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A low voice drawled from the darkened corner to her left, “Come now, I am sure you can do better than that.”
Pippa screamed.
Chapter 2
Her heart in her throat, and a hand covering her mouth, Pippa whirled toward the darkened corner. She flushed in embarrassment and gripped the folds of her gown. Someone had heard her crude and unladylike utterances. And worst, he’d witnessed her shameful and private exchange with Nigel, a scandal even worst than before loomed. She and mamma would never recover.
“A bloody idiotic bacon-brained ass, a blackguard of the highest order, a dishonorable bounder. A pig’s arse, a maggot, a scalawag, a pompous lobcock,” the voice continued, shocking her silly. “Be free with your curses, I will not tell a soul.”
A horrified sound slipped from her and mortification crawled through her at his very vulgar tongue. This man was unpardonable. She briefly glanced back at the door she had just closed, wondering if she attempted to flee if she would make it before the man behind the voice reacted.
“Have I rendered you silent?” he asked with rough amusement.
Pippa honestly had no words.
“How odd, a woman of your…fire seemed to be made of sterner stuff.”
Now the tone was mockingly bemused.
Peering in his darkened corner, she lifted her chin. “Who are you, sir?” And how dare he witness such a private moment and not reveal himself. Not the mark of a gentleman at all.
“Ah…are we affecting introductions then?”
She choked, but managed to say, after a brief struggle, “No.” Suddenly she did not care to know the identity of the man in the shadows. She inched back toward the door.
The clink of glasses sounded, arresting her movements. Pippa could not say why she stood there or what she waited for. She jerked when the gas lamp switched on, bathing the library in a soft, intimate glow. The man was revealed, and her breath audibly hitched to her great mortification.
He was unquestionably handsome with his sensual mouth, prominent cheekbones, and thick raven-black hair. He was a stranger to her, and apparently a wealthy man of fashion—garbed in black trousers and jacket, with a golden waistcoat, and expertly tied cravat. His raven hair was impeccably styled, curling softly at his nape.
Had she ever seen a gentleman so exquisitely dressed, commanding, and terribly attractive? His lips curved at her unabashed and very impolite regard. The stranger studied her a moment longer, then slowly stood up, straightening to an impressive height of well over six feet. The stranger was tall with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, lean hips, and long legs. He was put together too fine, he really was.
She was painfully aware of him taking several slow, measured steps closer. The sharp lines of his jaw were clean-shaven, revealing every arrogant line of his handsome features. His eyes, which were deep-set, and a striking silver held an expression of faint surprise as he stared at her.
“Hello,” he said mildly.
Her heart tripped, and wings of indecision took flight in her stomach. Caution urged her to flee with haste. Pippa had never known such awareness of another gentleman, not even the cad who had just broken her hopes. To escape now, she might encounter a wagging tongue who would speculate on her tear-stained face and evidently wounded eyes. But regardless, if she possessed any wisp of rationality, she would depart immediately.
He held out one of his hand, and she lowered her eyes. He held a glass filled with amber liquid. She snapped her gaze back to his.
“I might scream,” she said huskily.
“I am persuaded I may rely on your good sense not to do so. I believe you might need fortification,” he said softly, and she blinked at the compassion and lack of judgment in his tone.
She stared, feeling stupefied.
He arched a brow and lifted one of the glass. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
“It is unladylike to drink,” she replied, unsure of his intention, and far more alarmed as to why she was not running. No satisfactory answer presented itself, and her feet remained rooted as if they had a will of their own.
He smiled—a wicked, dangerous smile that made her nerves leap.
“It is also unladylike to curse, and I thought you did rather well for an evident fledging. I was impressed.”
Her eyes widened at his gall, and she hated to admit there was a strange but very becoming warmth unfurling somewhere low in her stomach.
He was smiling at her, and, try as she would, she was incapable of resisting the impulse to return that small bit of shared intimacy. How complicated could a smile be? For it hinted at shared amusement and could be an invitation to friendship, a liking, or even more. She was addled. There was no question about it.
He moved a bit closer, and she retreated. He held up the glasses in his hand as if to indicate surrender. "I swear on my honor you have nothing to fear from me, Miss—?"
