“Then whose are you?”
“No one’s. No one ever notices me.”
“That can’t be right,” he said, but he’d lost the teasing note in his voice. “You are delectable.”
“I am nothing compared to my mother, as my soon-to-be step-father has made exceptionally clear,” she said tonelessly.
“Well, I always did think him a fool.”
Her eyes snapped back to his. “My mother is beautiful.”
“Perhaps, if you like vulgarity. You have something far more precious.”
The look she gave him now was full of suspicion. “Now I understand—you’re a rake.”
Her comment, artless as it was endearing, almost made him laugh. “Not to ladies like you,” he assured her.
She gave him a long, assessing look, the suspicion not entirely gone from her eyes, and held out her hand for the bottle. “I need another drink.”
ChapterFour
Sybil drank the wine greedily, enjoying the taste of it on her tongue, and only stopped when her companion took the bottle from her.
“That’s enough,” he said authoritatively, as though she were his sister—although the coloring was all wrong for that. She was far too pale to belong to his family. He sported dark hair and darker skin than hers. The sun was probably doing her untold damage, but she couldn’t care too much about that now.
There were a thousand reasons why she shouldn’t be here, sharing a bottle of wine with a footman claiming to be the son of a Duke. Or the brother of a Duke. She couldn’t remember, and it didn’t matter, anyway. This was distinctly inappropriate. Although her mother would approve. Which only made itmoreinappropriate.
But her mind was fuzzy enough that she couldn’t quite remember what those reasons were, and what she had even been so upset over. No, she did remember. The painting. That wasmorethan enough reason to have been upset.
George looked at her with amusement, as though she had done something funny. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because I have never seen a lady drink wine like that before,” he said.
The truth was, she had neverhadwine like that before, either, but now didn’t seem the appropriate moment to point that out.
“You should be careful,” he said, taking another drink himself. “The last thing we need is for you to drink too much.”
“I’ll have you know I’m more than familiar with wine and its effects,” she flashed. Which was true. She had seen what happened when her mother drank too much, or when Thomas had imbibed a little more than he should have done.
Both reacted differently. Her mother became remarkably fluid, leaning against any gentleman in reach, mostly with her breasts. It was incredible, really, how her breasts managed to always be the thing that encountered any gentleman first, no matter their relative positions.
Thomas just got louder, and occasionally belligerent.
Sybil was determined to be like neither.
“Are you?” George asked, a tiny smile playing around his mouth. “Tell me, Lady Sybil, does the world look as though it’s in its proper place?”
She blinked. Now he mentioned it, everythingdidseem a little hazy, as though her eyes were struggling to bring everything into focus, but there was no chance she would ever confess that to him. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
“Bold words for a lady trapped with a man in the middle of nowhere without a chaperone.”
“Why?” she asked, raising both her brows. “Are you going to compromise me?”
“Not at all,” he said. “I never compromise ladies.”
The emphasis onladieswas not lost on her. “Oh?” she asked. “But you will compromise other women?”
His brows descended over his eyes. “I don’t compromise anyone who doesn’t wish it. Whatever your opinion of me, I’m not that depraved.”
