Page 6

“How reassuring. I should hate to discover I was disappointing you,” she said coyly

“You could hardly disappoint me,” he told her. He would only be disappointed in himself if the evening didn't go as he'd hoped. “If there is any disappointment, it would not be directed at you.”

“So you find me...” She considered the words, tasting them. “Sensible...”

He leaned back, aware that he had begun to treat every reply as if it might contain a trap. His fingers drummed once against the chair arm, then stilled. The difficulty was that he did not wish to escape her. He wanted to understand her well enough to stop stumbling. He wanted it with an earnestness that made him feel, absurdly, like a boy. “I cannot answer for an evening we have not spent together,” he said. “I can tell you that I have enjoyed this one far more since you interrupted my conversation.”

Her fan stilled. There it was again, that brief change in her expression when he gave her something she couldn’t dismiss as practiced charm. Her lips parted slightly, and something vulnerable flickered through her eyes before she mastered it. He had begun to recognize it, though he did not yet know what it meant. He only knew he would have walked a long way to see it again.

“Even after I insulted you?” she asked.

“You corrected me,” he said, then grinned. “The insults were an embellishment.”

She laughed, and he wished he had been nearer to her when she did. The thought was becoming troublesome. He had met her less than an hour ago, and already a pair of sensibly placed chairs seemed an offense against his comfort.

“You are determined to be agreeable,” she said.

He lifted a brow. “Would you prefer an argument?”

“I should prefer to discover whether you have any opinions of your own.”

“A great many,” he said. “You disliked the first one.”

“Then you must offer me a better selection.”

Dominic rested his forearms on the arms of his chair and leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. “Very well. I believe you came here hoping to enjoy yourself, and have spent a considerable part of the evening ensuring that I do not misunderstand what you will permit.” Her expression altered at once. The warmth drained from it, and her eyes cooled. He ought to have stopped. A sensible man would have. Instead, because he wanted to be honest and, quite desperately, wanted her to enjoy herself, he added, “I wonder whether you might enjoy it more if you allowed yourself to forget me for a moment.”

Amelia closed her fan. The quiet snap of it was considerably more alarming than her earlier interruption. His stomach dropped. “Do you imagine that is what I have been doing?”

“I believe I have given you reason to be cautious.”

“That is true enough.” She laid the fan in her lap, smoothing one ribbon with her thumb, slow and deliberate, as though she were gathering herself. “But you mistake caution for reluctance.”

Dominic remained still, hardly daring to breathe. Beyond the alcove, skirts rustled, and the musicians began another set. He heard little of it. His attention narrowed to the woman across from him. “I beg your pardon?”

Her gaze returned to his, steady and far too lovely. “I did not agree to dance with you because I wished to spend the evening reprimanding you.”

“No?” What did she want?

“I wished to discover whether I liked you,” she said, honesty in her tone.

The admission hit him with unexpected force, warm and sudden, like sunlight breaking through clouds. He had assumed that much, perhaps, but hearing her say it made every exchange between them feel less like a game and more like something that might matter. “And have you decided?”

She shook her head. “Not entirely.”

He smiled despite himself, helpless to prevent it. “Then I may hope for another opportunity.”

“You may hope for a great deal.” Her lips twitched. “I have no authority over your feelings.”

“What might you agree to?” Dominic asked.

Amelia glanced toward the gallery. For a moment he thought she would use the movement to avoid his question. Instead, she turned back to him with a thoughtful expression that made him sit straighter, as though he were being called to account. “Tell me something you have never done.”

“Abandoned a lady in the middle of a dance,” he quipped.

“Something worth doing,” she said, though her mouth twitched again. His lady was fighting a smile.

He considered the question. He had traveled, gambled, ridden recklessly, and spent a great many evenings finding amusement wherever it offered itself. He was not proud of every choice. None had required him to explain himself to a woman who appeared prepared to dismiss any answer she found insufficient. The realization left him oddly exposed, and oddly eager. “I have never allowed a lady to arrange an entire evening for me without asking what she intended.”