Page 38 of A Match Made On Duchess Square

He nodded. “I like your practical nature. You are organized and efficient.”

“Because I find it easiest to note down whatever I must do each day. Is it not sensible? It serves to unclutter one’s brain and gives one less to think about. Nothing gets forgotten when it is staring back at you on paper. Then all one has to remember is to not lose the paper.”

He grinned. “I rarely bother to write things down but am constantly making lists in my head. You and I both like our lives fairly well structured and predictable.”

“That sounds painfully dull. I am not predictable at all,” she protested, and then drank more of her port. “In fact, I can be quite brazen at times.”

“Oh, Gwen. No. If you were brazen, you would be sitting on my lap right now and offering yourself to me, as several of your supposedly virginal prospects have already done.”

“But I kissed you. Was this not impossibly forward of me?”

“Gad, no,” he said with a rumbling chuckle. “You kissed me completely by accident, and you now blush and avert your eyes every time you think about it, which is fairly often.”

She gasped. “Do not be ridiculous. I do not think of it at all. In fact, our kiss has completely slipped from my memory.”

She needed more wine. Why was her glass already half empty? She finished it off.

“Anyway, we ought to be talking about you, not me,” she insisted. “I do not wish to sound haughty, but I think you are ensorcelled by me.”

He cast her a wickedly attractive grin. “Am I?”

She hiccuped. “Yes. Well, certainly too comfortable with me, and coupled with your propensity for resisting change, you have now fixed your attention too much on me and not enough on the prospective brides I have chosen for you.”

“All right, tell me about each of these four female paragons you have selected for our house party.”

“Our party? See, you are doing this again. Milbury Hill is your home and you are hosting this party.”

“And you have agreed to act as my hostess and plan every detail of this party with me. That makes it ours.”

She sighed. “You may have a point.”

He finished his first glass of port and cast her an amused look. “Tell me about those paragons, Gwen.”

“You are well acquainted with two of them. There’s Miss Pouty Mouth…I mean, Lady Eudora Blake. She’s a bluestocking, so this means she is naturally intelligent and serious. She also happens to be very pretty. Lovely blonde hair and green eyes.”

He shrugged. “She’s humorless.”

Ugh! Did he have to be so opinionated?

“Well, James…this house party is your chance to draw her out. I’m sure she is witty and will have you laughing until your sides split.”

He cast her another impossibly attractive smile, no doubt pleased she had used his given name and completely ignoring everything else she had just said. “Blithe and merry as a butterfly, is she? No, Gwen. I doubt she has even a thimbleful of your wit and charm.”

“Do not bring this around to me again. You cannot compare these ladies to me or you will always find them lacking.”

He leaned forward. “Which proves my point. You stand above all of them.”

“No. No. And again, no.”

“Yes, yes, and yes, Gwen. I know you have no interest in me, and I am not going to woo you.”

“You’re not?”

She hiccupped again.

Drat, did she sound dismayed? And had he noticed?

His smile turned seductive. “Unless you want me to.”