"Mr. Siddons? James?"
He looked up, aware that he'd been woolgathering. Good God, but she had the face of an angel. He found it nearly impossible to believe she thought she needed help in finding a husband. But she did think it, and that gave him the most splendid opportunity…
"When you were practicing on me," he asked in a low, focused voice, "who was your ultimate goal?"
"You mean to marry?"
"Yes."
She blinked and her mouth moved slightly before she said, "I-I don't know, actually. I hadn't gotten quite that far in my thinking. I was merely hoping to attend one of Lady Danbury's gatherings. It seemed as good a place as any to find an eligible gentleman."
"Has she one scheduled soon?"
"A gathering? Yes. It is to be Saturday, I believe. A small garden party."
James sat back. Damn. His aunt hadn't told him she was expecting company. If any of her guests were acquaintances of his, he'd have to make himself very scarce very fast. The last thing he needed was some London dandy slapping him on the back in front of Elizabeth and calling him Riverdale.
"I don't believe anyone is planning to stay the night, however," she added.
James nodded thoughtfully. “Then this will be an excellent opportunity for you."
"I see," she said, not sounding nearly as excited as he would have expected.
"All you need to do is determine which men are unmarried and choose the best of the lot."
"I have already looked over the guest list, and there are several unattached gentlemen expected. But"-she let out a frustrated laugh-"you've forgotten one thing, James. The gentleman in question must also choose me."
He waved off her protest, "Failure is not a possibility. By the time we're through with you-"
"I don't like the sound of that."
"-you'll be impossible to resist."
One of Elizabeth's hands unconsciously rose to her cheek as she stared at him in amazement. Was he offering to train her? To render her marriageable? She didn't know why she should be so surprised by this-after all, he had never made an indication-save for one sweet kiss-that he was interested in her for himself. And besides, she had made it clear that she could not marry a penniless estate manager.
So then why was she so depressed that he seemed so eager to marry her off to a wealthy, well-connected gentleman-exactly what she told him she wanted and needed out of life?
"What does this training entail?" she asked suspiciously.
"Well, we haven't much time," he mused, "and there's nothing we can do about your wardrobe."
"How kind of you to point that out," she muttered.
He shot her a vaguely remonstrating look. “If I recall, you had no compunction about insulting my wardrobe earlier."
He had her there, she allowed. Good manners forced her to say, somewhat grudgingly, "Your boots are very nice."
He grinned and regarded his footwear, which, though old, appeared very well-made. "Yes, they are, aren't they?"
"If a bit scuffed," she added.
"I shall polish them tomorrow," he promised, his somewhat superior look telling her that he refused to rise to her bait.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "That was uncalled for. Compliments should be freely given, without restrictions or qualifications."
He looked at her with an oddly assessing expression for a moment before asking, “Do you know what I like about you, Elizabeth?"
She couldn't even possibly imagine.
"You're as kind and good a person as they come," he continued, "but unlike most kind and good people, you don't preach or cloy, or try to make everyone else kind and good."
Her mouth dropped open. This was the most unbelievable speech.
"And underneath all that kindness and goodness, you seem to possess a wicked sense of humor, no matter how hard you occasionally try to suppress it."
Oh, dear Lord, if he said anything more, she was going to fall in love with him on the spot.
"There's no harm in poking fun at a friend as long as you intend no malice," he said, his voice melting into a soft caress. "And I don't think you would know how to be malicious if someone offered you a dissertation on the subject."
"Then I suppose that makes us friends," she said, her voice catching slightly,
He smiled at her, and her heart stopped beating. “You really have no choice but to be friends with me," he said, leaning closer. “After all, I know all of your most embarrassing secrets."
A nervous giggle escaped her lips. "A friend who is going to find me a husband. How quaint."
"Well, I should think I could do a better job than Mrs. Seeton. If that is indeed-"
"Don't say it," she warned.
"Consider it not said. But if you want some help…" He looked at her closely. "You do want help, don't you?"
"Er, yes." I think.
"We will need to begin right away."
Elizabeth glanced over at an ornate table clock Lady Danbury had had imported from Switzerland. "I'm due back in the drawing room in less than an hour."
He flipped through a few pages of HOW TO MARRY A MARQUIS, shaking his head as he scanned the words. "Hmm, that's not very much time, but-" He looked up sharply. “How did you manage to escape Lady Danbury at this time of day?"
"She's taking a nap."
"Again?" His face showed his surprise clearly.
She shrugged. “I found it just as unbelievable as you do, but she insisted. She demanded absolute silence and told me not to rouse her for seventy minutes."
"Seventy?"
Elizabeth grimaced. "That's to keep me on my toes. I'm quoting her on that, by the way."
"Somehow that does not surprise me." James drummed his fingers on the library's main table, then looked up. "We can start after you finish with her this afternoon. I'll need some time to devise a lesson plan, and-"
"A lesson plan?" she echoed.
"We need to be organized. Organization renders any goal reachable."
Her mouth fell open.
He frowned. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"You sound exactly like Lady Danbury. In fact, she says that very same phrase."
"Is that so?" James coughed, then cleared his throat. Damn, but he was slipping up. Something about Elizabeth and those angel-blue eyes of hers made him forget that he was working undercover. He should never have used one of Aunt Agatha's favorite maxims. They'd been drummed into his head so frequently as a child that they were now his maxims as well.
He'd forgotten that he was talking to the one person who knew every single one of Agatha's quirks as well as he did. "I'm certain it's just a coincidence," he said, keeping his tone firm. It was his experience that people tended to believe whatever he said as long as he sounded as if he knew what he was talking about.
But not, apparently, Elizabeth. "She says it at least once a week."
"Well, then, I'm sure I must have heard her at some point."
She seemed to accept that explanation, for she let the matter drop and instead said, "You were saying something about lesson plans…"
“Right. I will need the afternoon to plan, but perhaps we might meet when you are done with Lady Danbury. I will walk you home, and we can begin en route."
She smiled weakly. "Very well. I shall meet you at the front gate at thirty-five minutes past four. I am dismissed at half four," she explained, "but it will take me five minutes to walk to the gate."
"Can we not simply meet here?"
She shook her head. “Not unless you want every gossip at Danbury House talking about us."
"An excellent point. The front gate it is, then."
Elizabeth nodded and left the room, her wobbly legs just managing to make it back to the cushioned bench. Dear Lord, what on earth had she gotten herself into?
Meow.
She looked down. Malcolm the demon cat was sitting at her feet, staring at her as if she were a kitchen rat.