“My charm,” Isobel repeated dryly. “You have not exactly sung praises of my charming nature thus far, yet you sound convinced such a thing exists. I have tried to be charming, as you taught me previously. But all anyone wanted to tell me was useless information.”
“That is because you have not been trying to be charming,” Richard countered, a hint of amusement touching his lips. “You have been sympathetic and imploring, which is entirely different – and occasionally useful. However, that is not what you need right now. You need to make people feel at ease, and then you will draw information out of them, without them even fathoming what it is you are doing.”
Isobel frowned. “And how exactly does one do that?”
Richard pointed at his face, raising his finger to his eyes, before bringing it down to his lips, using the pointer finger and thumb to stretch his lips into a stiff smile.
“It might seem unlikely, but your expressions can grant you grace among others very easily. Most people are more trusting when they are smiled at or teased in a way that makes them feel special and makes them receive the attention you are offering. You can say whatever you want, and you will never be caught because your smile has confused them into believing it was a joke. As I said before, everyone likes to be showered with attention. A single tilt of your head will make you appearinterested in whatever is being said. You need to be able to capture attention and distract others from whatever they might have been focused on…” Richard's gaze held hers, and there was something in his expression that caused her breath to hitch in her throat. “By becoming... irresistible.”
The word hung in the air between them, its meaning as heavy as the implication. Isobel felt heat creep into her cheeks, but she refused to look away.
“Show me, then,” she said, lifting her chin slightly.
Richard's eyes darkened, and she wondered if perhaps she had made a mistake. But as he rose from his chair and moved to sit beside her on the settee, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body, anticipation began to fill her nerves. Their eyes met, and her heart began to flutter in her chest, like a bird in a cage.
“First,” he said, his voice lower now, “It is imperative that you learn to control your reactions. Right now, your face shows and tells all that you feel. It is not a bad thing – more often than not, it is a useful skill. But that is only when you deliberately wish to reveal what you want to be seen by others.”
Isobel tried to compose her features, but it was difficult to focus with him sitting so close. That scent – his scent was filling her senses, stopping her from getting the results she wanted as she breathed in deeply, drawing in the warm, spicy smell deep within her.
“When you wish to portray innocence and naivety, you must appeal to them softly. Smile innocently, widen your eyes slightly, and be sure to nod in an exaggerated manner at whatever they say. This makes you seem unknowledgeable, and harmless, and they will believe that you are incapable of deception.”
Isobel attempted to mirror the expression, feeling ridiculous immediately after she began.
“No, not like that. Like – a-are you all right? You look as though you are in pain.” A small smile tugged at his lips, this one much different from the one he had flashed at her when he made the suggestion. “Soften your mouth a tad. Yes, like that. Better.”
They continued like this for a while, Richard showing her different expressions, varying ways to carry herself, to make gestures, to utilize her voice. Despite herself – and the initial tension hanging over their heads, Isobel found she was beginning to enjoy the lesson. There was something about it that lent an air of closeness, from the way he studied her so intently in order to correct her expressions to the way his corrections required him to touch her sometimes – adjusting the angle of her chin, the position of her shoulders.
“You are doing better,” he murmured after a while, and the approval in his voice sent a warm flush through her.
“Thank you. It does help quite a bit that you are a proficient instructor.” She found herself smiling at him, her heart quaking when he gave her an expression that seemed as open as her smile.
Then, abruptly, his expression shifted into something dimmer, more unsure. Slightly, he pulled back, running a hand through his hair, looking a little unsure of what to do.
“Miss Wightman, I... I must apologize,” Richard said suddenly, his eyes straying away from hers. “For kissing you last night. It was a despicable action – and very inappropriate of me. I took liberties I had no right to take, and I–”
“Stop.” The word came out sharper than Isobel intended.
The duke fell silent, and she forced herself to inhale deeply as something hot and painful seemed to twist in her chest.
“Was it truly such a mistake? Kissing me?”
Richard's gaze snapped to hers, confusion flickering across his features. “I did not say it was a mistake–”
“You implied as much,” Isobel interrupted, rising to her feet. Her hands trembled slightly, and she clasped them together. “Because I am unlike the other ladies of the ton, is that it? Compared to them, I am rude and improper. No better than a barn animal.”
“That is not–” Richard stood as well, frustration evident in the tone of his voice and on the stiff lines of his frame. “You are manipulating my words.”
“Is that so? Am I truly doing that?” Isobel challenged. “How rude of me. In that case, wouldn’t you share what you meant by that, then, Your Grace? Pray, enlighten me.”
Richard stared at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Something seemed to be caught in a fierce battle within him, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Then, suddenly, he closed the distance between them, stopping just inches from her, unable to ignore the satisfaction that climbed up his spine as her green eyes widened in surprise.
“What do you want from me?” he demanded to know, his voice hoarse. “Do you want me to tell you that I never once felt as though I made a mistake by kissing you? That I have been unable to think of anything else since? That even now, standing here, all I can think about is doing it again?”
Isobel's breath caught in her throat, and she parted her lips to respond, only to close them once more as she realized her mind was unable to formulate the words she would use.
“Because I could,” Richard continued, his icy blue eyes boring into hers. “I could throw caution to the wind and do all the things I want to do to you. But if I did, you would be ruined for anyone else. Do you understand that?”
Isobel’s mouth felt dry, and speaking still felt like a far-fetched dream. Somehow, she managed a slight shake of her head, feeling as though she was witnessing a situation out of her own skin.
