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How clever.
The rest of the embroidery was hidden from her eyes. Granby didn’t so much as move an inch, almost as if he knew he was ruining things for her. Her sketches had to be conducted with the utmost discretion, unseen by those she observed, else her hobby would become fodder for the gossips. And she was nearly out of time. Her mother and their friend, Miss Lainscott, would soon wonder where Romy had gotten off to.
Granby turned slightly, giving Romy an unobstructed view of his striking, almost savagely carved profile. Bold slashes of cheek and brow, with not so much as a hint of patrician refinement met her eye. His hair, the exact color of a raven’s wing, sparked with blue-black highlights where the sun touched the dark strands, as it did when one thick wave fell over his eye only to be pushed absently away.
The coat is too short. The hair, too long.
Another bit of Granby to puzzle over.
There was a roughness to this duke, as if he’d be more at home in a boxing ring than at Lady Masterson’s party. Romy sensed there was something else lurking beneath the rigid, stiff manner, a wildness Granby was desperately trying to contain within the cool detachment he presented.
The allure Granby held for her swirled around her ankles like a small hurricane. She wiggled a foot, trying to shake it off.
A gentleman approached from across the lawn, and Granby tilted his chin in greeting, the scowl so often gracing his lips softening.
“Gran. I wasn’t expecting to see you at Lady Masterson’s.”
“Why not?” The words came from Granby. “I received an invitation.”
“Garden parties aren’t typically the type of amusement you seek.” Granby’s friend was carelessly attractive, with hair of burnished gold and twinkling blue eyes. “All this sunlight might give you a hint of color. You should be careful. Someone may mistake you for being human.” A grin lit across his face.
The man’s name popped into Romy’s head.The Earl of Blythe.
Blythe had lately become the focus of her younger sister’s attention. Theo had spotted the attractive earl in the park several weeks ago and now spoke of him constantly in glowing terms. Highly unusual given Theo rarely cared for anything other than the painting of her miniatures. Romy doubted Blythe had any idea of Theo’s interest as, to Romy’s knowledge, the two had never been introduced. Theo wasn’t out yet. And Blythe was a notorious rake.
Neither of those facts dampened Theo’s interest in him one bit.
“My amusement,” Granby replied, “is in seeing all the idiots who have bowed to Lady Masterson’s wishes and garbed themselves as stags.” Granby nodded in the direction of Lord Carstairs who was stumbling about with antlers strapped to his head. “I’m constantly surprised Carstairs hasn’t managed to shoot himself while on one of his many hunting trips. Virtually a miracle.”
Romy covered her mouth to keep from laughing. Tony was friends with Carstairs and often said the same about his friend.
“But youarein costume, Gran, aren’t you? Let me guess—a blackbird?” Blythe gestured to Granby’s somber attire. “Perhaps a raven.” Blythe taunted with a laugh, showing an even row of white teeth. “An overly large one.”
No wonder Theo is enamored. Blythe is spectacular.
But Blythe, despite his golden masculine beauty, didn’t draw Romy’s eye.
“Bugger off, Blythe. Not all of us care to prance about like dandies seeking to ruin any young lady we come across.” Granby had a lovely voice. Low and rumbling, laced with delicious undertones of caramel.
The sound was mildly intoxicating, as evidenced by the way her toes curled inside her slippers.
“You make me sound quite immoral.” Blythe placed a gloved hand on his chest as if shocked by Granby’s appraisal. “I don’t take liberties witheverygirl whom I happen upon.” He dipped to peer around Granby, piercing Romy with a look. “For instance, the young lady who is eavesdropping on us right now. I’ve not so much as even made an improper comment to her. Yet.”
Bollocks.
Granby turned around, fixing her with a disdainful glare. His eyes were so dark, they resembled bits of obsidian, flat and cold with absolutely no warmth.
“Come out,” he growled. “If you please.”
This was bound to be unpleasant. She’d only been sketching. The eavesdropping had been entirely accidental. It was doubtful, based on the chilliness with which he regarded her, that Granby would see it that way.
Romy stepped out from the safety of the tree trunk a step, careful to keep herself beneath the shadow of the canopy of leaves above her, hoping to keep her features in shadow.
“Your Grace.” She dipped gracefully to Granby. “Lord Blythe.”
Blythe raised a brow, the grin splitting his lips stretching further. “I fear you have me at a disadvantage, my lady, for I don’t believe we’ve ever met.”
“Nor I,” Granby murmured, dark eyes never leaving her face.
