Page 6 of Sir Hugo Seeks a Wife
His lips twitched.“A proposal is a little premature.I only met her three nights ago when we danced together at Lady Plunkett’s.”
She didn’t take too much comfort from his answer.He said a proposal was premature, not out of the question.Anyway, what did it matter?As if such a man as this would even consider marrying a plain long Meg past first youth who worked for her living.
If Athene had been wise instead of headstrong, she’d be invited to balls where dashing young bucks like Sir Hugo Brinsmead paid court to society belles.Then she reminded herself that even at her best, she’d never hold a candle to an acclaimed beauty like Petronella Fitchett.“Admiration then?”
“Yes.”
She pulled a sheet of paper from the drawer and picked up her pen.“So?”
He watched her with an interest that she urged herself not to misunderstand.After all, he was here to order a verse in praise of another woman.He wasn’t concerned with Athene Colton-Heath.Or even exotic Aphrodite de Smith.A name he clearly doubted was real.“So?”
Athene strove to keep a note of impatience out of her voice.Not every scion of the ruling class was gifted with either intelligence or eloquence.If they were, she’d be out of a job.
But the strange thing was that despite his mostly monosyllabic replies, she wouldn’t have said that Sir Hugo was particularly thick.Those blue eyes didn’t seem to miss much.
***
What did Hugo admire most about Lady Petronella?Her bosom?
He might disparage the lady’s conversation, but he hadn’t missed her lush breasts filling out the white satin bodice.He’d immediately noticed that Miss de Smith was built on less overflowing lines.Although he suspected that austere gown did no justice to the poetess’s charms.He was already sure that he’d have plenty to keep him entertained, should he ever be fortunate enough to undo the daunting row of jet buttons descending from the high collar.
“Sir Hugo?”Miss de Smith prompted.
God help him, he’d drifted into a delightful daydream about unbuckling the lady poet’s armor and discovering what lay beneath.She dressed to downplay her attractions.Given that she dealt with men all day, he supposed that she needed to look like a dragon to discourage unwanted advances.
“She’s…pretty?”he said and wanted to kick himself.He couldn’t blame Miss de Smith for looking less than impressed.
“Pretty,” she said with a tinge of flatness.“That doesn’t give me much to work on.”
“I’m sure other chaps have said the same.”Because Petronella Fitchettwaspretty, if as it proved, completely forgettable.
“Yes, they have.”
“Pretty Petronella has a ring to it.”
“If you say so.”
“I gather you have an opinion on this,” he said.
“I have no right to an opinion.”Even when Miss de Smith firmed that luscious mouth, he still thought of kisses.“You’re paying me five shillings for four lines of verse to make your mark with a lady you fancy.”
“I’ll give you a guinea if you speak frankly.”
She straightened in her wooden chair.Which was a surprise as he’d have said that she was already sitting as straight as humanly possible.“You’ve come to the most fashionable confectioners in London and you’re commissioning a verse to flatter your lady love.I assume you’ve noticed more about her than that she’s pretty.”
The truth was that he hadn’t.And Petronella wasn’t his lady love or ever likely to be.He supposed he could tell Miss de Smith that he was only here because Ivor Bilson had insisted it was the thing to do, not because of any particular yen to court the diamond.
He owed old Ivor a case of good claret.
Hugo’s hands curled around the brim of his hat and he battled an unaccustomed nervousness.He’d had his share of flirtations with ladies in York and Harrogate.His looks and manner found favor with the fair sex.But an approach to a lady had never mattered before – not at a visceral level.Making an overture to Miss de Smith felt like seizing his destiny.“Perhaps I could offer you dinner so we can work out just what to say.”
The expressive dark eyes went as cold as ice.If he’d thought her manner cool before, he’d had no idea how frosty she could become.“That won’t be possible, I’m afraid.”
He suppressed a shiver.“You never fraternize with the clients?”
“Never.”
Hugo should take the hint.The most compelling woman he’d ever met was out of bounds.Or not interested.Or perhaps already taken.
