Page 32 of Beyond Scandal and Desire
With Mr. Trewlove studying her, she suddenly felt uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny, almost felt as though he didn’t approve of her betrothal. Which was ridiculous musings on her part, for why would he care? “Thank you, Miss Trewlove. I consider myself fortunate indeed.”
“We don’t need so much formality between us. At least not tonight. You must call me Fancy.”
“You must call me Aslyn.” Every time it seemed her breath was returning, a quick glance at Mick Trewlove snatched it away again. “Is your other sister about?”
“No, unfortunately, she declined my invitation,” he said, and she heard the true regret in his tone.
“Because she would have to wear a proper dress,” Fancy said.
“Does she not dress properly?” Aslyn asked.
“Her attire is somewhere between what a man and a gypsy might wear. It’s terribly unflattering. I’ve told Gillie a thousand times that with a bit of effort she could be beautiful. But she won’t have it.”
“She has her reasons,” he said.
“I suppose a beautiful tavern keeper would find naught but trouble.”
“She has a tavern?” Aslyn asked.
Fancy beamed. “In Whitechapel. Mick helped her acquire it, just as he’s going to assist me in gaining a bookshop.”
“Fancy—” His low gravelly voice should have been frightening. Instead Aslyn was intrigued, imagined it even lower, whispered in shadows.
“The little shop on the corner across the street would be perfect. The windows on two sides would allow in light—”
“A wall of windows means you can’t have a wall of books.”
“So you’ve been thinking about it?” She was smiling so brightly Aslyn was surprised she didn’t throw her arms around her brother’s neck with glee.
He sighed, and in the sound she heard his defeat, wondered if it was the first one he’d ever suffered. Yet, she found no fault with it, because she knew he was going to give his sister what she craved, and she envied Fancy for having a brother who didn’t let pride get in his way or dictate his actions. “We’ll discuss it later.”
“I do love you, you know. Oh, and there’s Tittlefitz. I must have a word with him regarding the champagne. If you’ll excuse me.”
And she was gone, leaving Aslyn alone with the enigmatic Mick Trewlove. Well, not completely alone. Many people were wandering about, but she didn’t see anyone she recognized. Although surely she and Kip weren’t the only nobles here. She’d probably find some ladies she knew in the ballroom. She should make her excuses—
“You look beautiful tonight.”
She was ashamed to admit she’d have selected a more revealing gown had she known this was her destination, grateful she’d worn the pearl necklace that flattered the slender column of her throat. The pearl and diamond comb nestled in her upswept hair always gave her confidence. “Do I not always?”
“You know you do.”
She released a self-conscious laugh. “Actually I don’t. I have a funnily shaped nose. Tips up on the end most unattractively. My cousin who inherited my father’s title once told me I reminded him of a pig. Of course, he was only nine at the time, two years older than I, but still. I don’t know why, but as though I needed to prove his point, I began snorting and grunting as though I were wallowing in pig slop.”
“I’m certain whatever sounds you made only endeared you to him.”
“Oh, I seriously doubt it. I’ve not seen him since my parents’ funeral. We were never close. Just as well, I suppose.” She glanced around. “Is your mother about?”
“No. Like Gillie, she wouldn’t be comfortable in such exquisite surroundings, wouldn’t feel as though she belonged—no matter how much I assure her otherwise.”
“The Duchess of Hedley, my guardian, is the same. I’ve never known her to attend so much as an afternoon tea away from her own residence. I find it sad, and yet she seems content enough. It’s a shame your mother can’t see all this.”
“I’ve given her a private tour. Would you care for one?”
He was being rude to his other guests. He knew that and he didn’t care. He’d set up the card room with the hope Kipwick would abandon his fiancée, leaving Mick with free rein to see to her needs, needs she probably didn’t even realize she had. Any and all needs he would satisfy, willingly, eagerly. She had but to ask. She didn’t even need to use her voice. Her eyes, a crook of her finger, a blush. But at the moment, she gave him none of those.
In her expression, he could see the impropriety of his request had her mind spinning. At least she hadn’t declined outright, which meant she was considering it. As a footman walked past, he reached out and grabbed two flutes of champagne, handed her one, watched as she sipped delicately, imagined her sipping at his mouth in the same manner. He was not a novice when it came to women, but no other had caused his head to spin with so many inappropriate thoughts. Yet it wasn’t lust that drove him. It was something he didn’t understand, seemed unable to comprehend in any meaningful manner.
“How private?” she finally asked.
