His gut gave another of those unfamiliar lurches. He couldn’t remember anyone turning to him in their troubles. Philippa’s trust placed a weight upon his heart. It made him want to prove himself worthy. Why out of all Creation did this one girl rouse his rusty honor?
“People will forget,” she mumbled without conviction.
“People never forget scandal. Believe me, I know.” He made himself ask the question that hovered unspoken. “Do you dislike me so much?”
She frowned as if he made no sense, which went some small way toward soothing his bruised feelings. Dear God, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d cared about a woman’s opinion. His London friends would laugh their heads off at his dilemma. He was accounted a dab hand with the ladies. He’d believed that himself. Until he encountered Philippa Sanders. Who apart from a few sizzling kisses, seemed completely immune to his vaunted charms.
“I don’t know you.”
He laughed, delighted despite himself. “Well, that’s honest at least.”
Her sternness didn’t relent. “And you don’t know me. Surely in a marriage, that’s a recipe for disaster.”
He shrugged. “I’m no expert on the institution.” He paused. “But we have solid foundations.”
“Like what?” she asked with such disbelief that he hid a wince.
“Well, whatever you think of me, I definitely like you. And physically we’re compatible.”
Her cheeks heated, and she avoided his eyes with delightful shyness. “A few kisses prove nothing.”
His grip firmed. “This is where I can claim some expertise. We’ll have no difficulties in the bedroom.”
He heard her shocked gasp. “You’re very blunt, my lord.”
“You strike me as a woman who appreciates a direct approach.” His voice deepened into sincerity. “I’m sorry, though, that you’ll miss out on a courtship. If we had more time, I could convince you that we’re very compatible indeed.”
Her smile was faintly wistful. “I never expected anyone to court me.”
Anger pricked him at how her dreadful family had disparaged her—and convinced her that they were right to do so. At that moment, he swore on his unlamented father’s grave that she’d never feel insignificant again. “We’ll postpone the courtship until after the wedding.”
She still looked suspicious. “I’m surprised that you’re taking this in such good spirit.”
“I can imagine worse fates than being married to you.”
“You speak rashly, my l…Blair.” The tension eased around her eyes, and for the first time, he caught a glimpse of the intriguing humor he’d so enjoyed during their sojourn in his cupboard. “I might be bad tempered in the morning. I might slurp my soup.”
It was a relief to hear her sounding more like his redoubtable companion in adversity than the unsure girl who had met him outside the summerhouse. “I might tramp mud into the carpets or feed the dogs under the table.”
“Do you like dogs?”
“Of course.” He smiled. “Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. Something we have in common.”
Her brief lightness faded. “You pretend that we can win through on just a smile. Yet you must know we can’t.”
“A girl brave enough to break into a rake’s room is brave enough to approach our marriage as a grand adventure.”
She studied him, her brown eyes troubled. “I think…I think it would help if you kissed me.”
He regarded her with surprised admiration, even as heat stirred in his loins. She was indeed brave, his little sparrow. “Did you like it when I kissed you?”
“Yes,” she confessed on a thread of sound.
“I’m glad.” The urge to sweep her into his arms was nigh irresistible, but some strain of strategy in his compromised soul made him pause.