Page 14 of Playing the Scoundrel

“Well, I was told I could not approach a lady, even if we were already introduced. You did not smile or bow or give the least inclination that you desired my presence.”

Emma’s jaw dropped, amazed as he repeated her own words back to her. “And if I did?”

“And you say I’m a flirt? You are a terrible tease,” he said in a low voice that brought gooseflesh to break out across her arms.

Emma tried to shake off his influence over her and smirked. “You have no idea.”

“Though I must tell you, Miss Follett, you look particularly lovely today. The color of that dress is a perfect shade for you.”

“You think so?” Emma looked down at her dark green skirts. “Have you an eye for women’s fashion?”

“Not a bit. Though I was only recently told that being able to discuss such things with a lady might win me her favor.” He leaned over, dark eyes enticing her to play back. “Do you think it’s working?”

“Perhaps. What other colors would you suggest I should try?”

Mr. Godwin took a step back and pressed a hand to his chin, then looked at her face and slowly let his gaze travel down the length of her body. Despite the many layers she wore, Emma still felt the need to cover herself and hide somehow, as though he might see right through her. The chill in the air was instantly forgotten, as his very public appraisal of her brought a heat to her cheeks, and the look on his face portrayed a hunger she was unfamiliar with. When he finally met her eyes again, he grinned.

“As I said, this green suits you very well.” The tone of his voice made Emma swallow hard. “But I don’t think those fashionable colors would do for you, like the gaudy yellows or pinks. I’d like to see you in a royal blue perhaps. Or a dark, crimson red.”

So this was what seduction felt like. He hadn’t even touched her, but she could hear the desire in his voice and feel the pull of his gaze. It would be so easy to take a step forward and lean into the warmth of his arms. But she had to remind herself that she despised this man, and taking advantage of her weakness was exactly what he wanted to do. She needed to be strong, though she was realizing she might be a little out of her depth with him.

“Very well. I’ll see if I can find anything of that nature the next time Mrs. Dunn and I visit the modiste.”

“So agreeable, Miss Follett,” he said, a smile growing on his lips.

“Come along, Emma.” Mrs. Dunn’s carriage appeared behind them. “Hot tea awaits.”

Grateful for the escape, Emma moved toward the carriage, and Mr. Godwin offered her a hand up. Then he closed the door and leaned against it, letting his elbows drape over. “You know, Mrs. Dunn, I heard tell once that your close friends call you Mrs. Chrissy. Would you oblige me?”

Mrs. Dun gasped. “Most of my friends are dead, young man. You take such liberties like that with me again and I’ll see you horse whipped, you understand?”

Emma was not surprised to hear the very clear threat, but she was surprised to see the smile that Mrs. Dunn was trying to hide.

“My apologies. I meant no disrespect.” He pressed a hand to his chest and stepped back. “Have a good evening, Mrs. Dunn. And until we meet again, Miss Follett.”

He gave a wink as the carriage jerked forward, and Emma cursed her heart for skipping a beat. She could see why he had all the ladies’ hearts fluttering, but she would not be one who succumbed to him. He could be as handsome and charming as he liked, but she was determined that he would be the one who succumbed to her instead.

“That boy,” Mrs. Dunn said, shaking Emma from her thoughts. “I haven’t been called Mrs. Chrissy in some years.”

“Are you upset with him?” Emma asked. If she was, it might put a stall in Emma’s plans.

“I should be, but it was nice to hear the name again all the same.”

Of course. He continued to ride the line of decorum and still did not receive any backlash or punishment. But he would eventually learn, even if it had to be by Emma’s own hand.

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