My, but had she been correct about his body beneath the layers of his coat. She stared dumbly for several minutes at the width of his shoulders, the trimness of his waist, and the staggeringly strong length of his legs in his well-fitted breeches and tall, polished Hessians. He dressed remarkably well for a man who did…what he did for a living.
Still, despite the fine appearance of his dress, there was something dangerous about him. It had to be his eyes.
“Would you like my card?” His voice snapped her back to attention and, belatedly, she realized she was holding his outer garments and had no idea what to do with them.
“No, that will not be necessary. I know just who you are.” Had she been less nervous, she might have pondered the oddity of the inquiry, but she wasn’t and she hadn’t. How fancy must a fancy man be to have calling cards?
She nearly snorted aloud but caught herself just in time. It was probably bad form to laugh at one’s silent jokes in such a situation.
“Are you alone?” the man asked, looking around as if more people would pop from the floral-papered walls. His voice was unexpectedly melodious.
“No; I mean, mostly.” He stared at her in silence. “Our butler is quite old. And deaf. He’s retired for the evening. He shouldn’t interrupt anything.” One of those dark brows quirked up at her again. Still, the silence stretched.
“Well,” Ariel began awkwardly, still carrying the man’s hat and cloak for lack of any appropriate place to hang them and not quite sure what to do with them; “I suppose we should begin. If you’ll just…follow me, please.” She began to lead the way back into the parlor—she wasn’t quite ready to drag the man to her bedchamber just yet—when she miscalculated just how much fabric made up the greatcoat in her arms. The toe of her slipper hooked in a fold of the dark wool and she stumbled forward. She probably would have landed face-first in a pile on the floor had the man not caught her elbow with all the speed and grace of a kingfisher.
“Steady,” he cautioned her.
“Oh!” Ariel righted herself and looked up into his face, having just realized why she found his voice so different. “Are you American?”
There was a wry tilt to his lips as if he were asked this often or it was commonly remarked upon. “I am.”
“Interesting,” she replied with a smile. This humanized the man, somehow; made him less intimidating now that she was aware of this single fact about him.
“Is it?” He made sure she found her feet once more before he released her.
She lifted a shoulder in response. “I suppose it makes you rather unique. I’ve never met an American before; let alone a man like you.”
“Like me?”
Ariel’s cheeks burned and she cleared her throat. “If you’ll follow me, please?” She hiked the greatcoat higher in her arms and led the way. She glanced around in indecision before finally settling on draping the coat on a chair and resting the hat on top. The man eyed her decision, but, thankfully, did not remark upon the unorthodox behavior.
She watched as he proceeded to take a turn around the room with slow strides, examining the artwork and appraising the furniture. It didn’t take long, not with the length of those legs of his. He seemed disinclined to speak, so she clenched her hands, steeled her spine, and broke the silence.
“I’m afraid I have never performed one of these transactions.” “No?” He faced her with his arms crossed behind his back; a single thick curl of hair fell across the middle of his forehead. He was somehow even more beautiful in the candlelight filling the parlor. His skin had a healthy glow to it as if he spent a great deal of time outdoors.
She could now fully appreciate the sculpture of his face and the fine lines of his cheekbones. “I was under the impression that a great many women performed transactions such as this.” Was that sarcasm? Wryness? A jaded personality? She decided itwas probably some of all of it, likely inherent with the trade and the lifestyle.
“Really?”
He stared her down with those penetrating eyes of his. They flickered with intelligence and, perhaps, a measure of amusement. She chose to take it as a compliment.
She gave herself a mental shake, cleared her throat, and, on impulse, she gave him leave him to call her by her given name. “You may address me as Ariel.” She was pleased with the steadiness and confidence her voice conveyed. It was not a liberty she’d ever offered a man and, for such a little thing, it was surprisingly thrilling. “It might feel strange to conduct such business with a wall of formalities between us.”
The man examined her for several heavy seconds before replying. “Why, exactly, do you believe I am here,Ariel?” Her given name on his lips made her knees tremble. There was something so deliciously wicked about the casualness of it. She was alone with a man—a very handsome one, at that—for the first time in her life and he was using her name. If she overlooked the fact that she was paying him to do so, it was quite nice. And unbelievably exciting.
She exhaled a slow breath and spoke as evenly as she could. “Tomorrow I celebrate my thirtieth birthday. As I am sure you can see, I’m no conventional beauty. I’m fine with it; really, I am. I love myself, but men of thetondo not seem to agree. I have gone nearly three decades without a husband, an acceptable proposal, a decent suitor, or even a proper kiss. You, sir, have been hired because I have decided to take my life and my future into my own hands. I refuse to allow Society to dictate my life any longer, and I see no point in saving my virtue for a man who certainly does not exist. If I am to be a spinster for the rest of my days, then I do not wish to be an ignorant one. This is where you come in…” She held out her hands palms up, her voice as steadyand as brave as she could make it. “I am a virgin, and I no longer wish to be one when the sun rises tomorrow.”
Chapter Two
Charles nearly choked on his tongue.
Had the girl truly said what he thought she had?
He’d sensed something was off when the door was answered by a woman who—given her mein, carriage, and dress—was of obvious quality.
When she, herself, took his greatcoat and his hat and was then lost with what to do with them.
When he’d had an appointment to discuss the purchase of a damned horse from the Earl of Darby and had, instead, encountered only this woman. (Don’t misunderstand him, she was an intriguing, attractive woman, but she was hardly the Earl of Darby.)
