Page 23 of Never a Duchess
“Which is?”
Callan leaned closer and whispered, “That there is nothing more alluring to a man than a woman’s natural aroma.”
Miss Ware swallowed, and her cheeks turned cherry red.
He could spend hours inhaling every inch of her bare skin. He could close his eyes and still find her in a crowded room.
“This establishment is built on a lie.” Callan motioned to the shelves of elegant glass bottles, to the ladies pulling stoppers and dabbing scent on their wrists. “Should the secret become public knowledge, Monsieur Baudelaire would be bankrupt within a week.”
She narrowed her gaze. “You’re teasing me.”
“I shall prove the point the next time we’re alone. I guarantee ye will prefer my natural scent to the whiff of bergamot cologne.”
“Why wear it, then?”
“To keep the horde of admirers at bay.”
Miss Ware laughed. The contagious sound made him want to enrol in jester school. “You adore female attention. Did you not ride out with Miss Cartwright yesterday?”
Ah, did he detect a hint of jealousy in her tone?
“Why would I do that when I’ve made an oath to help with yer research? I’m nae the sort of man who pays attention to more than one woman.”
Since meeting her, other women blurred into the background, paled into insignificance. He gave them as much notice as he did marble statues and potted ferns.
“I doubt we will have time to consider my book now.”
“We’ll make time.” How else was he meant to seduce her?
She averted her gaze and beckoned the assistant.
A pompous fellow wearing a white periwig, pale blue breeches and tailcoat tottered over. “Welcome to Baudelaire’s,” he said, his poor French accent lacking any genuine inflection. He eyed Callan with some interest. “You wish to purchase an exotic scent for your wife, monsieur?”
“Oh, he is not my husband,” Miss Ware quickly added.
“But I would buy her every bottle in this shop if I thought she might waltz with me just once.”
“We agreed you wouldn’t ask me to dance.”
“The words didnae leave my lips. I merely expressed my deepest desire to—” He gestured to the assistant. “What’s yer name?”
“Christian, monsieur.”
“I merely expressed my thoughts to Christian.”
Miss Ware grinned. “Why would you purchase perfume when you prefer my natural scent?”
“Because I might spend an entire evening comparing each fragrance to the intoxicating smell of yer skin.”
Her brows knitted together in suspicion. “This is a test, an education of sorts.” She tapped her finger to her lips. “Let me see. I am definitely not speaking to a man in love.”
No, she was speaking to a man who needed to rid his body of this infernal ache. Needed Divine intervention to accomplish his task.
“What makes ye so sure?” he said, enjoying this game.
“You were looking at my mouth when you spoke.”
Was he? He could not recall.
