Page 42 of In Want of a Viscount
“You’re likely to get your second souvenir tomorrow,” he said quietly. “I’m not known for sitting with women in the library of this club.”
She wondered if he’d somehow managed to read her mind—or if perhaps he was experiencing the same contentment. “Where do you sit with them?”
He grinned. “No place a lady should visit.”
Her cheeks warmed, and she took another sip of the scotch, wishing she hadn’t asked because she didn’t want to envision him with other women.
“I’m curious, Miss Garrison—”
“Curiosity is a good thing. I don’t believe it ever killed a cat but rather lack of.”
He chuckled, his eyes crinkling. She liked when he laughed. “I’m curious as to why it is that your mother allows you to roam about without benefit of a chaperone.”
“I have a chaperone. Sam.”
“And a damned good one he is. I could have waltzed you right out the front door and he’d have not noticed.”
He was correct about Sam. But she could hardly blame her brother for his lack of attention when he never before had been responsible for her. She’d always taken care of him, as well as herself. Another reason she wasn’t keen on marrying. She suspected a husband would be prone to stifling her independence.
“He certainly didn’t escort you to the Elysium,” he continued.
“No. He’d already left for the evening, so I waited until Mama had retired. But tonight, as we both wanted to come to the same place, he was kind enough to delay his parting until I could join him, and we snuck out together.”
In spite of the distance between them, she heard his little grunt, which sounded a good deal like disapproval pointed toward Sam for his lack of care and herself for trusting him to see after her. But she didn’t really need Sam. A woman of her years, while a bitshy of the number acceptable to be going about without a chaperone, was perfectly capable of protecting herself. Her father had taught her how. “Besides, I always carry a gun in my reticule.”
His eyes widened at that. “Do you know how to use it?”
“What sort of ambassador would I be to that portion of the family business if I didn’t?”
Her tone indicated she thought he was silly for even asking. He must have accurately read it because the smile he gave her reflected a bit of pride and admiration. “You carry about a pistol, a timepiece,andinvitations in your reticule. Items I’d have never thought belonged together. I can honestly say, Miss Garrison, you’re unlike any other woman of my acquaintance.”
Naturally, he’d never met anyone like her. She didn’t adhere to the expectations one generally associated with a lady. “You must find me a bit ridiculous.”
“Don’t assume me to be like those ignorant blighters in New York.”
“I would never... just what I know of you thus far... it’s like comparing a goldfish to a shark.”
“I do hope I’m not the goldfish.”
She laughed. “No. You’re not really a shark either.” Even if there were times when he seemed dangerous to her heart. “I just couldn’t think of anything more opposite of the tiny fish.”
“You have the prettiest laugh.”
He seemed as surprised by his words as she was. As though each was taken off guard, they both took a sip from their respective glasses. Afterward she dared to confess, “I don’t think a gentleman has ever liked anything about me.”
“Idiots all, then.” He clasped together his hands, resting between his knees, and she wondered if he’d been contemplating reaching for her. “I like the blue of your eyes. I like that I can see a shadow of where your freckles once blossomed.”
It took every ounce of restraint she could muster not to slap her hands over her face to hide the remnants of them. “Freckles were the bane of my existence. Especially because I had so many.”
“You must have been a favorite of the sun then... for it to have kissed you so often.”
He at once appeared deadly serious and teasing, as if he wasn’t confident regarding how she might take his words and wanted to be prepared to embrace her reaction or shrug it off. In truth, she wasn’t quite certain how she should react because she’d never had anyone speak with her so poetically. She felt like she was at the Elysium asking to have someone toss compliments her way, to make her blush, to make her heart sing with gratitude because for a short time she’d feel desired. Finally, she settled on “Are you flirting with me, my lord?”
“Obviously not well if you have to ask.”
He sounded a bit disgruntled, as he had when he’d spoken about her falling asleep on him.
“To be quite honest, I’ve no experience at flirting, either the giving or receiving of it,” she admitted.
