Page 83 of The Moonstone Pirate
“Good afternoon, Lord Woodley.” The shopkeeper cast him a pleasant smile. “Is there something I might help you with?”
“Yes, I’m looking for something with a butterfly decoration—a pin or necklace or hair clips. Whatever you have. I’d like your prettiest.”
That put a smile on her face. “I have lovely hair clips that just came in. Here, let me show you.”
They were aquamarine butterflies and matched the splendid color of Imogen’s eyes. “These are perfect. I’ll take them all.”
“All?” Miss Harrow’s smile broadened, and her eyes lit up.
Well, at leastsomeonewas happy with him.
“I assume this is a gift? I’ll place it in a lovely box for you. Do you wish to include a note for the young lady?”
“No note required.”
Having finished that chore, he tucked the prettily wrapped box in the inside pocket of his jacket and strode to the tea shop. He did not know whether to groan or laugh, for Imogen had three large strawberry tarts in front of her and appeared determined to eat them all. Devouring three tarts of that size was too much for even him to accomplish without suffering for it later.
He knew she loved strawberry tarts.
He also knew she was in love with him.
“Do you mean to eat them all in one sitting?” he muttered, drawing out the chair beside hers and settling in it.
She was still refusing to look at him. “In fact, I do. You may take yourself off if you disapprove.”
He turned to his cousin, who was avidly listening in on their exchange. “Deandra, go check on Parrot.”
“Why? He is safely tucked away in Mrs. Halsey’s garden enjoying his own treats.”
He frowned at her.
“Oh, all right. But it was quite low of you to be cavorting with that horrid widow when Imogen is—”
“Go, Deandra.”
She sighed and scooted out of her chair. “All right.”
Now alone with Imogen, he tucked a finger under her chin and turned her to face him. “I did not invite that woman to dine with me. How could you think I would? Nor did I enjoy a moment of our meal. Not that I owe you an explanation, but I am going to give you one anyway.”
“Save your breath. You have already made it clear you have no intention of marrying me. It is none of my business what you do or with whom you do it. I am not an idiot. I saw the way she was all over you. What I don’t understand is what you are playing at. Why insist I choose butterfly pins for my hair if you care nothing about me? Why bother with me at all?”
“You ought to know by now the only reason that widow insinuated her way into dining with me was in order to hurt your feelings.”
She sighed. “I wish my feelings weren’t so obvious.”
“Imogen,” he said softly, “this is the sweetest thing about you. I love your honesty. Now I shall tell you something that I vowed I would not, but I cannot bear for you to think…” He raked a hand through his hair, and then reached into his pocket and set the gift box on the table. “Bloody hell, I know I am going to regret this.”
“Regret what? You have been hemming and hawing and have said nothing yet.”
“Just because I don’tsayit doesn’t mean I don’tfeelit…and that is all I am going to say about it. Just accept my gift and do not give me a hard time about it.”
She stared at him and laughed lightly. “Draco, what haven’t you said? And what do you feel? Would you kindly be more specific? I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Figure it out, Imogen. I’ve already said more than I should.”
She stared at the gift box, and her expression turned tender. “Will I find a butterfly in that box?”
“Several, and they match the color of your eyes.”
