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The Countess rambled for some time about how lovely it was to see Duke, forcing Roman to remain stiffly on the edge of the little group they’d formed, noting he was not welcomed into the fold in quite the same manner. Despite the warmth in her face, the Countess likely also blamed Roman for her son’s failure to hold his drink.
“Do you enjoy Sir Teddy’s work?” Duke asked Lady Clementine.
“I’m here because Ivy wished me to accompany her.”
Ivy stared at the paving stones. “I believe in the value of all written word, even if not considered eminently intellectual.”
Roman missed Duke’s response, drowned out by the sudden screech of a woman behind him. Like a wave in the ocean, the sound rippled through the female members of the crowd hustling to get into the building and Roman found himself shoved sideways by some decidedly strong and determined young women as they surged toward the assembly room. In his bid to remain upright, his hand met something soft.
Soft, and decidedly feminine. Inappropriately feminine. He met Lady Clementine’s gaze the moment his hand landed upon the curve of her breast. His hand shot back before he’d considered the action, as though he’d put his hand into the depths of a raging fire. Too late. They were both aware of the burning touch.
She should be scolding him or turning swiftly away and pretending it never happened like a good young lady. Lady Clementine was no good young lady, it seemed. Her lips parted and he saw her throat bob. It was the briefest of accidental grazes. Something to apologize over to be certain but surely she could not be feeling anything other than annoyance toward him? It seemed her modus operandi, after all.
Instead of shooting him a narrowed look, however, her lips parted, and he saw her throat swallow, making the delicate pearls at her neck shift. An astonishingly elegant neck.
Good lord, what was wrong with him? One touch of a breast and he was considering Lady Clementine elegant. With a lineage as short as his stout butler Adams, and unusual parents determined to raise their daughters to be unusual, any elegance within the family didn’t amount to much. A pale neck enhanced by red curls that fluttered against her skin every time a carriage rolled past should not be drawing his attention.
Truth be told, it didn’t hold it for long. The tingling in his hand was quite the distraction. Clearly it had been too long since he’d been with a woman. One touch of a breast through a gown and his mind cavorted to the oddest places, skipping from necks to lips, back down to breasts. Well, breasts were a natural place for a man’s thoughts to linger but he didnotwish to linger on Lady Clementine’s.
When he finally dragged his gaze back to hers, her pupils were dark, her eyes wide. Had she caught her perusal of her? Realized the scandalous thoughts which had skipped through his mind? Understood his glances meant he was mentally stripping back the creamy muslin and tugging down her undergarments to discover how far the freckles scattered across her skin travelled?
Damn it.
Lady Clementine was many things—unusual, far too bold, and not nearly as well-bred as an earl’s daughter should be—but she was no fool, even if she was an innocent. She’d figured him out and now they were frozen, both aware of what a base simpleton he was.
Another squeal from behind him shattered the moment. The sound reached such a high pitch this time, he half-expected the windows of the assembly hall to splinter. He winced and glanced at the two young women shoving through the crowd.
“He’s here,” one of them exclaimed. “I just saw him.”
“He’s even more handsome than the papers depicted!” enthused the other.
“Have you not heard?” Lady Clementine said with a roll of her eyes. “Sir Teddy is incredibly handsome.”
Roman rose briefly on his toes to spot a glimpse of the author through the open doors as the man battled the crowds of salivating young women to reach the front of the room. Roman knew little of the author and realized he should have followed his instincts and opted out of this farce. What did he know of books anyway? The damned things never played nicely with him.
But Duke had insisted Roman accompany him before they talked over this Aunt Mary business. Something about getting Roman out in the fresh air. As near as Roman could tell, there was no fresh air to be had in the crowded assembly hall. Could Duke not be a damned recluse for a change? One glance at his friend told him Duke had figured there would be plenty of young women in attendance at this event, hence his enthusiasm.
“Is he?” Roman muttered.
“Do not tell me you are one of those men who pretend they cannot see the virtues of their own sex.” Her lips quirked and he regretted looking at them.
Did so much of her have to be soft and inviting? Could her body not match her brash personality and be done with it? The dratted tingling in his fingers still had not abated.
“The top of his head looks acceptable I suppose.”
“I think these women find him more than acceptable.”
And you?he wanted to ask. Did she find him more than acceptable? He closed his eyes briefly, resisting the need to pinch away the headache forming behind his eyes. He shouldn’t care who she found handsome and who she did not, and he most certainly should not be feeling some strange tightness in his chest at the idea of her swooning along with these young ladies over a man. Whom Lady Clementine did or did not swoon over was none of his business.
“Shall we go in?” suggested Duke. “I believe the sea of admirers has ebbed a little.”
Roman released a lengthy breath. “Yes, let’s.” And with any luck he’d find a seat far, far away from Lady Clementine.
Chapter Eight
Clementine should have anticipated this.
The front seats were all taken up with Sir Teddy’s admirers, leaving the back rows free for the less enthusiastic or those here for the actual information contained in his book – presuming that there was any. But as she glanced over the wooden chairs that were probably once neatly laid out in rows but now sat at funny angles after the barrage of young women surging through, she realized there were no groups of three.
