Page 5 of Seducing a Frigid Lady
“Miss Lyttleton, Miss Lloyd, it is a pleasure to see you both again,” Maximilian greeted them both with a smile and Priscilla couldn’t help but chuckle slightly at her friend’s deer in lantern-lights expression. She could think of far worse men to be stuck sitting next to all evening. “Please, allow me to introduce you to my cousin, Lord Lionel Sinclair.”
At his gesturing, Priscilla was forced to turn slightly in her chair to look at the man beside her. Immediately, she was caught off guard by the sight of him so close up. Though tanned, his complexion was flawless, an afternoon shadow of facial hair making him look rugged, yet handsome. The way the corner of his lips twitched upwards in a smile made him look almost boyishly charming and yet there was a masculine energy to him that set her heart racing.
He is just like all the others;she told herself firmly. It had to be true because she had yet to meet a single gentleman of thetonwho was not self-centred, arrogant and quite annoying in some way or other.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Sinclair,” she said, keeping her voice level and firm. Bowing her head discreetly before she turned her gaze away to focus on something else going on around them, hoping to ingratiate herself into another conversation.
It took only a few seconds to realise that would be next to impossible. Not a single person was looking at her, not even a gaze slanted in her direction that she might be able to grab a hold of to stop herself from merely looking ignorant.
Worst of all was the tugging in her gut that had her turning her face back towards the viscount. The double-take she took of his appearance and the way his adamant gaze upon her made her shiver was enough to make her more than a little frustrated. No gentleman had ever looked at her in such a way and made her feel anything but the determination to get away from him.
Cilla, get a hold of yourself,she insisted, pinching her own leg with great difficulty through the skirts of her gown.He really isn’t that attractive.
Chapter 2
Viscount Lionel Sinclair was rather used to the way new acquaintances, especially the ladies, liked to fawn over him. It was not merely a big-headed thing but a fact, one that he welcomed in light of his good humour and wit, always willing to make people laugh and always happiest when everyone was having a good time.
But at the Marshams' table that night, there was one woman who did not act as all the others did. She had not begun to whisper to her friends the moment that he walked in or shown any hint of excitement in a broad smile, trying to meet his gaze, fidgeting in her chair as though she hoped he might sit beside her. In fact, she seemed to react in quite the opposite manner, not meeting his gaze for more than a second as he rounded the dining table with his friend and cousin, Maximilian.
Though she greeted him kindly enough upon sitting, she did not gaze at him adamantly or even blush, as though the mere closeness of him made her feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. She kept her distance, talking mainly to her friend, a woman whom Lionel soon came to realise was their host’s daughter.
Where Miss Lyttleton was a brunette with gentle green eyes, Miss Lloyd was quite the opposite. Her raven-black hair was coiled at the nape of her neck before cascading in glossy waves down over her right shoulder, the shoulder closest to him. And her eyes were so icy blue that he feared if she looked at him too long, they might actually turn him to ice too. Her cool demeanour did not help matters, though it did intrigue him greatly.
As dinner commenced, Lionel found himself wishing to get to know the woman better. Compared to all the other young ladies at the table who were eyeing him, fluttering with laughter whenever he looked in their direction, Miss Lloyd was practically made of stone.
“Have you been in London for the Season for very long, Miss Lloyd?” he asked in an attempt to make conversation, unused to having to be the one to do so.
He made an effort to begin eating the entrée that had been placed before him, though suddenly, he found that he was far less hungry than one might have imagined after spending most of the day travelling.
“On and off, Lord Sinclair,” she responded, barely looking up from her plate to look at him. Though on the surface it was a simple answer, Lionel thought that there had to be more to it. One did not usually flock to and fro when the Season was on, at least not the women. They liked to congregate wherever the gossip was going on and during the Season, that was London. Yet Lionel did not get the sense that Miss Lloyd was a socialite.
“Do you plan to stay for the entire Season?” Lionel asked, a little flustered that she hadn’t said a little more to help the conversation along. Usually talking to a lady was just so easy, they rarely shut up.
In fact, almost every lady around him was babbling on about something or other, several of them even trying to get his attention from time to time. And though he answered them politely, or even wittily, he found his attention always being drawn back to Miss Lloyd.
“She shall if I have anything to say about it,” green-eyed Miss Lyttleton announced from beside her friend, looking at them both with a smile and offering them the elevation of her wineglass before taking a sip.
“What my friend means to say is, I shall stay for as long as my papa wishes me to,” Miss Lloyd explained, taking a delicate bite of her food. Lionel found he was fascinated by the slow way with which she moved the fork to her mouth, the way she allowed the food to dance there on her rosebud lips for just a moment before she allowed them to part. They closed delicately around the mouthful and her eyes closed momentarily as though she was savouring every second of the flavour before she opened them again.
Lionel felt as though he had seen the action a thousand times before, ladies playing coy with their food to try and attract him to what they believed to be their best quality, tempting him with the thought of what their lips might be able to do.
And yet for the first time he felt as though it was not on the intention of the lady’s part to do so. But somehow, it worked entirely too well. He felt his loins heating with such a simple ease that his thighs clenched slightly and he was more than a little glad that he had already placed his serviette on his lap.
“Then you are close with your father?” Lionel asked, taking another bite of his food and attempting not to stare at her like a damned fool.
“Some might say so, my lord,” she responded, never looking at him the once. And it was during the removal of the entrée plates, when Miss Lloyd picked up her wineglass and took a sip, that Lionel realised he had little more to say.
For once, he was dumbfounded, speechless, and it was an entirely new sensation to him. He had so often been accused of simply liking to hear himself speak that he had astonished even himself.
For the rest of the dinner, Lionel felt the coolness of the lady sitting beside him. Though she conversed politely with everyone close upon the table, Lionel felt as though there was something about her, some kind of wall that was up between her and whomever it was she was speaking to.
It was a wall of ice, thick and cold and elegantly placed. And Lionel felt the oddest of sensations to climb it or even to break right through its centre.
“I do hope that you had a pleasant journey, Lord Sinclair,” one of the ladies close by attempted to begin a conversation. “I am told you are going to be staying with your cousin for the majority of the Season.”
Normally, Lionel would have had no problem talking about himself, nor what he planned to do for the London Season. But for some reason, this lady’s words grated him quite the wrong way. Forcing a smile, he responded, “Yes, I do intend to do so, though I am uncertain if my cousin shall be able to put up with me for the entirety of the Season, and I fear I shall greatly miss the countryside.”
The lady, a honey-blonde brown-eyed beauty, smiled at him sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes just right. On any ordinary day, Lionel would have been more than happy to take up the flirtation, but suddenly this did not feel like any other day before it. In fact, Lionel felt entirely off his game and to him, that was appalling.
