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Boxby grimaced. He’d been found out. “Mirabelle is interesting, I’ll grant her that. She caught me in a wager too. I’m to give her a dance lesson tomorrow.”
“What?” Upton rumbled, cocking his head to the side. “She looks like the picture of propriety and innocence, but then again, she is a Smith.”
His thoughts exactly.
“I like dark-haired girls myself,” Somersworth said, running a hand through his blond hair. “I’ll give her a lesson.”
Boxby’s chest swelled again, irritation singing in his veins. “No.” He hadn’t meant the single word to be so harsh or so blunt. He should explain. The Smiths were important to him, as was the club he’d bought into. And that gaming hell was his greatest act of rebellion in a life of duty. But he knew that wasn’t why he’d grown angry.
Somersworth was a rake. He loved the man like a brother, but he’d not let Somersworth near any woman he cared about. Ever.
Not that he cared about Mirabelle. That was ridiculous. But as the sister of the Smiths, he couldn’t allow Somersworth to spoil their relationship with the family. At least, that’s what he told himself.
Upton cleared his throat, his brows lifting.
“Calm yourself, my friend. I meant no offense,” Somersworth said with an easy tone that made Ken relax.
He drew in a deep breath, knowing his friend spoke the truth. It was how Somersworth always talked. He spoke the language ofrake. “I know that.”
“Then you also know that you ought to be careful. Mirabelle is dangerous.”
He’d thought the same. “Explain why.”
Somersworth shook his head. “She looks like a debutante. Despite the dark hair, her face is near angelic. But underneath that is a girl who grew up without all the finery, the trappings, the protection. She knows far more about life than even me, I’d wager, and she won’t be afraid to use that information to get what she wants.”
“How could you know all that?” Boxby asked with a frown. Somersworth had a colorful past, that he knew. But he didn’t know Mirabelle, did he? Another wave of dark irritation passed over him and he flexed his shoulders back, staring at his friend with barely veiled hostility.
Somersworth shook his head. “It shines in her eyes. The younger one, Anna, is more innocent. But Mirabelle, she’s seen the gritty side of the world. Trust me.” And then his friend shuttered his gaze and looked away.
But Ken hardly noticed as he looked back at Emily and Mirabelle. Was that true? And if it was, why didn’t he feel the least bit deterred? In fact, if he were honest, this need swelled in his chest.
A desire to protect her and also, a wish to understand what it was she knew about the world that he’d never experienced.
She was a delightful mystery, her life so different from his own. But if he asked, would she know what he’d been missing? Would she understand why he wished to journey to faraway lands and what he would find if he did?
CHAPTERFOUR
Mirabelle tappedher toe as she waited for Lord Boxby, morning sun streaming into the music room.
In the corner, a violinist sat ready to add music to their lesson. The beauty of being rich like Boxby was that nearly everyone was at their beck and call. She shook her head. Not only had it been easy to find someone to play at the last moment, the man had practically jumped at the chance to prove his skill to the baron.
In the other corner, a maid sat discreetly working on some embroidery. While she’d not informed her brothers of this tête-à-tête, she’d also not give them any reason to abuse the baron.
This was the world that she wished to partake in, with all its glitter and shine. The women of this world would accept her, and then…when she knew she was enough, she’d marry. A man of good standing who could help to elevate her family.
She drew in a deep breath. She’d have her choice. She’d be the woman that other ladies wished to be friends with and then she knew she’d be enough to enter this world without worry of making a fool of her husband.
The door softly opened and she pivoted about. Boxby stood in the entrance, looking fresh and exceedingly handsome as he walked into the room, leaving the door open.
“Good morning,” he said, giving her an easy smile and a quick bow.
“My lord,” she replied, dipping down into a curtsey even as her pulse began to thrum in her ears. It was happening, the first step to proving she was something more than just the bastard who’d grown up on the wrong side of London.
“You have music even?” Boxby strode toward her with that unhurried confidence that somehow made her heart beat even faster.
“How can we dance without it?” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as her fingers plucked at her skirts. Why had she become so nervous? It was always this way with her. She knew Boxby, she’d even verbally sparred with him. And in those activities, she was confident. But put her in theton’sworld, and she was seized with awkwardness.
One of his brows lifted. “It can be done.”
