Page 22 of The Lost Duke of Wyndham

“It would be,” he murmured, allowing his gaze to fall to her lips, “rather lovely, I think. Just think—you, me, alone in this exceedingly luxurious carriage.” He sighed contentedly and sat back. “The imagination runs wild.”

He waited for the old lady to defend her. She did not.

“Care to share your plans for me?” he asked, propping one ankle over the opposite knee as he slouched in his seat. It wasn’t an easy position to achieve, with his hands still stuck behind him, but he was damned if he’d sit up straight and polite.

The old lady turned to him, her lips pinched. “Most men would not complain.”

He shrugged. “I am not most men.” Then he offered a half smile and turned to Miss Eversleigh. “A rather banal rejoinder on my part, wouldn’t you say? So obvious. A novice could have come up with it.” He shook his head as if disappointed. “I do hope I’m not losing my touch.”

Her eyes widened.

He grinned. “You think I’m mad.”

“Oh, yes,” she said, and he rather enjoyed her voice again, washing warmly over him.

“It’s something to consider.” He turned to the old lady. “Does madness run in the family?”

“Of course not,” she snapped.

“Well, that’s a relief. Not,” he added, “that I am acknowledging a connection. I don’t believe I wish to be associated with cutthroats such as yourself. Tsk tsk. Even I have never resorted to kidnapping.” He leaned forward, as if imparting a very grave confidence to Miss Eversleigh. “It’s very bad form, you know.”

And he thought—oh, how lovely—that he saw her lips twitch. Miss Eversleigh had a sense of humor. She was growing more delectable by the second.

He smiled at her. He knew how to do it, too. He knew exactly how to smile at a woman to make her feel it deep inside.

He smiled at her. And she blushed.

Which made him smile even more.

“Enough,” the old lady snapped.

He feigned innocence. “Of what?”

He looked at her, at this woman who was most probably his grandmother. Her face was pinched and lined, the corners of her mouth pulled down by the weight of an eternal frown. She’d look unhappy even if she smiled, he thought. Even if somehow she managed to get that mouth to form a crescent in the correct direction—

No, he decided. It wouldn’t work. She’d never manage it. She’d probably expire from the exertion.

“Leave my companion alone,” she said tersely.

He leaned toward Miss Eversleigh, giving her a lopsided smile even though she was quite determinedly looking away. “Was I bothering you?”

“No,” she said quickly. “Of course not.”

Which couldn’t have been further from the truth, but who was he to quibble?

He turned back to the old lady. “You didn’t answer my question.”

She lifted an imperious brow. Ah, he thought, completely without humor, that was where he got the expression.

“What do you plan to do with me?” he asked.

“Do with you.” She repeated the words curiously, as if she found them most strange.

He lifted a brow right back at her, wondering if she’d recognize the gesture. “There are a great many options.”

“My dear boy,” she began. Her tone was grand. Condescending. As if he’d only needed this to realize that he ought to be licking her boots. “I’m going to give you the world.”

Grace had just about managed to regain her equilibrium when the highwayman, after a lengthy and thoughtful frown, turned to the dowager and said, “I don’t believe I’m interested in your world.”

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