Page 81 of The Gentlewoman Companion

“In part, I think I did.”

She was so achingly soft, so vulnerable. Could he ask why, press her to tell him more?

“Why are you uncomfortable with praise?” he asked.

She laughed with honest mirth. “I’m not. Tell me all day long that I am beautiful,” she tossed her head, mocking herself, “that my gown is just the color to highlight my eyes, and that my hair shines. But say I am clever or good, and I panic.”

“You are beautiful.” As he spoke, he stood and then moved to sit beside her. “Your gown does emphasize your blue eyes, and your hair is shiny.” A blush rose to her cheeks. Could he, should he continue? “Your smile is a flash of light in a dark room. Your laughter is music I never tire of.” I want to know the softness of your lips, the sweetness of your embrace. He fell into silence, unable to say all he wished.

“I wasn’t begging for a compliment.”

“I wasn’t giving one. I am merely stating facts, none of which account for my admiration of you. While it is true that my eyes adore the spark in your eyes and your mischievous smile, my heart and my mind have an affection for your courage, your intellect, your kindness. Were you merely fair, I would have noticed, but it’s your character that makes it impossible for me to look away.”

Her fingers twisted into the fabric covering her knee. “Almost, I believe it when you say it.”

“Believe it, for it is true.”

Rather than running from the room or berating him as he’d half expected she would, Louisa became very still. He had confessed more than he’d intended, but it was not enough. With each word uttered, the stronger his attraction pulled.

“Thank you,” she said, lifting her face to meet his gaze. That tenacious, impish gleam he recognized as preceding a rash decision danced in her eyes.

“You are good,” she said. “You are thoughtful. You are generous. I feel safe with you, and I cannot say that about many men I have known. I think I know the outline of your profile, your handsome face, your strong jaw, better than my own features. Why?” She shook her head. “How is it you are as comfortable and familiar to me—nay, more—than my own self?”

His heart thudded with a fervor that increased with each of her words. Perhaps she was more disposed to his affection than he had dared believe. Perhaps she returned his regard. But would her feelings allow her to confess whatever secret she kept locked away in her heart?