She glanced at him. He was staring out the window, a muscle pulsing in his smoothly shaven cheek, verifying the tight set of his jaw. His stubborn jaw. Although, she couldn’t deny that it was a strong stubborn jaw. With an intriguing hint of a cleft in the center. Philip hadn’t mentioned that. Nor had he mentioned Mr. Stanton’s profile… the slight bump on the bridge of his nose. Most likely a souvenir from one of his pugilistic bouts. It should have detracted from his appearance. Instead, it lent him a rugged air, mixed with just a whiff of danger, reminding her that in spite of his elegant clothes, he was not of her class. Rough around the edges.
And undeniably attractive.
“You’ve a most intriguing expression, Lady Catherine. Would you care to share your thoughts?”
Heat flooded her cheeks. Good Lord, how long had she been staring? And why was he looking at her in that… speculative way? As if he’d already divined her thoughts? Humph. Just another aspect of him to term irritating.
Adopting what she hoped passed for a casual air, she said, “I was thinking that in spite of the time we’ve spent together over the past fourteen months, we really do not know each other very well.” She lifted her brows. “What were you thinking?”
“Actually something quite similar-that I do not know you as well as I believed.”
She wrinkled her nose and pointedly sniffed the air. “Somehow that did not smell like a compliment.”
“It was not meant as an insult, I assure you.” Mischief flickered in his eyes. “Would you like a compliment? I’m certain I could think of one, if it would please you.”
“I beg you, do not strain yourself on my account,” she said in a dust-dry voice.
He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “ ‘Tis no strain, I assure you.” His gaze flickered over her forest green traveling ensemble. “You look lovely.”
Three simple words. Yet something about the quiet way he said “lovely,” combined with the unmistakable warmth in his eyes, quivered a fluttery thrill through her. He stole any reply she might have made by focusing his attention on her mouth. “And your lips…”his eyes appeared to darken, and he leaned forward. Everything inside Catherine stilled-except those inexplicable flutters, which suddenly became so much more… fluttery. Good heavens, was he going to kiss her? Surely not…
Her own gaze riveted on his lips, and for the first time she realized what an attractive mouth he possessed. It somehow managed to appear soft and firm at the same time. The sort of mouth that would know how to kiss a woman-
“Your lips,” he said softly, leaning farther still, until less than two feet separated their faces, until she had to fight the overwhelming urge to lean toward him and erase the small distance. “They look so… much less swollen and bruised than they did after last night’s incident. Almost back to their normal loveliness.”
He leaned back and shot her a grin. Whatever madness had enveloped her disintegrated like a puff of smoke, and she abruptly straightened, pressing her back against the cushion, appalled. Not so much at him, but at herself. Heat crept up her neck, and she prayed her face wasn’t turning red. Good heavens, for one insane instant she’d thought he meant to… that she wanted him to…
Kiss her. But even more humiliating was the fact that she felt deflated because he hadn’t. Egad, she was losing her mind.
“You see?” he said. “Contrary to your belief, I’m perfectly capable of bestowing compliments. And I’m greatly looking forward to my visit to your home, as it will give us the opportunity to discover how much more we don’t know about each other.”
Good Lord, the things he did not know about her, she intended to keep that way. “Wonderful. I cannot… wait.”
Instead of taking offense at her deflating tone, his grin broadened. “Please, do not strain yourself with enthusiasm on my behalf.”
Humph. How dare he have good humor when he was supposed to be abashed? Must be the American in him. Well, he might plan that they would get to know each other better during his stay, but as Today’s Modern Woman well knew, she did not have to fall in with any man’s plans if she did not want to.
And based on the secrets she had to keep, Catherine most definitely did not want to.
Chapter 5
Today’s Modern Woman needs to recognize that there are times when Society’s restrictive rules should be roundly and soundly ignored. And the more attractive the gentleman in question, the more roundly and soundly the ignoring should be-discreetly, of course.
A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of
Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment
by Charles Brightmore
“Bickley cottage will come into view in a moment,” Lady Catherine said two hours later, pointing toward the left. “Just beyond this copse of trees.”
Thank God. Andrew hoped his relief wasn’t too obvious. The four-hour journey had felt more like four months. The last two hours had consisted of alternating awkward silences and stilted conversation. She’d studiously concentrated on her embroidery, but he prided himself on being able to read people, and she was clearly preoccupied about something. His instincts told him she was thinking about last night’s incident, which he suspected was worrying her far more than she’d admitted.
He focused his attention out the window, taking in the verdant countryside. He couldn’t wait to get out of the close quarters of the carriage, where he’d spent the last four torturous hours breathing in her delicate floral fragrance. He blew out a long, careful breath. God, did a woman exist who smelled better? No. Impossible. It had taken every ounce of his strength not to touch her, to lean closer and simply breathe her in. He had given in to the excruciating temptation and leaned closer once, and the effort he’d expended not to kiss her had cost him.
Patience. He needed to remember his campaign of subtle, gentle wooing. If he moved too quickly, he sensed she would retreat like a frightened doe. Of course, the fact that she was clearly irked with him in regards to the Guide didn’t serve him well, although he himself found her enthusiasm for Brightmore’s book and all that Today’s Modern Woman rubbish irritating as well. He suspected she would not be pleased if she were to learn that he’d been hired to locate and unmask her literary idol, Charles Brightmore.
Although his quest to find the man was temporarily suspended while he remained in Little Longstone, he’d apply himself fully to the task once he returned to London. Charles Brightmore would be exposed, Andrew would collect a very handsome fee, and all this nonsense about Today’s Modern Woman would fade away, which in turn would evaporate the tension that had sprung up between him and Lady Catherine. In the meanwhile, he’d take full advantage of his opportunity to spend time with her and set his wooing campaign into motion.
Less than a minute later, they rounded a corner in the path, revealing a stately white-columned, brick home nestled cozily against a backdrop of massive trees, gently rolling hills, and verdant lawns. The variant shades of green were broken by meandering trails of vivid purple-and-pink, interspersed with blankets of pastel-hued wild-flowers. Shards of late-afternoon sunlight glinted off the house’s gleaming, round-topped windows, drenching the mellowed brick facade in a golden glow. The entire scene reflected picturesque, country tranquillity. A calm, safe haven for her and her son, far away from the cruel pettiness of Society.
“I can see why you love it here,” he said.
“It’s home,” she said quietly.