A flake of gold sat next to the pupil of one of his eyes. Something made her want to hoard this discovery as if it were actual gold.
“You want very badly to tell me to go to the devil right now, don’t you, Lady Lillias?” He was all hushed sympathy. “There’s no epithet jar or witnesses. Go right ahead, if it will make you feel better. I shall withstand it manfully.”
“I’m not as prone to histrionics as all of that, Mr. Cassidy. Or as easy to shock.”
“I’ll certainly have to try harder, then, won’t I?” More seriously he added, “I am sorry if I frightened you. I didn’t mean to. Would you like me to leave so that you can be alone with your sketchbook?”
What she would like was for his eyes to stop being so interestingly blue so she wouldn’t be compelled to look at them. He was unfortunately no uglier by daylight than he was by lamplight or by the dim light of the under-construction Annex.
She knew how to handle the bloods of theton. After all, they’d been raised with the same manners and mores and institutions as she had, and they essentially adhered to the same rules. The lines of propriety were distinct and kept her safe.
She didn’t know what the rules were here.
All Americans are feral.
“You didn’t frighten me. And it seems I was intruding upon your private time, Mr. Cassidy. I should be the one to leave.”
“It’s no intrusion at all,” he said smoothly. “I am awaiting the arrival of a cart full of lumber and decided to take the opportunity to read a letter from my Uncle Liam, sent to me by my sister.” He lifted the letter. “As it so happens he’s sailing into Portsmouth on theTropicafrom India. I’ll be off to meet him there.”
She was so arrested by the warmth of the words, that for a moment, she couldn’t speak for wondering what it would be like to actually be at peace in Mr. Cassidy’s presence, as Uncle Liam presumably was.
“‘You won’t believe what I’m about to tell you,’ Uncle Liam always says,” Hugh continued, when she said nothing. “Which, coincidentally, is how I always begin when I tell the story of finding the daughter of an earl smoking a cheroot.”
She gave a soft snort. “You seem to believe I’d be appalled to hear that.”
He grinned fleetingly at that. “You’ll be relieved to learn that I only told your father,” he said, with mock conciliation.
“And that was well done of you, too, Mr. Cassidy. That’s one woman saved from perdition. Now to do something about the ones who want to sit on your lap in pubs.”
“Oh, I’m not certain those ladies want saving,” he said with wicked sincerity.
She stared at him.
“‘Ladies,’” she muttered to herself, ironically. She cast her eyes upward in a near roll.
That quick grin flashed again, and it was a thing of beauty. He seemed much more at ease this morning.
Perhapshe’dhad a decent night’s sleep. Perhaps last night’s encounter was as routine in his life as swinging an axe, or whatever it was Americans routinely did.
The notion made her feel a little peevish.
“What brings you to Helene Durand Park, Lady Lillias?”
She paused, wondering whether entering into a civilized dialogue with Mr. Cassidy was signaling détente and whether she ought to encourage it.
“I thought I might draw,” she said stiffly.
Although she half suspected she might never draw again.
He looked at her sketchbook. Then up at her.
After a moment, he arched a skeptical brow.
He was probably beginning to think she was a looby who merely carried about an empty sketchbook for effect, but so be it.
With an extraordinary effort, she turned her head away and pretended to scrutinize an apple blossom as though she intended to render it. As if anything could be more fascinating than what was sitting on the bench opposite her.
While she studied the blossom, he studied her. She could all but feel the rays of his attention illuminating her.
