to your sisters’ lessons.”
“I understand.”
“Good,” she told him, relying on the rigidity of her spine to distract her from the charming dimples that appeared at the edge of his mouth whenever he smiled. “Then I’ll thank you for the tea and bid you a good day.” She moved toward the door.
“Just one more thing,” he said, his voice a touch lower than before—more intimate somehow.
The effect made her nerves shiver. She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Yes?”
“Do ye like dancing, Lady Gabriella?”
Chapter 7
Raphe could tell by her sharp intake of breath, the hesitant look in her eyes and the flush creeping into her cheeks that Lady Gabriella found the question unnerving. He’d suspected she would, which had only tempted him even more since the way she responded confirmed the suspicion he’d started having from the moment she’d entered his study a half hour earlier. Against her better judgment, no doubt, Lady Gabriella was attracted to him. And that thought alone—that a man like him might stir an unwelcome desire in a woman like her—filled him with an undeniably primal sense of victory.
The edge of his mouth quirked with amusement. He watched as she followed the movement with her eyes, her chest quivering slightly on a tremulous inhalation. He felt his body grow taught. No, he warned the devil within. She was destined to marry Fielding. Pompous arse. And yet . . . he couldn’t help but imagine . . . after all, she was here in his home against all common sense . . .
“Dance?”
Her question halted his increasingly scandalous thoughts. Which was just as well. “Yes. Richardson has arranged for me sisters an’ I to take lessons. I’ll be needin’ a partner.”
“Then I would suggest you ask your sisters.”
“They won’t know the steps.”
“Well.” She stood completely still for a moment as if she might actually be considering his proposal. But then she said, “It wouldn’t be proper. I am to marry the Earl of Fielding, a man who insisted I stay away from you, and that I give you no warning about the dinner his mother is hosting, because he believes Society ought to know the truth about you.”
“And yet it seems as though you thwarted those wishes,” Raphe said.
A sigh of exasperation drifted past her lips. “In regards to your sisters, Your Grace. But where you are concerned, I do believe we ought to keep all contact to a minimum.”
“Why? Are ye afraid I might tempt ye away from Fielding?” She was looking so delightfully flustered that he couldn’t help but tease her.
Tilting her chin, she pointed her pretty nose at him. “My family needs that match.”
“What about you, Lady Gabriella?” Raphe quietly asked. “Is it what you need? What you want?” He knew his questions were daring—could practically feel Richardson’s disapproval crashing over him. But he wasn’t expected to behave like a gentleman, and decided therefore to take advantage. Besides, in his estimation, the Earl of Fielding was a fool. He didn’t deserve to be seen with the lovely woman who presently stood across from him.
Her eyes widened with indignation. “My wants and needs are none of your concern,” she told him hotly.
Ah, but they could be.
“Very well,” he acquiesced. “No dancin’ then.” Stepping around the desk, he crossed to the door, his shoulder lightly brushing hers as he did so. The effect was immediate; heat rushed through his torso and limbs, accelerating his heart and tightening his stomach until he felt his chest contract and his breath hitch.
With a deliberate cough, he concealed the unbidden reaction, reached for the door handle and turned to face her, his hands going instantly clammy the moment he did so. For there she stood, bewilderment shimmering in the depths of her pale blue eyes—eyes he sensed might swallow him up if he stared at them too long. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips slightly parted as if on a gasp, and he knew then that the spark he’d just felt had been felt by her too.
“Thank ye-ou for comin’ and for offerin’ to help,” he said as he opened the door, suddenly desperate for her to leave so he could get his body under control. He had no business panting after her like a dog. No business at all. “Richardson will show you out.”
With a nod, she stepped toward the door. “Thank you for the tea.”
“Ye’re welcome,” he said.
And then she was gone, allowing Raphe to finally sink back into his chair and wonder about what the hell had just happened. He really didn’t have time for emotional nonsense, or physical attraction, or anything else that might have him chasing after a woman who was not only destined to marry another, but who most assuredly would never agree to marry him. Not that he would consider marriage. Which he wouldn’t. Not under any circumstance. It was utterly and irrevocably out of the question. Which meant that he must learn to restrain himself when in Lady Gabriella’s presence.
“Your Grace?”
