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He took her fingers and kissed the very tips. “Yes. I will.”
Elizabeth stared down at her hand. Dear Lord, the man had kissed her again! Right there in the hall. Too stunned to pull her hand back, she looked right and left, terrified that a servant might stumble upon them.
“You had never been kissed before yesterday,” he murmured.
“Of course not!”
“Not even on the hand.” He let her fingers drop, then took her other hand and kissed her knuckles.
“Mr. Siddons!” she gasped. “Are you mad?”
He smiled. “I’m glad you haven’t been kissed before.”
“You are mad. Utterly mad. And,” she added defensively, “of course I’ve been kissed on the hand.”
“Your father doesn’t count.”
More than anything, Elizabeth wanted to find a hole in the ground and jump in it. She felt her cheeks burn, and she knew that she didn’t have to say a word for him to know that he was right. There weren’t very many unmarried men in her little village, and certainly none of them was urbane enough to kiss her on the hand.
“Who are you?” she whispered.
He looked at her oddly, his brown eyes narrowing. “James Siddons. You know that.”
She shook her head. “You’ve never been an estate manager before. I’d bet my life on it.”
“Would you like to see my references?”
“You carry yourself wrong. A servant would—”
“Ah, but I am not precisely a servant,” he interrupted. “As you are not. I understand you’re of the local gentry.”
She nodded.
“Mine is an old family, as well,” he continued. “Our pride, unfortunately, was not lost with our money.”
“Unfortunately?”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “It makes for awkward moments.”
“Like this one,” Elizabeth said firmly. “You must return to the drawing room this instant. Lady Danbury is in there, wondering, I’m sure, why the devil I shut the door, and what we are doing, and while I don’t profess to know your mind, I do not wish to make explanations.”
James just stared at her, wondering why he suddenly felt as if he’d been dressed down by his governess. He grinned. “You’re good at that.”
Elizabeth had managed to take three steps toward the kitchen. She let out a frustrated breath and turned around. “At what?”
“At speaking to a grown man as if he were a child. I feel quite put in my place.”
“You do not,” she retorted, waving her hand toward him. “Just look at you. You don’t look the least bit contrite. You’re grinning like an idiot.”
He cocked his head. “I know.”
Elizabeth threw up her hands. “I have to go.”
“You make me smile.”
His words, soft and intense, stopped her in her tracks.
“Turn around, Elizabeth.”
