Page 21 of When the Viscount Seduces
“I shall survive,” he said glibly, a smile teasing his mouth. “I must thank you for our meeting earlier.”
“I do hope you found it helpful.”
“Time will tell, but I am hopeful for the first time in years. And I am committed to doing whatever you tell me.” His gaze met hers with an earnest warmth. “I am yours to command, Miss Price.”
Gwen’s chest expanded. She would do everything in her power not to let him down. Pulling the folded speech from her pocket, she tucked it into his hand. “I thought your speech was wonderful.”
He transferred the speech to his free hand and slipped it into his coat. “I am delighted—and humbled—to hear that.”
“Good evening, Lord Somerton.” A feminine voice to Gwen’s left drew them to pause in their promenade. There were a pair of ladies, young and pretty, their gazes fixed on Somerton. It was as if Gwen wasn’t there.
“Good evening,” he responded.
“I’ve dropped my fan,” one of them said, her lips pressing into a plump pout.
“Allow me.” The viscount bent—without releasing Gwen—and plucked up the fan. He presented it to the pouter, and her lips curled into a flirtatious smile.
She batted her dark lashes at him. “You are most kind, my lord.”
“It is my pleasure to help.”
“Perhaps we’ll see you later?” the other young lady said with a hopeful lilt.
“One can never tell.” He grinned, and Gwen could practically see their pulses flutter and their breath seize in their lungs.
“It’s happening already,” Gwen said.
“What? Those young ladies?” He lifted a shoulder. “That’s typical, even before I started helping you.”
And why wouldn’t it be? Somerton was an exceedingly charming and attractive viscount, even if his reputation was rakish.
“So I’m not interfering in whatever you would normally be doing?” she asked.
“What would that be?”
“Flirting?”
He laughed. “I can flirt with you, can’t I?” He waggled his brows at her, his green eyes piercing her with a sharp interest. In that moment, Gwen realized the strength of his flirtation, and she too felt her pulse flutter and her breath catch.
“You can, but what would be the point?” she asked nervously, adding a smile so he wouldn’t realize she was seriously asking. Why would he flirt with her when their near courtship was only pretend?
He paused, turning toward her slightly. “The point is in showing everyone within eyesight and earshot that you are a woman worth flirting with. Because you are.” He leaned close and whispered, “Don’t ever think you shouldn’t be flirted with.Now, bat your eyelashes. And smile. Everyone will wonder what I’ve just said to you.”
She did, and when he straightened, she sent a furtive glance around and saw that there were indeed people watching them. “Perhaps your plan has merit.”
“Tomorrow at the Phoenix Club ball, you will have three dances and at least two promenades. And not with me.”
“How can you promise that?” She was consistently amazed by his confidence. In this, anyway. He’d been different that afternoon, more vulnerable. She thought she might prefer that version of the roguish viscount.
“Trust me, Miss Price.”
She couldn’t help but do so—not when he looked at her as if he ruled the social world. And perhaps he did.
“I forgot to speak with you as if you were a potential suitor,” she said with a faint grimace.
“We did forget that. Ah, well, next time perhaps—if it’s even necessary,” he said. “Allow me to return you to your mother.”
When they parted a few minutes later, she noted that her pulse was still fluttering, and her breath was perhaps a little short.
