Snorting, I shook my head at him. “You mean using the pragmatic influence of words, as you have just done, to convince or persuade someone of an argument?”
“Full marks!” He grinned, eyes shining. “See, you’re passing already and you’re not even trying.”
He reached for a scroll I hadn’t noticed that was beside him on the seat, and I stared at him curiously as he unrolled it. Therewere several sheets of paper with diagrams, drawings, and numerical markings, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of them upside down, until he pulled and flipped the bottom sheet around. Was that an illustration of atelescope?
He noticed my stare with a smile. “You asked about being assessed on building your own. Mr. Peacock approved it.”
I gulped. “He did?”
“Yes. While we are in London, you are going to do just that,” Tarik pronounced in a tone that brooked no argument when he saw my face. “I have a list of requirements for a basic Newtonian reflecting telescope, materials needed, and step-by-step instructions.” He handed them to me across the narrow space. “Study these for now, and let me know if you have any questions.” He pulled out a notebook and a pencil.
“What will you be doing for the journey, then?” I asked.
“Refining my business plan for my club, from possible available properties for let in London, approximate square footage, architectural designs and a few idea sketches, financial estimates, navigating any legal hurdles, things like that,” he said, pointing to a thick packet with a sheaf of documents. “Preparation is important in any venture.”
“Oh,” I said, somewhat mollified that I wouldn’t be the only one suffering for hours. “Do you have a name yet? Or will you name it after yourself like all the other gentlemen with clubs?”
He exhaled, turning to a page in his notebook that had a neatly penciled list. “I was thinking of The Collective,” he said. “I wanted something that would provide an idea of what I hopedto accomplish. An assembly of like-minded people—erudite, cultured, refined.”
“The Collective,” I echoed. “It’s simple, yet powerful.”
He circled the name in his book. “Thank you. Now stop stalling. I plan to quiz you on everything in those documents.”
“You wouldn’t!” I frowned at him, but he only lifted his eyebrows.
The next hour or two passed in silence as I perused the scrolls, jotting down notes of my own while attempting to memorize all the different parts of the instrument—eyepiece lens, primary and secondary mirrors, a papier-mâché tube, and a wooden mount. It was a daunting prospect, but the more I read, the more excited I became. Before it had only been a general idea, but now with everything explained so clearly in front of me, the vision was becoming a reality.
After a while, I glanced up and nearly swallowed my tongue. I’d been so engrossed in my work that I hadn’t noticed Tarik had removed his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves to his elbows while he worked. My breath caught in my throat as my eyes devoured the expanse of rich brown skin, from the elegant fingers I’d already obsessed over to the fascinating topography of his muscular forearms. I’d seen the twins fully shirtless on the River Cam, and not even that could make my mouth drier than it became at the sight of Tarik St. Clair’s bare arms.
Good God, is it boiling in here?Beads of sweat broke out on the back of my neck, and I squirmed uncomfortably, causing the sheaf on my lap to scatter to the floor.
“Are you well?” Tarik asked, leaning down to collect and hand them back to me.
“You took off your coat,” I croaked like an imbecile, gaze darting anywhere but his forearms as I took the papers.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t think you would mind. It’s hot in here.” A line appeared in his forehead at my reaction, which was either frantic or unreasonably hysterical. He pointed to his coat. “I can put it back on, if you like. Is that a thing? An aristocratic thing I should be aware of? No coat removal in hot coaches?”
“No, no,” I assured him, trying desperately to not ogle him like a predator eyeing its next meal every time he moved his dratted arms. “Only in mixed company, of course. Wouldn’t want to injure a young lady’s delicate sensibilities. It’s a wonderful idea. I shall do the same.”
My words emerged in a nearly unintelligible jumble as I shucked out of my coat as well, trying to ignore the fact that Anna would have conniptions if she had an inkling of what was happening. Under these layers of satin and wool, I was still me, and not only was I in close quarters with an unmarried gentleman, but I wasundressing.
Not that he knew, of course, but the reality still applied. I was an unwed girl. And clothing was being removed. It was scandalous in the extreme, and yet, I could not bring myself to care. In fact, I would be eternally happy if he removed more layers so I could ogle my wicked fill, but just in case, I reached up to crack open the small window on the upper wall opposite the coach door. That should cool things down a bit…including the minor immolation occurring in my own body.
Tarik cleared his throat. “Speaking of young ladies…your cousin is lovely.”
“My cousin?” I echoed.
“Lady Rosalin.” Those high cheekbones reddened. “She came in your stead to the tailors’ to help me with the small mountain of clothing required for the season. We went for a walk in Hyde Park afterward.”
“And?” I asked, deeply curious but also not wanting to appear too interested. “She didn’t say anything horrid about me, did she?”
“Only that you were an insufferable jackanapes.” He laughed when I snorted. “I’m jesting. Your family is clearly close, you two especially, it seems.”
Closer than you think…
If he discovered the truth, I would be lucky if Tarik ever spoke to me again, but that was a problem for later.
“We are inseparable,” I said, tongue in cheek. “So, what did you think of Rosalin?”
