Lord Alexander looked behind him, as if to confirm that someone else was a party to, and just as confused by, this mystifying conversation. Alas, he and the girl were completely alone—something he was about to rectify, since ruining innocents was not for him. As he went to excuse himself, however, he found something else coming out of his mouth.
“Yes, you usedbollockswith great mastery.”
“It was my first time saying it aloud.”
“Quite?”
“Yes. Well, again, I beg your forgiveness for the bollocks incident. I read once that it was the best course of action in an abduction. I am glad to discover the maneuver’s success, and sorry it came at your expense. I do hope it recovers.”
“An abduction?” Alexander found himself hiding a smirk.
“Yes. Why else would a man come up behind me?” The smirk quickly morphed into a cough as Alexander choked on absolutely nothing. There were many reasons he could conceive of that a man might want to come up behind her.
“The apology is mine to make. I am afraid I mistook you for your sister, whom I was supposed to meet here.” Now that he saw her face, he had a rather difficult time imagining that anyone could confuse the two. This girl—Lady Harriet, was it?—had a rounder face and a less prominent nose. They had the same coloring: chestnut hair; dark, dominating eyebrows; gray eyes; less fair skin than was strictly fashionable. But Lady Harriet had a fuller mouth. Lush lips, one of which she was biting now, apparently because of nerves. Lady Ellerton, on the other hand, did not seem the sort to fall prey to nerves. The woman before him had none of her sister’s sultriness. Yet something about her struck him as far more dangerous.
“I’m sorry to have interrupted your assignation,” she said, bowing to him as she took her leave.
“Lady Harriet,” he called after her. Once again, he was unsure why he felt the desire to stretch the time he was alone with an unwed woman. “You used it incorrectly.”
“Pardon?”
“You said you hope ‘it’ recovers, butbollocksis plural.Theyrecover.” Harriet’s eyes widened and he immediately regretted having spoken up. What kind of gentleman—not that he usually identified as such—said such a thing in the presence of a lady, let alonetoher? And when was the last time he’d overthought a remark to a woman?Christ, but this was why he avoided innocents. He was about to apologize again—surely this was a record number of apologies in one evening for him—when he noticed her smile.
“That’s ever so useful to know! Thank you!” She looked so genuinely pleased with him that something in his chest twinged.
“Happy to help you with any filthy words you might encounter,” Alexander nobly offered, in jest.
“Truly? There is one, actually,” Harriet eagerly replied, glancing down at her wrist. Alexander followed her eyes to her ungloved wrist, which was red. He stepped toward her, closing the distance between them and reaching for her hand. Harriet flinched at the touch, trying to draw her arm back, but not before he saw the wordquimquite clearly written upon her skin.
“What is this?” he demanded, hating how high-handed he sounded. Had he ever scolded a woman before?
“Quim,” Harriet explained, squinting at her own handwriting, then up at him as if concerned for his literacy. “Do you know the word?”
Alexander felt himself in danger of blushing. He had done or witnessed just about every possible act that might call for embarrassment, yet he could not remember a single previous instance of blushing. Never had a woman—nay, any person—made him feel so off-balance. It was as ifhewere the innocent. He gathered himself to his full height, straightened his posture, and cleared his throat, as if to start the whole interaction over.
“I do.”
Christ. That wasnotstarting over.
“And? Its meaning?” she asked, her large gray eyes gazing up at him expectantly. A rather attractive move, he had to admit. Although, was it a move? She hardly seemed the type to employ seductive stratagems.
“I can hardly—” Alexander began.
“We’ve already spoken of bollocks, I hardly imagine this is worse.”
She was correct:Quimwas far better thanbollocks, although not at all in the sense she meant.
“All right, only if you promise not to tell your mother I told you.”
“Worried I’ll ruin your reputation?”
“Worried I’ll ruinyours.”
Something heated flashed between them then, a familiar jolt of shared attraction. This was not the sort of woman with whom one could share such a thing, Alexander knew. But it had been ages since an interaction with anyone had proven this captivating.
“It means … it’s a woman’s … parts,” he explained inelegantly, entirely unused to striving for propriety or circumspection. At her look of confusion he continued, “Her commodity. Her money. Her …” Alexander nodded downward, and the lady’s eyes widened even further.
“Oh! Oh my! This is wonderful,” she said, almost breathlessly.
