Page 11 of When Dashing Met Danger

“Hmm. Now that I’m thinking about it—” His voice was a low rumble. “My attempt was better than tolerable.”

Lucia tensed. Why did he sound so close?

“Certainly much neater than all of these loose tendrils.” His hand stroked her neck.

“Oh!” Lucia’s eyes shot open, and she jerked around in her chair. He was standing behind her, one hand tracing the hot skin of her neck. His fingers wrapped around a curl.

“All of these tendrils”—his fingers skated along the curve of her jaw, down to the junction of her shoulder—“brushing against your skin.”

Lucia shivered, and when she looked into his face, her breath hitched. His gray eyes were impossibly intense, dark with something she’d not seen before but wanted desperately.

Francesca cleared her throat. “I see. I suppose your meeting isn’t entirely improper being that you are part of the family, Alex. However—”

“My sentiments exactly.” Selbourne dropped his hand and stepped away from Lucia. He popped half a cinnamon tart into his mouth, then winked at her. Lucia blinked. Had she simply imagined the heat that had just passed between them? Hadn’t he felt it, too?

He was at the sideboard again. “Isn’t there any ham? I’m hungry.”

Ham? Ham? Was that all he could think about? She felt like stabbing him with her fork. But when he turned around, met her gaze, all the heat of her anger drained, coiling in her belly.

“I’m starving.”

Lucia had no doubt what he was hungry for. Putting a hand to her stomach to still the fluttering, she watched him. He gave her another of his long, slow perusals, even though he’d promised no more of that last night. Not to mention, Francesca was right there, brow arched, noting everything. But when Lucia’s gaze met his, she forgot all about Francesca, all about her anger. She’d seen appreciation and desire many times in the eyes of other men, but Alex—Selbourne—had never before looked at her with anything more than polite interest.

Until last night. Until now.

Francesca cleared her throat again, and Lucia, mortified, looked away.

Her hands were trembling, and she’d barely managed to steady them when her mother burst through the doorway, holding her bonnet in place over her short blond curls. “Oh, mia cuore!” Her hand flew to her bosom. “Lord Selbourne! You startled me! I had no idea you would be calling this morning. Pray excuse me.” She gave a quick curtsy.

Selbourne inclined his head. “Certainly, madam.” Lady Brigham stilled and stiffened.

“Oh, no,” Lucia moaned, while Francesca shook her head violently.

Signora, Lucia mouthed, hoping Selbourne would see her.

“Scusi?” Lady Brigham said, her voice deceptively sweet.

Alex frowned, then seemed to notice Francesca’s agitated movements. He glanced at Lucia, and she mouthed signora again. He stared for a moment, then scowled. With a look that said he’d exhausted his small portion of patience for the day, he turned back to her mother and said, “Scusi, Lady Brigham, I meant signora.”

Lady Brigham arched a brow but, perhaps reminded of time, turned to her two daughters. “I must be off or I shall be late.” She gave her bonnet one last pat. “Lady Castlereagh has become quite the thing. The connection cannot help but to benefit you girls, especially you, Lucia. I just hope I shall make it through without incident. Your father has insisted I do not speak Italian in young Lady Castlereagh’s presence, and I do not know how I will curb such a natural inclination! Fammi respirare! Apparently Lady Castlereagh does not favor Italian. She thinks it unfashionable.” There was a note of wonder in her voice. “That certainly doesn’t speak highly of her character,” she said with a pointed look at Lord Selbourne.

Lucia hid her smile with her hand.

“But we do what we must.” Lady Brigham sighed, heavy with her motherly duties. “Lucia—”

Lucia straightened, hand back at her side.

“Do not go out this evening without speaking to me first about your attire.” She pointed a white gloved finger at Lucia. “I have a scarlet shawl with Indian fringe that I know will be just the thing to smarten up your new white satin gown with the square neck.” Then to Francesca, “Arrivederci, cara. Ti voglio bene.”

“Arrivederci, Mamma.”

Her mother kissed Francesca on both cheeks, eyed Lucia sternly, then, snatching her reticule from her waiting maid, flew out the door.

Hands in his pockets, Selbourne said, “I get the feeling your mother doesn’t approve of me.”

Lucia snorted and sank back into her chair, hoping she was out of Selbourne’s notice as well.

“Don’t concern yourself, Alex.” Francesca patted his arm. “Mama doesn’t approve of any landed man over twenty-five who hasn’t yet surrendered to the bonds of matrimony. Duty to the members of the fairer sex and all that.”

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