Page 64 of Love Wasn’t Built in a Day

She knew she ought to revile him for his wickedness, and yet she found him utterly fascinating.

“Yes, indeed we are. Please send them in, and a tea tray would be most welcome.”

“Certainly, my lady.”

Cilly got to her feet as Howard disappeared, smoothing down her skirts with fingers that seemed suddenly clumsy. She moved the glass doors that led onto the terrace, using her reflection to check that her hair was neat. At least she had worn her primrose gown today. It was one of her most becoming and—and what on earth was she doing?

Resolutely turning her back on her reflection, Cilly sat down, picking up the book Hetty had been reading and opening it at random. She determined to look peaceful and unconcerned by his arrival.

By their arrival.

Mr Bramwell was obviously here to speak to Hetty and had simply brought his brother along so the town gossips could read nothing into it. It had nothing to do with her.

“Lady Cecilia, Lord Rivington and Mr Bramwell.”

Cilly got to her feet and curtsied as the men bowed politely.

“It is good to see you, my Lord Rivington, Mr Bramwell.”

“As it is, you,” Mr Bramwell replied courteously, glancing around the terrace as he spoke.

Cilly noted his crestfallen expression and took pity on him. “My sister is walking in the gardens, Mr Bramwell. Would you care to find her and tell her I have ordered tea for us all.”

His expression relaxed, and he returned a grateful smile. “I would be pleased to do so. If you will excuse me.”

It was only as he left it occurred to Cilly with some force—she must now entertain the viscount.

Alone.

She turned back to him with a hesitant smile. He did not return the expression, studying her with unreadable blue-grey eyes that were both cool and appraising.

Unsettled, Cilly returned to her seat and spent too long arranging her skirts to avoid meeting his gaze again.

“It seems we owe you an apology, my lady, or possibly several.”

Cilly looked up, an odd prickling sensation shivering over her skin as she read the devilry in his eyes. His lips curved in a smile that was pure sin and she wondered what that sensuous mouth was capable of. Realising she was staring—at his mouth—she forced herself to look away. Anxiety was a flurry of butterfly wings in her stomach. Surely, he would not refer to the scene he’d made on the beach?

“Please do not concern yourself. My sister and I are not so sheltered as all that. We have seen our brother a—a little worse for drink before now. I promise you it did not shock us.”

“Did it not?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her. “And what does shock you, Lady Cecilia?”

Cilly felt heat bloom in her cheeks, and—if she were perfectly honest—in other places that had no business behaving so improperly. She cleared her throat.

“Have you seen the gardens here, my lord? They are very fine. The dowager is very fond of roses.”

He sat back with a little huff of laughter and Cilly had the disquieting notion she had disappointed him. Though she told herself not to be such a ninny, she didn’t like it.

She sat, simmering for a moment, before replying to the question he had really asked.

“If you mean, was I shocked to see you and your brother making spectacles of yourselves on the beach—No. I was not. We have dozens of little boy cousins who delight in making the ladies scream by waving their privates about. It is nothing remarkable, I assure you.”

Cilly experienced a little surge of triumph as she delivered this rejoinder with a cool, detached air that her grandmama would have applauded. Yes, her cheeks were burning, but there was nothing she could do about that.

A slow, sinful smile curved over his mouth as he spread his arms across the back of the settee he sat upon, lounging in an indolent sprawl. Cilly’s heart kicked in her chest.

“I… am not one of your little boy cousins,” he said idly, never taking his eyes from her.

Cilly swallowed. Oh, no, he wasn’t. To her chagrin, the image of him standing on the rocks, naked and dripping wet, the sun gleaming on his broad, muscular physique, came vividly to life in her mind’s eye.