Page 33 of If the Slipper Fits
Then Mr. Randall arrived and started withhisquestions. They’d seemed innocuous enough at first. But he kept digging. The deeper he dug, the more she grew convinced he, too, had an agenda.
She nibbled the inside of her cheek.Don’t go borrowing trouble, Glory,her father would say.
Right. Was it more likely Mr. Randall and Lord Hardasher both plotted against her, or that their interest in her reflected nothing more than polite curiosity? The latter, of course.
The problem here was Caden. Caden, and his ability to scramble her thinking without even trying. Theproblemshould have taken care of itself, with Anna steering clear of the six foot two glorious male specimen, and would have—if not for Lady Wentworth’s machinations.
She, at least, Anna trusted to have no ulterior motives. She simply wanted Anna to have a little fun.
What, she wondered, did Caden want?
They moved forward in the queue.
He lowered his head to murmur low in her ear. “You’re thinking very hard about something.”
She suppressed a shiver of pleasure as the deep timbre of his voice sent a tickling sensation curling through her. “Nothing in particular,” she lied.
“Hmm.” A dubious glint shone in his blue eyes, as if he knew she held something back.
She didn’t recall Caden, the boy, having a particularly inquisitive nature. But Caden the man could give lessons to a dog sniffing out a bone.
“Mrs. Jones?”
“Yes?”
“I pray you, at least, listened when Lady Fenton announced the rules.”
She gave a one-shoulder shrug. “How hard could it be?”
His complexion went ruddy. He ran a finger under his cravat, as if to loosen it, and muttered, “You have no idea.”
Before she could ask what on earth he meant, they reached the head of the line. Caden accepted the letter-sized card, and the Fentons shewed them off with well-wishes for a good showing.
“And we’re off.” Card in hand, he led her down wide marble steps into the long gallery. They passed several couples, heads bent over their game cards. When they reached a semi-secluded alcove, Caden drew her to a halt.
“Now then.” He held out the card, but fixed his eyes on her. “The rules?”
Helpless to resist the magnetic draw of his gaze, her eyes locked with his. The sleepy intensity of his stare set off a flurry of butterflies in her belly.
The sensation was oddly familiar. It reminded her of how he’d made her feel as a girl. That searing blue gaze of his had left her dizzy and full of breathless anticipation. At the time, she hadn’t fully understood that he was who stirred those delicious feelings in her. She had known she secretly enjoyed having attention fixed solely on her.
“I take it we need to ask someone?” he asked with a wry grin.
Irritation—at herself or him, she couldn’t say—had her snatching the card from him. She studied it while piecing together what she’d heard of Lady Fenton’s instructions. “You see the rows and columns of squares?”
He leaned in. The heat from his body and his wickedly delectable scent, a mix of spicy cologne and something fresh—his soap or shampoo—filled her nostrils. Her heartbeat fluttered against her ribs like a hummingbird’s wings in flight.
“We’re to locate these items,” she said, hoping he missed the breathless quality of her voice.
“All of them?”
He sounded so appalled, she chuckled. “We only need to complete one consecutive row or column. Then we return with our finds. The first couple back wins.”
He reached out to angle the card toward him, his gloved fingers partially covering hers. The contact felt somehow intimate and claiming, as if he had every right to touch her.
“Lady’s broach. Gothic novel. Feather. Miniature portrait. Silver comb. Lady’s gold slipper.”
“Gold slipper? Where do you see that?”
