He half turned toward her, unable to resist taking her in once more, despite the manifest unpleasantness of their conversation.
The auburn hair against the pale skin, the goddess’s physique, the slice of bosom that made him want to weep tears of lust—and the cold sneer of disgust upon her face.
Sothiswas the London woman.
Well, at least he knew two things.
The first was cold comfort.He had been right to be wary of society people, of entry into this world.He had found himself scoffed and jeered at within five minutes.He had been right to refuse every invitation to London that Beatrice had offered, to pay no heed every time she had insisted he expand his horizons, come visit her, or consider taking a wife.
And the second thing was no comfort at all.
Miss Scarlett Perkins already despised him—andshe was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
It was about to be averylong dinner, indeed.
Chapter Five
Miss Scarlett Perkinshad never been so affronted in her life.
As the older, plain, on-the-shelf sister of the pretty, witty, and rich Miss Tilly Perkins, Scarlett had been overlooked many times.
She had had men spill punch on her whilsten routeto Tilly, so intent were they on giving a refreshment to her sister.
Men had asked her to dance just to learn more about Tilly’s likes and dislikes.
They had even sent her flowers and small gifts in the hope that she would put in a good word for them with Tilly.
But she had never before experienced anything like Mr.Malcolm Brown.
First, there had been thatmeeting.Men in London always made it clear that Tilly was their first object.But at least the men who were tasked with bringing her into dinner understood that they needed to pretend to find her tolerable.
Clearly, however, Mr.Malcolm Brown had been so taken with Tilly’s beauty that he had beentoohopeful.This man, arrogant becausehewas so good-looking, had assumed that the young, beautiful woman would behisto lead into dinner.And that the older, plain, plump woman would be left to someone else.He probably couldn’t believe that Mrs.Salisbury and his sister had directedhimto lead in such an unremarkable as Scarlett.
Well, she wasn’t about to let Parkhorne Hallinsulther any longer without retaliation.
She could forgive the exile to a hunting lodge.
But she could not forgive the contemptuous snub from the devastatingly handsome Parkhorne brother that she hadn’t even known existed until earlier this evening.
So she had needled him.
Or hadtriedto, anyway.
It had been difficult.Especially when her hand on his arm had her feeling all sorts of unwelcome sensations.
His body, large and powerful, much more so than the average society gentleman in London, had her wanting to lean closer.
Nonsense, of course.
Plain spinster sisters such as herself never found themselves in the arms of men like Mr.Malcolm Brown.
And this man was clearly not tempted byher.
And that was before she had done her level best to imply that he was a raw countryman and that time spent on this estate was a personal hardship for her.
Now, they sat next to each other at the table in cold silence.
To her left was Mr.Severn Westmore and—to his right—Tilly.She wouldn’t have minded conversing with Mr.Westmore, but he was deep in conversation with her sister, apparently bent on doing his duty by his brother by not letting his favorite be neglected.
