Page 16
“Miss Twistleton. I trust you are recovering from your mishap yesterday?” Mathias asked, careful to keep his tone polite, but impartial lest she erect her defenses.
“Mama would have me rest in bed for several days.” Nicolette elevated a wry eyebrow as she cut her mother busily attending the tea tray a side-eyed glance. “But, in truth, other than a few bruises, I’m fine. My ankle scarcely hurts at all. It’s not even swollen. See.”
As if to emphasize her point, she pulled her gown up a fraction and wiggled said ankle, which today was covered in another pair of colorfully embroidered stockings. Delicate pink and purple flowers clung to a green vine that climbed from a trim ankle to disappear under her gown’s ruffled hem.
Why, for all of her outward appearance of banal propriety, Miss Nicolette Twistleton had a secretive, bold streak. Were any of her other small-clothes similarly embellished?
The intimate thought caused an instant pulse to his groin.
Despite his earlier intentions, Mathias grinned wickedly and gave her a bold wink, very much appreciating the well-turned ankle. “You look very well, indeed.”
“Men.” Rolling her eyes, she snorted and shoved her gown back down and muttered, ‘It’s just an ankle, for pity’s sake.”
Aye, connected to a very graceful calf, connected to a supple thigh, connected to—
“Your Grace?” Mrs. Twistleton indicated a nearby rattan chair.
What?
He blinked blankly, a very erotic image of her daughter lodged in his imagination and obscuring all else.
What had she said?
Oh, yes. Tea.
Mathias shook off his sensual musings, determinedly ignoring the distinct throb in his nether regions. Hell, he’d better get a grip on his lust or he’d be sporting a cockstand. Somewhat tricky to explain that away during tea. To his knowledge, neither tea nor biscuits roused a man’s lust to the point of chagrin.
He sank into the indicated chair with relief. At least when he sat, his partial erection wasn’t as noticeable.
His hostess had already claimed his chair’s mate and held a delicate, scalloped edged teacup in her hand. “Milk or sugar?”
“Neither, thank you.” After examining the assortment of dainties, he helped himself to a ginger biscuit, using the opportunity to rearrange his coat slightly.
Better.
“Ah, just so for Nicolette, as well,” she all but crooned.
Taking a bite, he considered Mrs. Twistleton.
Hmm, perhaps he’d misread her after all, for her gaze now bore a distinctly shrewd glint as she looked between him and her daughter. Until this moment, he hadn’t taken Mary Twistleton to be a matchmaker.
“Did you truly call merely to check on my progress?” Nicolette eyed him suspiciously, those marvelous blue eyes of her slightly tense at the corners. “I confess, that seems highly out of character for you.”
Her unwarranted barb stung until Mathias reminded himself, she used her sharp tongue as a weapon to protect herself.
Or to scrape barnacles off ships, bark from trees, paint from wood.
It seemed in his case, she’d decided to go on the offense and rebuff him.
Which begged the question, why did she feel the need?
Because of the attraction, she’d valiantly tried to hide yesterday?
He hid his delighted grin behind his cup of fragrant oolong tea. Quite possibly, the tea he’d imported.
Nicolette would be highly vexed if she knew he was onto her ploy.
Mathias had shaken her carefully constructed walls in Hyde Park. That momentary weakness had allowed him a glimpse of the woman she kept judiciously concealed behind a barricade of cynicism. The woman who’d captivated his interest quite some time ago.
