Griffin found it equally arousing, his focus momentarily wavering on account of the heat charging through his veins. It was not dissimilar to what he’d felt when he’d found her watching him during his swim. He knew he’d pushed her comfort to the limit when he’d challenged her curiosity, but he hadn’t been able to resist the opportunity. Something about her made him want to be reckless.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, forcing his mind back to her question.
She glared at him, which only made his muscles draw tight with anticipation. “My mother is first and foremost a meddler, and you were encouraging her at every opportunity.”
“By being nice to her?”
Emily pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “No. By supporting her arguments and speaking too highly of me.”
It took some effort not to laugh, but Griffin managed and affected a serious expression instead. “I hope you can forgive the compliment.”
A hint of humor tugged at her lips, but rather than surrender to it, she fought it and won. “You do not know her as well as I do. She will consider your praise to be a sign of interest. In me. And once she does so, she will be more determined than ever to see us wed.”
“I see,” Griffin murmured, pretending that this was indeed the most dire outcome he could possibly imagine. But the truth was slightly different. For some odd reason, he was no longer repelled by the idea of having to make Miss Howard his bride. Not even under duress.
In fact, the biggest problem was not so much having to marry her, were it to come to that, but the responsibilities he’d left behind in Austria. Prolonging his stay in England indefinitely wasn’t an option, which meant he would soon have to stick with his plan and depart.
He eyed the stern set of Miss Howard’s jaw, the displeased line of her mouth, and the sharp irritation that pushed back the brown in her eyes and turned them a bright shade of green. “Have you ever considered travelling?” he asked, the question springing from his throat and catching him slightly by surprise.
She shook her head. “No. Not really.”
“Would you like to?” he pressed.
“I’m not sure,” she said with a frown. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.”
She snorted. “I do not believe that you’re being honest with me.”
His stomach muscles tightened and his heart beat slightly faster. Not with excitement but with a different kind of sensation – one he had not experienced in years. Griffin swallowed, a little distressed by the realization that he was nervous: nervous that she would discover his true line of thinking and nervous that she’d be appalled by the idea of actually becoming his wife.
“You’re trying to distract me by changing the conversation to something else,” she said before he could offer an honest explanation.
The breath he’d been holding rushed from his lungs, removing the strain on his nerves. He forced a mischievous smile. “I’m sorry, but I’m not very fond of being told off.”
“I wasn’t…” She sighed in response to his raised eyebrow. “Very well. Can we simply agree that you should stop providing my mother with reasons to not only like you but to imagine she has a chance of forcing a match?”
“Certainly.” He would not reveal that he planned to secretly court her anyway. Not when she was so clearly opposed. He’d been too, until recently. But then he’d realized a few intriguing things, like the fact that she drove him mad with desire, that he loved simply talking to her, and that he was reluctant to leave her company.
And then there was the surge of jealousy he’d felt when he’d seen Mr. Partridge showing an interest in her. Just the idea of Miss Howard so much as touching another man made him want to hit something. Because if there was one truth that rang loud and clear above everything else, it was that he wanted her for himself.
Forever.
9
The outingto town was not as terrible as Emily expected it to be. Her mother did not insist on orange or yellow fabric during their visit to the modiste. Not even lime green was suggested. But when Emily gave her attention to a purple silk that slid sensually over her fingers as she touched it, her mother said she believed it a shade too dark for her skin.
Instead, she brought Emily’s attention to a crimson silk that begged to be turned into an elegant gown. “I cannot possibly,” Emily murmured even as she ran her fingers over the supple surface. “The color is far too bold.”
“No more so than the purple one you were just considering.”
True. “This one just seems more scandalous somehow.”
Her mother made a face that informed Emily she was being ridiculous. “For a debutante perhaps, but you are an older woman, if you’ll forgive me for saying so. Your age cannot be debated.” She held the fabric up next to Emily’s face while they stood before a long mirror. “It’s perfect. Truly. The sort of color that is sure to get you noticed.”
Emily considered the fabric. Ordering an evening gown made from it was incredibly tempting. And yet, Emily knew that her mother’s motive in suggesting the fabric was solely to secure Lord Griffin’s attention. And this gave her pause. “It is just a dinner party, Mama. There is no need for me to stand out.”
“Of course not.” Her mother pulled the fabric away and returned it to the shelf where she’d found it. She then picked up a cream-colored silk and handed it to Emily. “Perhaps this would be better?”
