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And she’d come over here sure to end their acquaintance forever. Her stomach dropped as she realized that she had come for no reason other than to make a false accusation. She’d entered into a wager, and he appeared to be holding his end of the bet. “I…I really can’t. I must meet my mother. I just came in to…” To what? What did she say—prove what a cad he was?
“Catch me. I know.” He gave her a wink then and Lord Smith cleared his throat.
“A pleasure to see you again, Miss Blake.” Lord Smith’s thick brows arched in question as he looked between the two of them.
“And you, my lord.” She curtseyed to the other man, heat filling her cheeks.
“Please. Sit,” Somersworth said. “Have a bit of tea to warm you and then I shall walk to whatever shop your mother is currently in.”
She let out a sigh. There was nothing to do but concede.
CHAPTER FOUR
Color flushed Red’s cheeks, her green eyes sparkling as she glared at him. He poured her tea, chuckling inwardly.
He’d have liked to laugh long and loud. He’d noted at dinner last night that she was the picture of a demure lady with her mother and her uncle, but here with him, she looked as though she could spit fire. He loved the heat and energy in her gaze.
Tea poured, he watched her take a delicate sip, silence stretching out between them all. Finally, Rush spoke, perhaps wishing to break the awkward silence that had settled between them. “It’s good to see you, Miss Blake. How long has it been? Since Emma and Triston’s wedding?”
“I think, yes,” she answered, her gaze cast down. “And it’s good to see you too.” Once again, silence fell.
“Have you been enjoying preparations for the season?” Rush asked, seeming to search for conversation.
“I am,” she answered, delicately taking a sip of tea, eyes still down.
Rush looked at him, lifting a shoulder as he gave a one-sided frown. Had he hoped to start a conversation with Red? She’d gone quiet again, and Ethan wondered at the change.
Instead of speaking to her again, Rush said to him, “Miss Blake’s family hosts a soirée every fall that is considered the event of the season.”
Ethan loved a good party. And he realized he’d very much like to see Red in a ballgown. But the idea of crowds, cards, and liquor didn’t appeal nearly as much as the idea of pulling this woman close. How would she smell? Feel in his arms?
He gave himself a mental shake. This was not about actual courting. It was meant to be an act that benefitted them both. Though Red did not seem all that interested in anything from him. Even if he won the wager, which he intended to do, she didn’t seem that keen on spending time with him. But what did she want that she’d proposed her wager? “A soirée sounds delightful,” he said. “You must invite me next year.”
Her answering smile was polite but distant as she said, “I’m sure my mother has already added you to the list.” And then the smile slipped. “But I’m not certain the event will happen.”
Rush gave her an inquisitive stare. “But it’s been a family tradition for years.”
She took another slow sip of tea. “My uncle is the viscount now, what remains a tradition is his choice.”
Uncles… Something tightened in his chest and the tension suddenly pulled at her mouth. He wanted to know more as he fought down the distinct urge to protect this woman. Taking a final sip of her tea, she gave him a bland smile. “I’m ready when you are, my lord.”
With a quick nod, he rose, helping her from the chair and threading her hand through his arm. The moment they left Rush, the question he’d wanted to ask popped from his lips. “Why do I sense tension where your uncle is concerned?”
She shook her head. “No tension. Truly, he’s been rather kind and patient, especially with my mother, though they don’t get along very well. But he’s tired of having her about and they’ve both agreed that—”
She stopped, though her hand tightened on his arm. His brows lifted as he asked, “What have they agreed?”
Ever truthful, the details of her mother’s wish for her to wed rose to her lips but she pushed them back down. Even handsome and interesting Somersworth seemed able to disarm her with a single glance, steal her breath with the slightest touch. What was wrong with her?
Somersworth was not the man for her, and so she’d not tell him that her mother would wed her to any decent title with money. “That I will have my first season this year. I’ll be going to London in just a few short weeks.”
“You’ll be in London in a few weeks?” he asked, his mouth turning down into a frown.
What did his response mean? “Of course,” she said, deciding it didn’t matter. “My sister is wed and so this year I shall be introduced into society.”
“Now tell me. What’s your sister like now that she’s married a Smith? And can I just say, I’m impressed. I thought your mother the sort that would be actively seeking a well-positioned lord.”
“You thought correct. But Emma…” How did she explain? “My sister is an awful lot like you, though in a much more wholesome package.”
