Devon had changed into evening dress, his coat of midnight blue fitting his broad shoulders to perfection and his cravat tied in an intricate style that spoke to his valet's considerable skill. Yet there was something less formal about his manner, a relaxation that suggested he was genuinely at ease in his own home.
"I trust your first day as companion has not proven too onerous," he said as he handed her into her chair with old-fashioned courtesy.
"Not at all, Your Grace," Arabella replied, acutely aware of the warmth of his hand through her glove. "Livia has been the perfect hostess."
"She has indeed," Devon agreed, settling into his own chair with fluid grace. "I confess myself curious about your impressions of the house. Does it meet with your approval?"
Arabella accepted a glass of wine from the attending footman, grateful for something to occupy her hands. "It is magnificent beyond anything I had imagined. You possess exquisite taste, Your Grace."
"Do I?" Devon's tone was lightly mocking. "Or do I merely possess the resources to purchase the advice of those who do?"
"I think," Arabella said carefully, "that true appreciation of beauty cannot be bought. It must be felt, understood on a level that transcends mere acquisition."
Devon's dark eyes fixed upon her with sudden intensity. "And do you believe me capable of such feeling, Miss Greystone?"
The question hung in the air between them, loaded with implications that neither Livia's presence nor the formal setting could entirely mask. Arabella found herself holding his gaze, unable to look away despite the dangerous territory they were approaching.
"I believe," she said quietly, "that you are capable of far more than you allow the world to see."
Something flickered in Devon's expression, which seemed as surprise or a momentary dropping of his carefully maintained mask. Before he could respond, however, Livia launched into an enthusiastic description of their afternoon's activities, effectively breaking the charged moment.
As the meal progressed through its various courses, Arabella found herself relaxing despite the undercurrent of attraction that seemed to flow between Devon and herself. The conversation ranged from politics to literature to art, and she discovered that both siblings possessed keen intellects and strong opinions on a variety of subjects.
"You mentioned an interest in sketching," Devon said as they waited for the dessert course. "What subjects do you prefer?"
"Landscapes, primarily," Arabella replied. "Though I occasionally attempt portraits when I can persuade someone to sit still long enough."
"Perhaps you might sketch the garden while the roses are still in bloom," Livia suggested eagerly. "The morning light is particularly lovely from the conservatory windows."
"An excellent suggestion," Devon agreed. "Though I confess myself curious whether Miss Greystone's talents extend to... less conventional subjects."
There was something in his tone that made Arabella glanceat him sharply, noting the slight smile that curved his lips and the mischievous glint in his dark eyes.
"What manner of subjects did you have in mind, Your Grace?" she asked warily.
"Oh, nothing too scandalous," Devon replied with exaggerated innocence. "Though I have heard that some artists find the human form to be the most challenging and rewarding of subjects."
Arabella felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment and indignation. "Your Grace!"
"Devon!" Livia exclaimed simultaneously; her voice sharp with disapproval. "You are being deliberately inappropriate."
Devon's laughter was rich and unrepentant. "Forgive me, ladies. I could not resist the opportunity to see Miss Greystone blush so charmingly. She has such remarkable composure that one cannot help but wonder what it might take to discompose her."
The comment, delivered with silky amusement, made Arabella's pulse quicken in a most alarming fashion. She recognized the challenge in his words, the deliberate provocation designed to test her reactions.
"I am not so easily discomposed as you might imagine, Your Grace," she said with as much dignity as she could muster.
"Are you not?" Devon leaned back in his chair, studying her with the predatory focus of a cat watching a particularlyinteresting mouse. "How fascinating. I do so enjoy... challenges."
Before Arabella could formulate a suitable response to this outrageous statement, the dessert course arrived, providing a welcome distraction from the dangerous direction of their conversation.
As they enjoyed the delicate syllabub and sweet biscuits, the talk turned to plans for the following day. Livia expressed eagerness to begin preparing for her eventual debut in society, whilst Devon mentioned several matters of business that would require his attention.
"I fear I shall be occupied with my solicitor for much of tomorrow," he said with apparent regret. "Estate matters, you understand. Most tedious, but necessary."
"Of course," Arabella replied, though she found herself strangely disappointed by the prospect of his absence. "Livia and I shall find plenty to occupy our time."
"I do not doubt it," Devon said, his gaze lingering on her face with an intensity that made her feel quite warm despite the reasonable temperature of the dining room. "You strike me as a woman who knows how to... make the most of her opportunities."
