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“Is that so?” His fingers tightened around her wrists. It was a good thing that the lighting was so dim because the position stretched her breasts over her corset until her nipples were nearly visible. Nipples which were embarrassingly hard, as if it was snowing out and not a mild summer evening.
He glanced at her breasts, his gaze like hot candle wax searing her skin. If he touched her skin it would be hot, like the barrel of a pistol after being discharged.
“I’m fearless and worldly and sophisticated,” Mina insisted. “I don’t even care that you saw me in my shift.”
“Yes you do. You were blushing.”
“It’s too dark for you to tell.”
“You’re only pretending to be a sophisticated London lady, MissPenny.” He touched the edge of her bodice with his free hand. “This gown doesn’t suit you, and I think you know it. Why change into it?”
Maybe she was still an awkward, country-bred hoyden. Maybe she wasn’t worldly yet, but she had to pretend to be—for Lord Rafe.
Blast. She’d forgotten about him again. How much time had passed?
“This may be my very first ball, but I’m a woman of the world. I have a proposition for someone and this is the right costume,” she said.
“A proposition. Am I to understand that you are planning your ruin?” he asked, his voice husky, as though he might volunteer for the job.
She shivered. Her eyes closed.
She might want to hire him.
Focus, Mina.
“Not a carnal proposition, a business one,” she said tartly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She made another attempt at freeing herself.
“I’ll let you go now, MissPenny.” He released her wrists and stepped away. “Since you have an assignation to keep.”
She lowered her arms.
He stooped down and when he rose her pistol lay in the palm of his hand. “I believe this is yours.”
“Aren’t you afraid to give it back to me?”
“You wouldn’t shoot a duke at his own ball. Bad for a lady’s reputation.”
She accepted the pistol and stuffed it into her reticule.
“And now I’ll make myself presentable and leave the garden shed to you, MissPenny.” He began fumbling with his cravat.
It must be late. Nearly time for Lord Rafe and his friends to make their entrance. She’d be watching from the gardens and when he entered, she’d meet him halfway.
Grizzy would be livid, but there wouldn’t be anything she could do about it.
They’d have to elope to Gretna Green to be married, since her uncle would never consent to the union. He’d never allow her to marry one of his spies, especially one who’d disgraced himself and was currently out of Sir Malcolm’s favor.
The duke was still attempting to retie his cravat into something resembling a fashionable knot. The sight was somehow endearing.
“You’ve no idea how to tie that, do you?” she observed.
“Not a clue.” He tied the ends into a large bow directly under his chin. “How does this look?”
“Dreadful.” She squelched a giggle. “Your valet will murder you.”
The duke undid the bow and started over again. “Cursed cloth.”
“You’re doing it all wrong.”
