She drew a breath. “My lord, you are kind to inquire. The pamphlet was a misunderstanding, but I confess I am flattered that anyone found my life interesting enough to write about. Now tell me, I understand your daughter is out this Season. She must be enjoying the festivities.”
Hugo tilted his head. “Better. Much better. You acknowledged his question, deflected with humor, and then handed him his favorite subject: himself. A man who is talking about his own family is a man who has forgotten what he came to ask.” He paused. “But your posture is wrong.”
“My posture?” She asked, looking down at her stance in confusion.
“Your shoulders are squared, your chin is lifted, and your hands are clasped in front of you like a governess about to deliver a reprimand.” He glanced over her shoulder. The nearest guests remained occupied. He stepped closer. “Drop your shoulders.”
She hesitated, then let them fall.
“Softer. Not defeated. Relaxed.” He moved to her side, close enough that his voice would not carry. “Tilt your head when you ask a question. Not like a puppy. Like a woman who finds the answer genuinely interesting.”
“I do not find Lord Gould genuinely interesting.”
“Then pretend. That is the entire point.” He studied the line of her neck, the way the candlelight caught the pearls threaded through her hair and made himself focus. “When you redirect the conversation, keep your shoulders open. It signals that you are inviting him to continue, not dismissing him.”
“This is absurd,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“This is how the game is played.” He lowered his voice. “Let us try again. I am going to say something deliberately provoking, and you are going to respond without drawing blood.”
He stepped back into position and adopted Gould’s expression.
“Lady Lily, I must confess, I was astonished by the engagement. The Duke of Thornwaite is a man of considerable experience,and you are, well, rather bookish, are you not? An unusual pairing, to say the least.”
Lily’s eyes flashed. He saw the retort form on her tongue, saw her jaw tighten with the effort of biting it back. Her hands curled at her sides. For a moment, he thought she would fail again.
Then she tilted her head. The tension left her shoulders. A small, warm smile curved her lips, and when she spoke, her voice carried a softness that he had never heard from her before.
“How perceptive of you, Lord Gould. I suppose we are an unusual pairing. But then, the Duke has always been full of surprises.” She let the smile reach her eyes. “As have I.”
Hugo held the pose for a beat. Then he let Lord Gould fall away and looked at her as himself.
“Well done.”
Something sparked in her expression. Not the defensive sharpness he was accustomed to, but something warmer. He saw pleasure behind her eyes, but then, it was quickly suppressed.
“It felt dishonest.”
“It felt strategic. There is a difference.” He stepped closer, checking over her shoulder that no one watched. “One more correction.”
He reached out and touched two fingers to the underside of her chin. The contact was featherlight, barely a graze, but Lily went utterly still. He tilted her chin up by a fraction of an inch.
“When you deliver the final line,” he said, and his voice came low enough that it was meant for her alone, “look him in the eye. Not with defiance. With warmth. As though you are letting him in on a secret that only the two of you share.”
Her breath shallowed. He could see it in the rise and fall of her chest. The green of her irises was darker this close, ringed with gold, and for a moment the ballroom, the lesson, the performance all fell away, and there was nothing but the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips and the silence that stretched between them like a held breath.
He dropped his hand.
“Like that,” he said.
Lily blinked. She stepped back, and the rigidness returned to her posture like armor being buckled into place.
Her cheeks heated. “I was practicing the technique.”
“Of course you were.”
“I was.”
“I said of course.” He let the corner of his mouth lift. “You are a very dedicated student, Lady Lily.”
