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“A buck? A swell?”

“I’m not assured in my use of town slang, sir, given that I have never traveled to London. Could I mean a Tulip?”

He groaned. “Do you see me in cherry-colored stockings, Lady Henrietta? How can you wound me to the bone in such a fashion?”

She raised one delicate eyebrow. “They do say that selfknowledge is a virtue. You are an Exquisite, are you not?”

Fool for Love

103

“Alas, my shoulders are not sufficiently padded, nor are my heels high enough.”

“How padded are your shoulders?” she asked with some interest, peering at his coat as if it were obvious to all that his physique were not his own.

Darby smiled faintly. “While I would be more than pleased to satisfy your curiosity as to my padding, Lady Henrietta, I fear that your request is rather too intimate given that the gardener might join us at any moment. I assure you that I would never refuse such a request in private.”

She didn’t even blink. “I entirely understand that you feel more comfortable in intimate circles,” she said. Damn it, she made it sound as if he were fit for nothing but bedroom matters. “But I have no great interest in your padding. It was simply a passing fancy. One hears so much about London fribbles, if I may use the word without insulting you, Mr. Darby. And yet one so rarely gets to see a fribble up close.”

She gazed at him rather as if he were a caged lizard with a slightly disgusting skin condition.

Darby felt an inexplicable stab of pleasure. He didn’t know whether her sharp-tongued remarks or her exquisite face appealed to him more. Every time Henrietta lowered her eyes, he almost felt dazzled by the delicate shape of her face and the plump kissability of her lower lip. But then she would look at him and pin him to the board like an insect.

“I assure you that most people approve of my apparel,” he told her. What a dim-witted comment. Damn it, she was close to making him into a stuttering idiot!

She shook her head. “I am no one to judge your clothing.”

She glanced down at her sturdy walking dress. It had a border embroidered with ears of corn. She glanced back up at him, a twinkle in her eye. “Now if you would just put yourself into the hands of Mrs. Pinnock, you might actually gain the label of Tulip.”

104 Eloisa

James

“I shall keep that in mind,” he said gravely. “Is Mrs. Pinnock responsible for your gloves?”

She glanced down, puzzled. “Of course. Mrs. Pinnock is good enough to deliver everything that embellishes a suit of clothing. That way, one needn’t think at all before dressing.”

He shuddered visibly and began peeling the wheatcolored glove off her right hand.

“What are you doing?” Henrietta asked, watching as her hand appeared. “Slope is sure to appear with the gardener in a moment. Although perhaps we should ask him to summon Lady Rawlings first. I can’t imagine that she wishes us to interview her gardener.”

“She asked me to speak to the fellow,” Darby said.

“Meanwhile, I am just checking to make certain that your fingers were not gravely thickened by illness. The shape of your gloves made me concerned for your health.” He caressed one slender finger. “Swollen fingers are indicative of serious illness.”

He was definitely flirting with her. With her, even though she told him flatly that she couldn’t have children. Henrietta didn’t know what to make of it. He stood there before her, large and male and beautiful, holding her bare hand.

“You see,” he said gravely. “Beautiful. Slender fingers—”

He touched her second finger lightly.

“Symmetrical?” she put in, with a lifted eyebrow.

“I think we can agree on that. You wear no rings?”

“I am not very interested in decoration.”

“What a pity,” he said sweetly. “I serve as such lovely decoration, myself.”