Page 6 of Sins of an Intoxicating Duchess

Jasper felt as though he’d been struck by lightning. He reached out for her hand, feeling electricity shoot through him. It was like she’d stepped out of a painting—she looked like one of Titian’s angels.

“Lady Selina,” he murmured, leaning to brush his lips chastely over the soft gloves that covered her knuckles. He kept his eyes on hers. They were hazel, green with a touch of honey. He watched a blush form on her cheeks. He now knew why Leah had been upset at her arrival. She was a lady who commanded attention.

“Pleased to meet you,” she replied, smiling kindly. Her hair was golden, a few curls framing her face. He straightened, reluctantly letting go of her hand. She was the picture of perfection. She took his breath away.

I must speak with her.

“I must go and greet Lady Mortimer,” Lady Leah said, looking at him. “Will you entertain my cousin while I do? She knows no one here.”

“You don’t have to,” Lady Selina said softly as Lady Leah moved through the sparse crowd.

“It’s all right,” he said, offering her his arm. “Come. I will show you our gardens.” There was a pause. He felt his heart, skip a beat. “They’re the talk of the county,” he said. “I must insist.”

“Don’t you have guests to welcome?” she asked.

“It’s as much my mother’s home as it is mine,” he insisted.

“Your Grace,” Lady Selina replied. “I haven’t got a chaperone—my aunt and uncle have not yet arrived.”

“Then we’ll stand on the terrace,” he said. “In full view of the entire party.”

“Very well,” she said, at last, she glanced backward. He looked around, finding that Lady Leah had vanished. He spotted her talking to Lady Mortimer over by the front door.

* * *

Selina’s hand was tucked in the crook of his arm. Her pulse was racing. Her skin tingled at his touch, even through the fabric of her gloves. Her whole body felt suffused with warmth at his interest in her.

“Will you be visiting us long?” he asked as they walked out and onto the terrace, which overlooked the gardens. Some long-ago ancestor of his had put in a stone path, which traveled through the perfectly-manicured shrubs, making several neat loops.

“Until the summer,” she murmured as they stood, looking out over the impressive gardens. There were a few people, promenading in pairs along the paths, and they were, by no means, alone. From where she stood, Selina could see into the ballroom. “I’m to meet my parents in London, upon their return from Paris.”

“London? In the summer?” He looked at her incredulously.

“Yes. For a week or two,” she explained, letting go of his arm to lean her hands on the balustrade. “And then it will be back to our county seat in Hertfordshire until the Season starts.” She glanced away from him, to look at the staircase, which led down.

“Ah,” he said. “I never much cared for the Season.”

“Why is that?” she asked, waving to an elderly couple as they passed them on their way out into the garden.

“All of the people, vying for attention,” he said.

“You don’t like attention?” she asked, turning her gaze to him.

“No. It’s different—it’s posturing. I much prefer honest conversation,” he said. She studied him curiously. Those green eyes were arresting. He was not at all what she’d imagined.

“What, pray tell, does honest conversation entail?” she asked, finding herself interested. He was handsome, certainly. But she’d never lost her head over a gentleman before, mainly because most gentlemen were after her fortune or entranced by her beauty. She’d always been looking for someone who could share a conversation. Someone interesting, but everyone always turned out to be the same.

This—this was different. She found herself gazing at his lips—they were well-shaped, masculine—smiling at her. She raised her eyes to meet his.

“Well, both conversationalists must be talking about subjects on which they are genuinely interested in, preferably not themselves and their titles or inheritance.”

“You’d lose over half theton,” she said. They both laughed. “What should our conversation be about?” She was dying to know.

“Love,” he said.

“Love? What about it?” She had to admit, she was disappointed. The smile fell from her face. Here he was, trying to flirt with her! Her own cousin’s husband-to-be!

“It is an engagement party,” he reminded her, a touch morosely.

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