No, don’t notice her collarbones.
He forced his eyes back up to her face. The contrast of her dark hair and soft complexion made her eyes startlingly vibrant. She wore a fine but simple cream-colored gown with a light blue satin overlay that made her trim, elegant figure—the figure that he wasn’t noticing—even more apparent. This was definitely not a young maid he was looking at. This was a beautiful woman.
“That would be lovely. Do you know where I might find one?”
A beautiful, feisty woman. And he was in trouble.
Chapter 9
Rose had barely set foot in the drawing room on Carver’s arm before she was accosted by two blonde, blue-eyed young ladies. Rose knew who they were simply from the brief description that Carver had given of his sisters during their journey that afternoon. But no amount of warning could have prepared her for their energy.
“Daphney!” said the youngest sister of the bunch, taking her by the arm and tearing her away from Carver. “Oh, I hope you don’t mind if I call you by your given name! We never stand on ceremony around here, and since we are soon to be sisters, I cannot bear to call you anything different.” A touch dramatic. This one must be Lady Kate.
“Of course I don’t mind.” Because it’s not my name. “You must be Lady Kate,” said Rose, fixing her mouth in a polite smile.
She was now—as Carver had quickly informed her on their way downstairs—his very proper affianced wife. They had not met in his bedchamber, but in a ballroom.
Rose was a highly experienced thief, but even with her advanced skills in lying it was proving difficult to keep all of her stories straight. She was a thief, pretending to be a pregnant maid carrying an earl’s child, pretending to be an upstanding gentry miss. She could do it. She could keep it all straight.
Lady Kate’s pouty look pulled Rose back to their conversation. “What gave me away?” said Kate. “Has Carver been warning you about us?”
“Not at all. Only regaling me with endearing stories about each of you.” And yes, warning.
The other sister smiled and curtsied to Rose, looking much more controlled and refined than her younger sister. She looked to be only a few years Carver’s junior and absurdly beautiful. However, despite her refined beauty and elegance, Rose could see a nervousness in her large blue eyes.
Carver walked to stand next to Rose and his sister. “Elizabeth, may I make known to you Miss Daphney Bellows. Daphney, this is my younger sister, Lady Elizabeth.”
Lady Elizabeth smiled, revealing her bright white teeth. “I’m so happy to meet you, Daphney! And please do not worry over formal addresses around us. We are just happy that Carver has finally found a lovely lady to make him behave,” said Elizabeth. “Carver says that you met during your first ball of the Season? Do tell us the story.”
Rose looked back at Carver for approval and found his amused smile again. “Yes, darling, tell them the story.” There was a look in his eyes that told Rose he was finding far too much pleasure in her discomfort.
Rose had an amusing idea of her own. “That is partly true. But I believe it was several balls into the season before your brother found the confidence to approach me. He’s actually quite shy in London.”
She slid her gaze to Carver, whose smile had dimmed and eyes had narrowed. He moved closer to her side. “Daphney, darling, I believe you are remembering it wrong. You were the one that seemed quite overwrought by my attentions. I only kept my distance because I was afraid you would fall to a swoon in the ballroom.” The man knew how to play the game, did he? Once again, Rose found it difficult not to smile in his presence.
“How romantic!” said Kate with wide adoring eyes.
“Oh yes, I remember now,” said Rose, shooting Carver a challenging look. “Only, it was that the scent of your essence was so strong and repulsive that it gave me a headache.” She turned her attention back to the sisters who were gazing on them with wide eyes and very clearly soaking up every word. “I dropped him subtle hints, you see, that I absolutely would not dance with him until he changed his scent to something less…flamboyant.” Oh, he would hate that last bit.
Rose felt Carv
er move closer before she looked to confirm it. Something odd always happened to the air when he drew near. It felt warmer and in short supply. He towered over her and his smile made Rose’s stomach flutter. “Again, you are remembering it wrong. That was Mr. Covington you are thinking of. A horrible smelling man, you’re right.” She was biting her lips and wiggling her toes but still afraid that her smile was going to break free.
He stepped even closer. “You were so intimidated by my good looks that I could barely get you to come near me,” he said with a grin and a mischievous look in his eyes. “But then, when I couldn’t bear having to look on your beautiful face from a distance any longer, I took you by the hand without asking—,” and then he was taking her hand, “and I lead you out to the dance floor where I held you in my arms for a waltz that scandalized the whole room.” Her heart was hammering in her chest while he reenacted their fake memory, actually pulling her to him and placing a hand on her back in the pose of a waltz.
She had to tilt her head up to look in his eyes and the warm look he gave her did nothing to stop the heat rushing through her arms and neck. She swallowed, feeling all too aware that this moment was being watched by two young ladies.
“Oh yes. I do remember now.” She was admitting she had been beaten. Only he didn’t let her go after the declaration. He was still looking into her eyes in that frightening way. He was too close. Close enough to verify that his scent was not at all flamboyant, but masculine and far too pleasant. And she could see the way his brown wavy hair curled up a little at the nape of his neck, saying that he was probably in need of a haircut. But she didn’t want him to cut it. She wanted to reach up and run her fingers through—
“Uncle Carver!” The voice of a small child entered the room and pierced through the moment. Rose breathed again. A little girl with dark brown, bouncing curls and wearing an adorable white nightgown rushed to Carver’s side. He let go of Rose and turned to the girl, caught her up in his arms, and threw her into the air.
“My darling! Goodness, how you have grown. What are you now, twenty-five?” It would seem the earl was good with ladies of all ages.
“No, Uncle Carver!” She giggled in his arms. “I’m just three!” She proved the number with her chubby fingers.
He frowned theatrically. “No, certainly that cannot be true. You look like a proper lady!”
“I do know how to curtsy,” she stated with pride.