Page 15 of The Duelist for the Ton
Shit. She’d heard.
An uncomfortable heat bloomed in his body at her intense gaze. Then a slight smile played on her lips, as if she found him faintly amusing, like a child trying to engage in conversation with a superior mind.
Sweet holy hell—could anything be more desirable? A fire sparked in his belly, then centered on his groin, and he shifted position to ease the tightness in his breeches.
She lowered her gaze to his lap and her eyes widened a fraction. The tip of her tongue flicked across her lips, leaving them glistening with moisture—just ripe to be tasted…
“I say, old boy! You’re not being very gallant, are you?” Broom said. “A gentleman should never remain sitting in the presences of ladies standing.”
Bugger.If Stephen stood now, the cockstand in his breeches would be all too apparent. What would Lady Portia think if she sawthat?
“It’s of no consequence, Captain Broom, I assure you,” she said. “I am not one to lose composure over such a…littlematter.”
Her gaze flicked to his groin, and he caught a flash of amusement in her eyes as her maid stifled a giggle.
“I must apologize for my friend, Lady Portia,” Broom continued. “He’s not well versed in polite conversation.”
“Taciturnity is to be admired, given how little sense comes from a man’s lips,” she replied.
Confounded female!Did she seek to insult him?
Stephen crossed his legs to ease the ache in his groin. “A hospital’s no place for a woman,” he said, the gruffness in his voice disguising the swelling desire. “The injuries these men have sustained are not for a woman’s eyes.”
“And yet it’s women who tend to them daily,” she replied. “Whether we ignore them or not, men are injured on the battlefield, or shot in duels, and they deserve to be tended to.”
“There’s no honor in aduel,” he said. “Men who engage in such childish activities injure themselves unnecessarily and require the services of a physician at the expense of those in true need.”
“But they fight for the honor of their loved ones,” Broom said.
“Where’s the honor in a childish spat between men who should know better?” Stephen said. “A duel arises from an actof dishonor—the seduction of an innocent, violation of another man’s wife…or a silly insult at White’s.”
“You speak as if you’ve direct experience of duels, sir,” Lady Portia said, directing her unsettling gaze at him.
“I’d never stoop to such antics,” he replied, “but I am sensitive to the problem.”
“How so?”
“His younger sister, Lady Portia,” Broom said. “She will be having her come-out this season.”
“Then I look forward to meeting her,” Lady Portia said with a smile. “Is she excited about her debut?”
“Very—her romantic sensibilities make it so,” Stephen replied.
Her smile slipped. “Romantic sensibility in a woman is a luxury she can rarely afford, for it rarely ends well for the woman.”
“Do you speak from experience?” he asked.
Pain flickered in her eyes, then she averted her gaze and stooped to kiss Broom on the forehead.
“Forgive me, captain,” she said. “I see I’m intruding, and I mustn’t neglect my chores, or Dr. McIver will be most disappointed. I’ll come and sit with you later—after your friend has gone.”
She nodded toward Stephen, then approached another bed. Its occupant, who had remained still all morning, came to life, color blooming on his previously ashen face and a smile illuminating his one remaining eye.
“Lady Portia!” he cried, offering his left hand. “And the delightful Miss Price. I was beginning to worry that you’d never come today.”
She touched the stump where his right arm had once been, then took his left hand, and a stab of envy needled at Stephen to see the smitten expression on the man’s face.
“Captain Clarke, I promised, did I not?” she said. “Now, have you been practicing your writing?”
