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The next night, Natalie sat across the table from the Earl of Somersworth, relieved that he looked a bit more neatly kept this evening. His hair was pushed back, his skin less sallow. His gaze was a bit blurry, but still, he gave her an easy smile as he took a sip of his wine. She didn’t smile back.
“Natalie,” her mother said from the end of the table, “you must play the pianoforte after dinner.”
She dipped her chin in agreement without speaking a word. She was quiet by nature, and her mother was doing plenty of talking.
“She’s a lovely dancer as well, my lord. It’s a shame Emma’s not here to play so that you and Natalie might dance.”
“Shame,” Somersworth murmured in agreement, his growing smile only partially masked by his glass.
She cast her gaze down, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. Must her family be so obvious? For the past hour, they’d been touting Natalie’s accomplishments one after the other. She was sick of hearing about herself, and Somersworth surely had lost any interest he might have had.
Not that she was interested in him, either. Awful man…but still…
Her family was likely to frighten off a real suitor with this sort of behavior.
And didn’t her mother realize Somersworth wasn’t the sort of man who wished for a woman who could embroider? She didn’t have much experience with the world, but even she sensed that. He’d want a lady who might be troublesome with him.
She cocked her head to the side, knowing that she did not fit that score at all. But then again, if a woman ever wanted to give trouble a try, this might be just the man to help her.
“Dinner was wonderful,” Somersworth said as he leaned back in his chair. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” her mother said, rising. “The night is not so cold tonight. Perhaps you’d like a walk along the lawn to help you digest.”
Natalie blinked several times. It was near freezing outside and she knew very well that her mother meant for her to lead Somersworth on that walk. Wide windows would keep them in view of her mother and uncle, but still, they’d not be able to hear a word that passed between her and the earl.
“A walk sounds perfect,” Somersworth said, then gave her another grin, looking like the cat who’d gotten the milk.
Her shoulders straightened as she rose. “I’ll get my pelisse. My lord, should I fetch your coat as well?”
“Yes please,” he said, truly sounding pleased.
Had her mother and uncle not frightened him away? Doing so herself was not a task she was used to. But she knew without a doubt that he was not the man for her.
Certainly, he was handsome. And interesting. And he was just bad enough that he might make a fine friend to help her explore all the things she’d always wished to, but she’d not marry this man.
At her core, Natalie was too…well behaved for him. He’d turn her into minced pie. She was too docile, and she suspected that he was too wild.
Pelisse on, she took his arm, a strange energy moving through her as they walked toward the doors and stepped outside. The night air was cold, but they were blocked from the wind, tucked against the house, and the moon lit the night.
She drew in a deep breath as she tried to decide what to ask Lord Somersworth, how she proceeded. How did one frighten away a man who lived on the edge of danger?
But she didn’t have the chance. “You are truly lovely,” he murmured close to her ear. “I suspected as much yesterday when we met, but in the dress you’re wearing this evening…”
His eyes moved down her, as though he remembered her gown that was now covered by her pelisse. Which confirmed several of her suspicions. A gentleman would not discuss her attire or her figure in such a manner. “And you are as devilish as I suspected.”
He flashed her a playful grin, the sort that might melt a woman’s insides. “So you’re not the mouse you played at dinner tonight.”
Mouse? How insulting. And possibly true. “I suspect I am the mouse actually, but I’ve also been cornered by the cat.”
He laughed. “So true.” And then, with a quick glance back through the windows, he reached up his free hand and brushed a softly blowing lock of her hair back from her face. She stilled at his touch, mesmerized by the gentle brush of his fingers. She knew she didn’t want this man, but hands like that might just make a lady forget… “But shall I confess to you that my intentions are honorable?”
“I don’t—” She didn’t believe a word, but how to say that without insulting him?
“I assure you, my lady. They are.”
Honorable? Him? “All outward appearances would suggest otherwise.”
He laughed again. “Most women would disagree. Swarms of them would twist themselves into knots to be out here with me.”
