He was one of those men who was completely above her in terms of possible choice of a husband.
The Earl of Darby. Lord Peter Abbot.
He was one of the gilded ones. Anointed as beloved by the ton. Special.
He was tall with chestnut hair that brushed his forehead and cheeks. His riveting green eyes peered at her, a bemused look curved his sensual mouth, and his hard jaw cocked to an angle as he assessed her.
“Are you doing something you should not?” he asked, a single brow lifting as if he was amused.
“Why would you say such a thing?” she asked quickly, pressing her back against the door.
He flashed his famous devil-may-care smile. “Because you look like a cat who has got themaster’scanary.”
“I have done no such thing,” she said firmly, clutching the book.
“Glad to hear it,” he said with a nod and a wink. “One should hate to hear that the bailiffs were called on my best friend’s sister.”
She gave him a scowl. “You are being ridiculous.”
“I am often ridiculous,” he agreed merrily, “but you know this already.”
“Indeed, I do. I still recall the day that you dipped my hair in ink.”
His eyes widened. “So you’ll never forgive me for that, Ophelia?” he asked, teasing, his voice a low, rough, beautiful sound.
“Never,” she said, tipping her chin up, though she was having trouble fighting a smile. Dash it all. He was far too charming for anyone’s good. He made one wish to smile, merely by his nearness. “It was a horrible thing to do. You ruined my gown, and I never heard the end of it from my nanny or my governess or my mother. They never trusted me with an ink pot again.”
“How terrible for you,” he said with exaggerated apology.
Her lips twitched. “Indeed, I was not allowed to scribe anything for months.”
“Do you like to scribe?” he asked.
She swallowed, surprised by how quickly her heart was beating in his rather formidable yet affable presence. “I do. Don’t you?”
“I scribe a great deal,” he said with a beleaguered sigh. “One must when one is an earl, but it is not my favorite thing to do.”
Shetsked. “I suppose your favorite things to do are to seduce ladies, ride horses, and gamble.”
He laughed, a deep booming sound, as he folded his arms across his chest, which caused the long folds of his great coat to wave about his long limbs.
Beautiful, strong limbs dressed in immaculately tailored black.
He was such a strange figure, so austere and yet so jovial. He was a contradiction and always had been. She could still remember what a laughing boy he had been. He’d never been malicious. Not cruel like some of the boys that her brother had made friends with and then quickly dropped when he’d realized that they were not in jest but were truly bullying his sisters.
No, her brother Edmond was a much better sort than to be friends with cruel young men. And so she was glad that Darby was a good gentleman, except for the fact that he was a rake.
There was no questioning that. He was in the papers all the time. His exploits were well-known. The Notorious Earl of D— and all that.
He smiled at her, the kind of smile a friend gives.
Her heart sank, much to her annoyance.
No, Darby would never see her as a young lady.
She sighed inwardly. There had been a time years ago when she had wondered what it would be like to feel his lips upon hers. She blinked. What an astonishing thought to think in such a moment.
She had not had such a fancy about him for years.