Better annoyed than the fearful panic he’d witnessed a few moments ago.
“I would say that your refusal to do as I requested should be cause enough.”
Phin nodded, as though carefully considering her argument, then gave a careless shrug. “Another excellent point. And I swear it is not my intention to force my company upon you.”
Her elegantly arched eyebrows raised dramatically at that, since it very obviouslywashis intention.
He chuckled in acknowledgment before continuing, “However, I would not be able to see myself as anything but ungallant if I were to leave you here alone amongst this”—he glanced around them—“dense foliage.”
“Even if I assure you that is exactly what I want?” she pressed, her expression growing more irritated.
He nodded and formed an earnest expression as he glanced out to the ballroom. “In my experience, anyone who dares such hazardous terrain on their own rarely makes it out alive. I’ve explored the deepest jungles and climbed the most perilous mountains, but there’s nothing quite like the danger to be found in London high society.”
A truer statement had never been uttered.
When he glanced back to the lady, he saw how her focus had swept toward the ballroom, as well. Uneasiness once again shadowed her stare.
“Maintaining trustworthy company is the only way to make it through,” he added.
The words brought her attention swiftly back to him. Her expression became subtly challenging as she titled her head. The expression suited her immensely.
“Are you saying I should believeyouare trustworthy?”
Grinning, he replied in all honestly, “In most things, absolutely. In a few…not so much. But in this, I assure you, I am steadfast.”
Her brows arched again, doubt clear in her eyes. “Hm,” she said with her lips pressed together. “I don’t think I shall take that risk, mylord. I’ll say this one more time and I expect you to honor my words.” Her stare was direct and decided when she looked into his eyes then. “You may go, Lord Waring.”
He didn’t want to.
And he wasn’t entirely sure why. The lady had clearly regained herself. The panic had subsided, the wild flutter of her pulse had calmed, and the trembling in her hands had quieted. But still, he wished to remain in that corner of ferns with her.
Likely seeing his reluctance, the lady huffed in exasperation, “What must I say to get you to walk away?”
Enjoying the bite of ire in her voice, Phineas leaned toward her. A flicker moved through her gaze as she drew a sharp breath.
And for a sudden, bright moment, he had an almost uncontrollable urge to kiss her. Right there in the corner of the ballroom, in front anyone who cared to glance their way. With her staring up at him in annoyance and crisp night air cooling their faces.
But…despite what most people believed, he was not an impulsive sort. When he took a risk, it was with full, thought-out intention.
Ignoring the sudden press of desire, Phineas forced a light and casual smile. “You need say nothing more, my lady. Again, I apologize for any unintentional offense. Enjoy your evening.”
He bowed then walked away. Perhaps just in time, as he spotted the lady’s brother, Lord Redington, forcefully making his way through the crowd to his sister’s side. The man did not look pleased. Phin got the impression he rarely did.
But at least the lady wouldn’t be alone.
Chapter Four
Eleanor strode swiftlyalong Bond Street, her ever-present groom three paces behind her. After days of heavy rain plaguing London, it was the first chance she had to run an important errand and she wasn’t going to miss it.
The pale-gray sky she’d awoken to was already darkening ominously. Tucking her chin, she lengthened her stride and quickened her pace. It was vital that the items she wished to purchase remained dry. She’d have to hurry if she expected to be home before the clouds released more downpour.
Making sure the short shopping list was still tucked securely in her glove, she turned a corner and started down a narrow alley that twisted and turned a bit before opening to a short lane. Seeing her destination up ahead, she spoke over her shoulder to the groom. “You may wait outside, Lucas. I’ll only be a moment.”
“Yes, m’lady,” the groom replied with a nod as he stepped back to take position against the bricked wall of the shopfront. “I’ll be right here.”
Eleanor offered a quick smile before ducking into Mishra’s Emporium, a light, tinkling bell announcing her presence.
The shop was small, but Mr. Mishra somehow managed to fill the space with an astounding array of goods, most of them imported from India. Bolts and stacks of vibrantly colored silks were displayed near the front windows to draw the eyes of people passing by. Shelves linedone wall with textiles of all sorts and a small cupboard a few steps beyond that held soaps and creams and oils for the body. There was a table in the center filled with ornate glass and gilt perfume bottles alongside small, elaborately carved wooden boxes for other personal effects. Another set of shelves held leather bound books—both old and new. There was a cupboard lined with jars of spices and herbs and another with resins and incense expertly mixed by Mr. Mishra himself.
