“Well, I’ve been summoned, have I not?” she asked, tilting her head as her right hand fumbled with her skirts to temper her shaking fingers.
“Oh, but it’s yer choice. I daenae deal with lasses who are nae willing,” he said simply, the smirk still on his face. “I merely nudged. Then, ye responded.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Yes, she was annoyed. But not enough to leave a handsome, infuriating man alone in a dark corner.
Something fluttered in her chest, sudden and unwelcome. She blamed it on nerves, and perhaps the lemonade, which was all she’d managed to swallow. Her stomach had been too knotted to face food.
“I’m already regretting my decision,” she said softly, looking around the room.
“We’ve not even begun yet, Lady Elizabeth,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing at her as if assessing her.
Would she be strong enough for the next step? Brave enough?
“Tonight’s lesson is all about appearance,” he said.
Elizabeth stiffened, her brow knitting. That was unexpected andinsulting. Of all the faults that society found in her, her looks had never been a problem. If anything, she’d always been told she was pretty. Not dazzling, not a diamond of the first water, but objectively pleasant to look at.
“What exactly is wrong with my appearance, Your Grace?”
“Well, yer appearance does matter, it does,” he continued, as is he could not hear the shock in her voice. “It’s yer most vital weapon, lass, and ye need a weapon because courtship’s a war. Ye’ve got to ken how to seduce, or no one’ll cast ye a second glance,” he finished with a slight shrug.
Elizabeth’s jaw dropped, and a cold rush swept through her, draining the color from her cheeks.
Did he just say that?
Her heart quickened in a strange, reluctant flutter. His words were brash, unforgiving even, but beneath that, an undeniable truth. She fought to steady herself.
This is no time to feel flustered by a compliment.
“I—I beg your pardon?” she managed, voice trembling just slightly.
“Ye’re bonnie, that much I’m sure ye ken yerself,” he said softly, his voice dropping lower, almost a whisper.
Elizabeth’s breath caught. The compliment was unexpected, stirring something both thrilling and terrifying. Yet she forced herself to respond,remindingherself that this was a lesson, nothing more.
“Er, thank you?”
“However, ye might start wearin’ dresses that’ll show off yer figure to best effect,” he added casually.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise, and she crossed her arms instinctively, only to catch the sharp dip of his gaze tracing the curve of her bosom as it pressed against the fabric.
“What do you mean, to the best effect?” she asked, cheeks flushing, both startled and caught off guard by his boldness.
“Ye need dresses that’ll show off yer assets, just like that there,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, husky whisper as his gaze traced the curve with deliberate intent. “It’d be a sin not to tempt a man with what’s rightfully yours.”
“You’re a cad!” she gasped.
“Perhaps I am,” he admitted shamelessly. “However, I’m a cad who kens how men think, and what they’re after. Do ye really want to get married, or is yer true goal to steer clear of it altogether?”
Elizabeth stood silent for a moment, caught between shock and reluctant agreement.
As crude as his words were, there was truth to them. The men of the ton were not easily won by beauty alone; they craved more—the promise behind the face. She was buxom for someone of her slender frame, yet her gowns were always as modest as a nun’s habit, hiding every curve rather than celebrating them.
“All right, then, Your Grace,” she muttered, feeling a little resigned. After all, she’d agreed to this lesson. “What else must I do?”
He regarded her thoughtfully, lowering himself slightly on bent knees to meet her gaze eye to eye.
“Yer eyes. Big and blue and like a man could—” He caught himself visibly, stepping back a pace. His gaze roamed over her once more before he continued, “Use them to make a man feel like he’s the only one in the world for ye. It’s all in the way ye look at him.”