Page 27 of A Match Made On Duchess Square

“I frown from time to time,” she countered. “Everyone frowns. Even you do, Milbury. See, you are frowning at me right now.”

“Never at you, Gwen. And the name is James.” He leaned forward once more, making her body tingle because his polished veneer was slipping again, and she sensed the power flowing from him as he regarded her with a hawk’s keen gaze. “She frowns when her face is at rest, which indicates her natural temperament is irritation. You, on the other hand, cannot hold your frown for more than ten seconds before your face reverts to a smiling pout.”

“That is nonsense. How can I be smiling and pouting at the same time?”

“It is in the shape of your lips.”

“You noticed my lips?”

“I do look at your face,” he said. “There is a small dip at each corner of your mouth that gives you a… Ah, do not take this the wrong way, but you have a sensual pout that does not put men off at all. In fact, it is quite appealing. It is different from a frown. And anyway, most of the time you are smiling, which is also an attractive quality to a man.”

Good grief, she was tingling again.

“And what about the last lady? Number seven. My final hope.”

He chuckled. “Her nose was too pointy.”

Gwendolyn shook her head. “You are dismissing her because she has a pointy nose?”

“She’ll poke my eye out whenever I try to kiss her. Must it be a Euclidean calculation every time I try to cover her mouth with mine?”

She gaped at him for a full minute, certain he had to be in jest.

But it appeared he wasn’t.

“That is the most unbelievably ridiculous excuse I have ever heard in all my years of making successful matches. You are just coming up with any outrageous reason that pops into your head in order to strike these perfectly suitable ladies off the list.”

“I am being completely sensible.”

“How?” She shook her head in dismay. “Millions of people with pointy noses manage to kiss each other without problem every day. I have never read of a man’s eye being gouged out by kissing a young lady. Never. Not once in the annals of history. And if Miss Pointy Nose wore spectacles, would you complain about those, too?”

“No, it isn’t at all the same. It is the rapier-sharp nose that is the issue, not the spectacles. Although those might be a problem if we both wore spectacles.”

“More Euclidean calculations?”

“Possibly,” he said with the hint of grin.

“I have a pointy nose.” Gwendolyn touched the tip of it for emphasis. “See? Does this make me undesirable?”

“You have an adorable nose.” He gave it a light tweak. “Any man would be happy to kiss you. If I leaned in like this… See? Your nose would not get in the way.”

Their mouths were so close together, she could feel his warm breath against her lips.

“Nor would it be a problem if I tipped my head the other way,” he said in a husky rumble that shot tingles through her.

She angled her head slightly to test his theory. Then she closed her eyes…to more clearly calculate the probability of her nose hitting his eye, of course.

Her lips accidentally grazed his.

She did not know exactly how it happened—perhaps she had inched forward and he must have done the same. Or maybe it was just her, because she was impossibly curious.

All she knew was that their lips were suddenly locked together and the butterflies in her stomach were in a wild, raging frenzy.

Milbury placed a hand lightly to the back of her head to hold her steady as their mouths combined. Fused. Pressed together as though they were desperate for each other.

No, it wasn’t meant to be that sort of lungs-bursting, hearts-aflame kiss.

He was merely proving a point. Nothing more. And why should she not allow him to prove it?