Page 29 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
Half the ton had come out for the fresh air. He and Miss Hart wandered along the path, deeper into the park. The river babbled along beside them, and he couldn’t help but notice that they were attracting stares.
As they passed courting couples and clusters of maids or older women—the chaperones, presumably—eyes followed their movements. Miss Hart must have realized this, too, because she put slightly more space between their bodies, her eyes darting around nervously.
Many debutantes would enjoy the attention, but not her.He was getting the distinct impression that Miss Hart liked to be invisible and did not know how to respond when she was dragged into the light.
In an attempt to ease her discomfort, he asked, “Other than learning about strange places and civilizations, what do you enjoy doing in your spare time?”
She glanced at him, her eyebrows knitted together. Once again, he felt that she had an answer but was choosing not to give it, instead thinking of something that he, or perhaps society, would find more acceptable.
“What about needlepoint?” he prompted. “You were working on a design when I visited, were you not?”
“Needlepoint is a useful feminine skill.” The words were completely toneless. She may as well have been reciting her letters.
Frustration nipped at his heels. Her avoidance of a real answer was deucedly annoying. He wanted to get to know who she really was, but she was making it difficult to do so. He just wanted another glimpse at the woman he’d seen when he’d startled her at the ball, or when her mother had briefly left them on their own during his earlier visit.
Perhaps it was the company that was making her hedge. The maid was far enough behind that he wasn’t certain whether or not she’d be able to hear their conversation, but maybe Miss Hart feared she could and was worried she would report back to Mrs. Hart if she said anything out of order.
“You seemed very skilled,” he said for lack of anything more meaningful to contribute.
She snorted and shot him a skeptical look from beneath her eyelashes.
He grinned.There she is.
So far, complimenting her hadn’t worked as well as Kate had assured him it would, but at least her amusement was a genuine reaction.
Unfortunately, it lasted for only a few seconds before her expression shuttered as if the flicker of personality had never crossed her face.
Fine. He would just have to draw her out again.
He ducked his head closer to hers. “Your eyes remind me of the color of the water at a beach I once visited on the Indian subcontinent. There is a certain lightness and brightness to the shallows that you don’t see in England.”
Her face snapped toward him, and a wide smile spread across her lips. For a moment, he thought he’d found the secret to winning her over: compliments. But she swiftly disabused him of that notion.
“You’ve been to the subcontinent?” Excitement danced in her eyes.
“I have.” Ah. He should have realized that her interest lay in the subject matter itself. “I spent several weeks there a few years ago.”
“Can you tell me about it?” she asked breathlessly.
“Anything you’d like to know.”
Grateful for the opportunity to escape the stiltedness of their previous conversation, he told her as much as he could remember of his time on the subcontinent.
He shared about the markets he’d visited. The exotic spices and the rich, flavorful food. He described the temples he’d seen and the beauty of the beaches and natural areas. She asked thoughtful questions that showed a keen interest in the topic and an attentiveness to details that he admired.
When she finally ran out of questions, he decided it must be his turn to ask them.
“Where did your fascination with other countries and societies arise from?”
Her expression closed off immediately. “I’m sorry. I’ve been terribly rude, dominating the conversation.”
“No, you haven’t,” he huffed, irritated at losing the ground he’d made with her. “I—”
“My lord!”
A young woman appeared in front of him, and he stopped abruptly, barely managing not to walk into her.
Miss Hart caught him as he stumbled, and the brief press of her side against his sent a flash of awareness through him. The faint scent of peppermint tickled his nostrils. He wanted to lean closer and bury his face in her hair to see where it originated from.
