“But you did invite me, ma’am. I must not be that bereft of interesting qualities.”
“Shouldn’t everyone become acquainted with their banker?”
“You have a very agile tongue. I am not used to such quickness in a woman.”
“As I said, Mr. Saxton, perhaps you should cultivate your charm.”
“Back to ‘Mister,’ am I? I deserve it. Forgive me for insulting your sex. Then again, I am not quite used to having a woman seek me out.”
He watched her closely, but she kept her eyes lowered to her plate until, he guessed, she gained control. Which she did very quickly.
To his utter astonishment, she grinned impishly and waved her fork at him. “Did you not wish to say ‘blatant,’ Delaney?”
“You, Miss Jameson,” he said, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms across his chest, “are an enigma.”
“Do you dislike enigmas?”
“No. Such oddities add spice to life.”
She flushed. “I am not an oddity!”
“How about a rich, well-bred oddity?”
“At least when I have afternoon tea, it is not an affectation!”
“Poor Mrs. Stevenson.” He shook his head mournfully. “She does make such an effort, does she not?”
Before Chauncey could reply, a gentleman approached their table, his eyes never leaving her face.
“Ah, Tony,” Delaney said blandly. “How many scathing articles have you written today?”
“Nary a one, Del,” Tony said, his gaze still on Chauncey’s face.
“Forgive me. Miss Jameson, allow me to present to you Anthony Dawson, one of the owners of our most sterling newspaper, the Alta California. He also has pretensions to writing.”
Why won’t the wretched man go away? Chauncey thought ten minutes later. She tried to be polite, but her voice grew more clipped by the minute.
Delaney merely smiled, appearing somewhat bored as he listened to the endless stream of compliments Tony was pouring into Miss Jameson’s pretty ears. The compliments didn’t surprise him. It was the utter lack of feminine response to the compliments that struck him. A handsome man, Tony, he thought, but Miss Jameson had no interest in him, none at all. Why me?
“I scent another proposal,” Delaney said blandly as he escorted her out of the restaurant.
“I hope not,” Chauncey said, a frown furrowing her brow.
“I suspect you will become quite used to them if you remain long in San Francisco. Tony Dawson is a good man, you know.”
Good men don’t interest me!
“Will you see me back to my hotel, Delaney?”
“Anything to keep the wolves at bay, dear lady.”
He did not ask to see her again. She dallied, waiting, but he said nothing.
“Will you come up for tea, Delaney?” she asked at last in desperation. “Real English tea?”
He cocked a brow at her. “Forgive me, ma’am, but I must see to the safekeeping of your diamonds. I trust you will enjoy your visit to San Francisco.” He tipped his hat to her and strolled away.
She felt her frustration mount. What was wrong with him? He had enjoyed her company, she was sure of it. Damnable wretched man!