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“Yes, well…” Wells cleared his throat and gestured to the man beside him. “Miss Lowther, may I present Lord Tavistoke.”
Tavistoke’s dark eyes twinkled as he swept an elegant bow. “Your most humble and obliging servant. Do call me Percy—I insist.” He leaned a little closer and dropped his voice to an intimate whisper. “I despise formality between friends.”
Careful to keep her face neutral, she answered, “Are we friends, my lord?”
“I certainly hope to make it so, Miss Lowther.”
The warmth in his appraisal was enough to make any woman swoon. Beside her, Adelaide let out an audible sigh. Though Eden refrained from doing the same, her pulse nevertheless jumped.
Here was no dull, ordinary Englishman! She’d be willing to bet bad poetry—or indeed poetry of any kind—had never once crossed his lips while wooing a woman. Exactly how he did court his lovers was something no one in her acquaintance would admit to knowing. If the way he regarded her was any indication of his intent, she was about to solve the mystery firsthand.
A thrill of exhilaration ran through her, only to be snuffed out by suspicion. Tavistoke was not known for seeking introductions to unwed ladies. She looked to Wells, marking the smug gleam in his porcine eyes. He’d set Tavistoke on her as one sets a hound on a fox.
Had she been out of sight she’d have clapped her hands in triumph. If this was his revenge for her refusal of him, she ought to write him a letter of thanks! Her chief desire had just been delivered into her eager hands. She encouraged Tavistoke with her eyes. Ask me to dance…please, please…
“Miss Lowther, may I request the honor of this dance?”
Eden smiled her most beguiling smile and slipped her fingers into his warm, dry, very large palm. A tiny shock raced from the point of contact, streaking up her arm and down into her belly. It was distracting, but not at all unpleasant.
She could hardly believe it. Here she was, Eden Lowther, actually touching the renowned debaucher of femininity that was Lord Tavistoke! Until now she’d been forced to observe him only from afar. Lord above, he’s tall. Though she was not considered short, she wore heeled shoes to enhance her height. The man still towered over her.
As they walked, he talked. “I pity the poor man whose dance I just purloined.”
“I’m sure he’ll manage to console himself,” she said with a laugh. “Gentlemen always do.”
“Rather a cynical remark for one so young, don’t you think?”
“Not at all. I may be young, but I am not entirely ignorant of the world. Gentlemen who pursue me with violent declarations of devotion are often quick to seek solace elsewhere when discouraged.”
“Ah, I see. Tell me, does such discouragement come only after a gentleman has bent his knee?”
His bluntness stole her tongue for a moment. “If you are referring to my refusal of Wells’s offer last Season, know that I made every attempt to dissuade him from developing an ardent attachment.”
“You will forgive me for observing that your method of dissuasion seems somewhat flawed.”
This was not going at all the way she wanted. “Wells made a public declaration witho
ut bothering to first determine whether I returned his…sentiment.” If it could be called that! “His error of haste was no fault of mine.”
His smile was brittle. “Perhaps you ought to be clearer when communicating your feelings to your admirers, thus preventing confusion.”
The tips of her ears grew hot. Cork it, Eden! Do not let him goad you into making a scene. It’s what Wells wants! “Unlike gentlemen, ladies are not afforded the luxury of being direct with or even simply ignoring someone whose attentions we find undesirable. As a lady, I am commanded by etiquette to be sweet and polite in all events, regardless of my likes or dislikes.”
“And what of attention that is desired?” His dark gaze raked over her, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
That’s better. A bit of innuendo to set the stage for a seduction was just what she expected of a man like him. She cast him a saucy glance. “As long as the gentleman pleases me, I shall encourage him.”
“And when he no longer pleases you, you’ll drop him cold? Is that it?”
It was as if someone had poured ice water down her back. What was the matter with him? He was supposed to be smooth and charismatic, not sour and sarcastic!
She looked him squarely in the eye, dropping all pretense. “Don’t let Wells fool you into thinking his heart was in any way wounded by my refusal. The only thing to suffer injury during our brief and unpleasant association was his overweening pride. Because I had refused several offers from men of less lofty rank than his own, he incorrectly assumed a title was what I sought.” Wroth beyond caring, she advanced a step on him. “I would not have cared if the man was a bloody prince,” she hissed. “I still would have refused him.”
The arrogant sneer disappeared from Tavistoke’s face, but he still didn’t back down. “If I may be so bold as to inquire, why did you refuse him and the others?”
He wanted a direct answer? Fine. She would be direct. “Your friend Wells was—is—a pig and a brute. As for the others, quite simply, they were not what I wanted.”
“What quality do you seek, then, that seems to have been absent from not one, but five men?”
