Page 24 of My Best Friend's Earl
Caro canted her head, studying her. “What is it you find so appealing about this man? If we introduced you to someone else with those qualities, we might give you a quick escape from this discomfort.”
Constance grinned. “I do love how we’re speaking of him as if he’s a blister. If only I could place a plaster over this attraction and ignore it until it’s gone.”
The question of what she found appealing about Southwyn wasn’t one she needed to ponder for long. A warmth began in her chest, warning of how dangerous it could be to speak his virtues aloud, even as she did exactly that. “Iknow it sounds silly, but when he’s messy and unbathed, he smells nice. I want to bury my face in the side of his neck and see where the scent is strongest.” Like citrus and herbs, his cologne brought to mind drinking lemonade in an herb garden on a warm day. “When he’s not wearing a cravat, there are a few hairs that curl up into that notch at the base of his throat. For some reason, I find those hairs fascinating.” She swallowed a mouthful of tea, relishing the comfort of its heat traveling to her belly. “Also, when he’s swearing, he makes me laugh. It’s like a window into the realest part of him. Getting a peek at the emotions beneath the logic.” Her cousins wore expressions she couldn’t decipher.
Hattie raised a brow. “When have you seen him in his shirtsleeves, without a cravat?”
“You like the way he curses?” Caro asked, equally bewildered.
Constance grinned. “I realize it’s not an attribute we usually value in a man, but he truly has the most creative language. As to his state of undress, that’s a long story. Nothing untoward happened, though.”
The duchess studied her in a way Connie recognized all too well.
“Caro, you’re looking at me like I’m a misbehaving character, or troublesome plot device in one of your books. If you need something to entertain you, perhaps we could choose a date for that small dinner party you agreed to host.”
Caro conceded the point with a shrug. “I simply find all this fascinating. That’s all. And thank you for the reminder. I’d forgotten.”
Constance didn’t believe her. Judging by her carefully bland manner, Hattie didn’t either. If they knew Caro—and they did—she’d treat this like a character exercise until it made sense. Unfortunately, there was no making sense ofConstance’s hopeless attraction to a man so far beyond her status as to be laughable. Especially when she refused to divulge his identity.
Hattie spoke. “What you’re saying is, all we need to do is visit the docks, find a foul-mouthed fellow in need of some soap, and you’ll be right as rain. Then you can bring him to Caro’s dinner and we will all toast the beginning of your relationship and the end of Althea’s.”
Constance choked on the sip of tea she’d been swallowing and coughed out a sound somewhere between a wheeze and a laugh. It faded swiftly to silence when Dorian entered the room, followed closely by Lord Southwyn.
Chapter Ten
Act nonchalant in his presence
Dinner party at Caro’s! Don’t forget
Althea: act intoxicated, flirt with the footman
Honor dictates I keep my word—” Lord Southwyn was saying.
“Honor is a cold bedfellow. Let others suffer the consequences of their actions for once, Oliver.” Dorian spied his wife, and such clear affection lit his eyes, it nearly hurt to watch. “There you are, love.” He glanced around. “Ladies, I didn’t know you were here. Good to see you, of course.” Surveying the nearly decimated tea cart, he grinned. “I intended to make sure Caro ate something. If she goes too long between meals, she feels unwell. I see you have the matter well in hand.”
“Meaning I vomit into random vases, because this child is determined to make me uncomfortable until the very last second,” Caro explained cheerfully. “That lovely soup tureen I liked so much will never be the same, I fear.” To her husband, she said, “My girls are keeping me company, lest I grow too bored. Cook has me well-fed. Don’t worry so much.”
Dorian shook his head. “Impossible. It’s my responsibilityand privilege to worry over you. I’m sure it was somewhere in the marriage contract.” He dropped a kiss on her mouth, then sat beside her.
Constance envied the adoring way the duke teased his wife. When Dorian had been no more than a customer in their bookstore, she’d thought him handsome, if sad. The thick melancholy he’d worn like a cloak back then always made her want to pat him on the head like a child, then offer treats until his outlook brightened.
She peeked at Lord Southwyn, only to catch him looking back at her. They stared for a moment, and something shifted inside her. Or perhaps between them?
Caro addressed him, and he veered his gaze away with a jerk.
“Please forgive my lack of a proper greeting, Oliver. I’m afraid it would take an act of God to heave me off this sofa to do the thing correctly. Would you care to join us?” She waved a hand toward the remaining chair beside Constance.
“Thank you. I can spare a few moments to visit,” Southwyn said.
He claimed the chair next to her. Constance tried and failed to ignore how the arm closest to him tingled with awareness.Nip it in the bud.Limiting herself to a vaguely polite smile, she asked, “How fares the little prince?”
The corners of his eyes creased in an alarmingly attractive way when he grinned, sending butterflies aloft under her ribs. “Happy to report he’s no longer destroying my study. The maids successfully removed the smell from the carpets. The drapes are beyond saving, I’m afraid.”
“He’s adjusted to the boxes then?”
“With one in nearly every room in the house, yes.” Oliver glanced at the others. “Sorry. Althea brought me a cat,” he explained.
“A kitten,” Constance corrected.
