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“They were letters of business.”

Ah, so her father was a tradesman. “What sort of business?”

She appeared to search for an answer, then shrugged. “That was not part of our bargain, sir. I have answered your question, now you must leave me be. Good day.”

She made her way forward again, but he reached out, catching her gloved hand in his. White air slipped from her lips, lingering around her as she scowled.

He flashed a half-grin, leaning into his charm. “Will you truly not give me your name?”

“I will not. It wouldn’t be proper.”

Since when was a tradesman’s daughter concerned about propriety? “I suppose it wouldn’t,” he agreed. “Just as it wouldn’t be proper for the two of us to be out here...alone.” He deepened his gaze, allowing it to drop briefly to her red lips.

“You are correct, sir. It is not proper for us to be out here alone. Which is precisely why I am trying to leave.”

He released his hold of her hand and held up his fingers in a form of retreat. “You are absolutely correct. My apologies once again. I was simply enjoying our conversation so greatly, I did not wish for it to end.”

She didn’t respond. But she also did not make to leave again.

“Must it end?” he asked.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Before it has even begun?”

“Yes,” she stated firmly.

He swept his eyes across her features in the way he knew most women enjoyed—an action that made them feel admired. Even treasured. “Are you from Applebury?”

“I am not.”

He paused. Where on earth was she from, then? “Nor am I,” he offered freely. “My family home is in the Lake District, but I am visiting to attend Lady Dalmeer’s yuletide house party at Bellthorne Hall.”

The woman remained still, the only tell that she’d heard him being that of a single twitch in the side of her neck.

What did that reaction mean? He drew a step toward her. “Might I venture a guess that you will be attending the party, as well?”

A smile slipped across her lips, causing her cheekbones to appear even higher. “You may, but you’d be mistaken.”

Finally, he was moving forward. With her not attending the house party, that meant their kiss—and all repercussions—could remain out here.

“I must know, then,” Oliver continued, “why are you out here alone? I mean, aside from washing your fingers. Were you waiting for someone? Visiting a friend nearby, perhaps?”

She pulled on a look of defiance, raising her chin with cold blue, hardened eyes. “If I answer that question and tell you I was neither waiting for someone nor visiting someone, will that affect how you treat me now, while you are here alone with me?”

“What can you mean by that?” he questioned as innocently as possible.

“You know very well what I mean, sir.”

She was formidable, he’d give her that. She didn’t appear even the slightest bit uneasy with the fact that she was alone with him. Not that he wanted her to feel uneasy. It was simply something he did not often experience.

But in his experience, even the strongest women could be led down a path of pleasure.

He flashed another smile, once more flicking his gaze to her lips. “Well,” he began, his voice soft, “you being alone out here doesn’t change how I will behave. That is entirely dependent upon your own desires.”

Would she take the bait? How he hoped she would. Those lips appeared more appetizing than fresh, summertime strawberries.

And yet, the woman raised her chin with a steely expression. “So you are one of those gentlemen. I might’ve known.”