Page 10 of An Innocent Maid for the Duke
She perched on the edge of the seat and he sat beside her, angling his body so he could see her profile while she gazed around.
‘I did not expect so large a garden,’ she said. ‘In London, I mean.’
‘When this house was built large gardens were the fashion. This is one of the few streets where they have not been torn down to make way for a square or a terrace. What is left of the garden is only a small part of what was here before.’
‘It is quiet enough to be miles from the city.’
‘You like the country? What county do you hail from?’
‘I have always lived in London, Your Grace.’
‘So, you do know who I am. Will you honour me with your name?’
She froze.
Another rushed fence. Curse it, what was wrong with him? He lightened his tone. ‘Your first name, if you will.’
‘Rose.’
‘It suits you.’
‘Why? Because my face goes red when I am embarrassed?’
He repressed the desire to chuckle at her defensive tone. It seemed they were both less than at ease. ‘No. Because, as you know, a rose is considered the most beautiful of flowers.’
A cheeky grin lit her face. ‘Now that’s what you call flattery, Your Grace, and I would prefer we was...were honest in our dealings.’
The slight slip in her vocabulary stunned him. It was not the sort of thing to fall from a gently bred girl’s lips. Though a foreigner might make such a mistake, he supposed. ‘So exactly where in London do you reside, Rose?’
‘I doubt you would know it, even if I told you.’
Or perhaps he was wrong; she certainly sounded haughty enough to be the daughter of a nobleman.
‘Are you married?’ The question had plagued him from the moment they met.
Surprise filled her expression. ‘Mercy, certainly not.’
‘So tell me why you were here at the Vitium? Who brought you?’
‘I came by myself, on my own two feet.’
He shook his head. She would not win in a war of words. ‘Only patrons and their guests are permitted through these hallowed portals.’
She laughed out loud. ‘Hallowed. I think not.’
Again, every word was formed with care. Perhaps she was the daughter of some foreign dignitary. Or a very accomplished actress.
He stretched out his legs. ‘I am glad you came.’
‘Me, too. I wasn’t sure you were real. Half the time our dance seemed like a dream.’
He cocked a brow. ‘A good dream, I hope?’
Gah, really?He was actually fishing for compliments?
‘A lovely dream.’
He found himself tongue-tied by the sweet smile on her pretty lips, the genuine light in her eyes and the blush on her cheek. He wanted to kiss her lips. Badly.
