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He dipped his head slightly, his eyes searching her face. “Somehow, I believe you are,” he murmured. “It is your eyes, you see.”
She pressed a hand to her throat. “My eyes?” she asked, feeling foolish.
Clearly, he jested with her, even though she did not understand it.
“Hmm,” he said, “your eyes.”
“What about my eyes,” she asked when he said no more.
“They are quite lovely.”
Oh!The casual compliment startled her.
Before she could reply, he continued, “They burn deep and golden with an inner fire that hints of your intelligence and wit. It also shows your craftiness as you draw it back lest you make the mistake of standing out too much beyond your…consequences.”
Felicity lightly laughed, almost at a loss of how to respond. “My good sir, they are brown.” A very plain brown too, for the man she had once thought to marry said he wished her not quite so ordinary.
Her heart squeezing, she felt an odd sense of fascination stirring in her chest for this stranger. Perhaps the brandy she had helped Perdie pilfer last night still lingered within Felicity’s blood. Without answering him and feeling as if she owed him no courtesy, she turned away from him and continued toward the duke’s townhouse.
People generally did not see her. Even infinitesimally. Why would he even say something so foolish yet intricate to the heart of her personality? Casting him a sidelong glance, she noted he merely stared straight ahead, holding the umbrella high, protecting her from the still sleeting rain. She glanced behind her and noted a carriage parked near a gas lamp post. Clearly he had descended the depths of the equipage to render her aid.
“You stopped your carriage to assist me?”
“Yes. Would you like to ride home instead of walking?”
“No,” she gasped out. “I daresay no lady would get into the vehicle of a strange man. Even if it is pouring torrential rain.”
“As I suspected,” he said with a hint of a smile.
A warm feeling unfurled through her body. She was tempted to be rude and ask his name, curious to see which gentleman would not think it beneath him to escort a servant home. Something stirred beneath his jacket, and this time, Felicity almost fainted when the oddest creature slinked from his jacket and curled itself atop his left shoulder.
“You have a rat on you, Sir.”Yes, it must still be the brandy.
An odd sound came from the creature. A tiny chittering noise.
“Oskar is not a rat. You offended him.”
The creature made the sound once more, and she bit back her smile. “Please convey my apologies.”
She felt her rescuer’s stare as it landed on her face, but she did not turn to consider that regard, somehow uncomfortable with facing it directly. Felicity did not like the strange feelings the touch of his eyes on her evoked.I must be developing a fever from exposure.
“Oskar is a ferret.”
“A ferret,” she said slowly, wondering at the nature of her conversation with this unknown gentleman.
“Yes.”
“An odd companion for a gentleman,” she said.
“At first, he belonged to my sister, Mary, a gift from her husband because he knew his wife greatly admired Queen Elizabeth I who also had a pet ferret.”
Curiosity bit at Felicity. “Then how did…Oskar end up with you?”
“My sister was deathly afraid of him. Always running about and screeching.”
Felicity laughed at the image that came to mind but quickly sobered.
“Oskar and I understand each other and have become fast friends,” he said, his tone rich with amused indulgence.
