Page 22 of Playing the Scoundrel

“I’m afraid so. I’d offer to escort Mrs. Chrissy, but she’d only beat me with her walking stick again.”

Miss Follett chuckled, before hiding her mouth behind her hand and biting her lip to stifle it. “Who’s to say you wouldn’t deserve it?”

Her voice was low, likely so that Mrs. Dunn might not hear her as they followed her down the corridor, but Henry appreciated the intimacy it added to the moment. And somehow, he still wished for more.

“It’s very likely I do,” Henry whispered back. “I’m much safer with you.”

“Ah, but am I safe with you?”

Such boldness. Henry looked down at her, and again he caught a glimpse of something. The smirk that quirked her perfect lips, the uneven pink across her cheeks, and the slant in her eyes that was both playful and somehow not. She was becoming an enigma that he was addicted to discovering.

They entered the drawing room, and Miss Follett helped Mrs. Dunn to get comfortable in her armchair. Then she moved to the pianoforte and began sifting through papers of sheet music, so Henry moved to join her.

“Shall I turn pages for you?” he asked.

She looked at him over her shoulder with a sharp glare, but then she softened. “If you wish.”

“I do wish.” Henry took a step forward. “It is the reason I’m here. To take every opportunity to enjoy your company.”

“So it would seem.” She gave him another smirk before taking her pieces of music and settling herself at the piano bench. Henry stood by, lingering in her presence as she started to play. Lithe fingers spread across the black and white keys, creating a song that filled the entire room. Henry was certain he should have recognized the piece, but he was not up to date on his current composers. The music was loud and fast, not at all whimsical and romantic as he’d expected. As he watched Miss Follett play, she surged with passion that moved her body, ebbing and flowing with the melody. Her focus on the music was so determined that Henry almost missed his cue to turn the page. He wanted to take a seat next to her and just watch her, feel what she felt, but he also didn’t want to interrupt the moment for her. He had a feeling if he did, it could be as dangerous as Mrs. Dunn with her walking stick.

Eventually, the song slowed and came to a close. Miss Follett looked up at him as if victorious as Mrs. Dunn gave modest applause.

“Well done, my dear. Excellent skill,” she said.

“Indeed.” Henry bowed. “Most exquisite. In fact, if you’re fond of music, I wonder if you and Mrs. Dunn would join me at the King’s Theatre this coming Friday? There’s an opera I know you would enjoy, and I even have my own box seats.”Just like Mr. Bernard.

“That’s very good of you, Mr. Godwin,” said Mrs. Dunn from her chair. “We’d be happy to accept your kind invitation.”

“Indeed.” Miss Follett rested her hands in her lap, not making a move from her seat as she looked up at him. “Though it makes me wonder, why are you so determined to pursue me, Mr. Godwin?”

Her voice had grown quiet and alluring, making Henry want to lean closer. “Among other reasons, because you’re bold enough to ask such things.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I can tell that even though you’re decidedly against me and you don’t like me,” Henry paused, stepping forward and lowering his voice, “you alsodolike me.”

She gasped, leaning back as he closed in.

“And all I’m trying to do is break down the barrier to see which side is stronger.”

Her jaw dropped farther, and Henry was close enough to notice the blush that had overtaken her cheeks and crawled down her neck. There was something going on in that pretty little head of hers, and she was right; he was determined to pursue her. Until he figured her out or died trying, whichever came first.

“What are you two talking about over there?” Mrs. Dunn called.

“Nothing of consequence,” Miss Follett said quickly, standing from the piano and moving to join her. But the shawl slipped from one of Miss Follet’s shoulders, so Henry bent over to pick up the blue fabric that complemented her cream gown.

Just as he draped it over her arms, Miss Follett reached for it as well and her fingers covered his own, and she did not immediately pull back. She turned to look at him and when she found him directly beside her, she did not shy away. Her touch lingered as she met his gaze, her lips parting slightly, her dress rising and falling from her steady breath. Her eyes were dark, their brown depths calling out to him through lowered lashes. The mere sight of her so close and the gentle feel of her fingers on his hand was proving to be an alluring invitation.

And she knew it.

When she then released his hand and moved to sit next to Mrs. Dunn, Henry found himself speechless. Miss Follett knew exactly what she was doing. He’d never been seduced like this by a woman before, especially an innocent, but he was going to love every second. Whatever game she was playing, Henry was determined to play it to the very end.

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