And then dropped.
And she watched, transfixed, until Hugh’s hands were entirely bare.
A shade of deep rose moved into her cheeks. He knew triumph when her shoulders rose just a little as she pulled in a subtle steadying breath.
She returned her eyes to his with evident effort.
He didn’t smile.
“He did oncespringupon a bear!” Delacorte said hopefully.
“It was the other way around,” Hugh said evenly.
This sentence naturally caused a startled silence in the room. Knitting needles went still.
Delacorte sucked in a breath to speak. “Tell the sto—”
“Another time, perhaps.”
Never had a silent conversation been louder than the one he was conducting with Lady Lillias Vaughn.
No one seemed to notice anything amiss. The ladies took up their knitting again, and Mrs. Pariseau gave her throat a clearing before she continued.
“Speaking of moral arbiters, surely a lady of your refined nature appreciates the care taken to maintain a civilized environment, Lady Lillias.” Hugh gestured at the epithet jar. “Not to mention protect your virgin ears from the stinging trauma of epithets.” He imbued every one of these deliberately chosen words with tender condescension.
She pressed her lips together and tilted her head, sympathetically. “Have you need of civilizing then, Mr. Cassidy? I suppose recognizing one’s deficiencies is the first step toward correcting them.” Her eyebrows met in concern.
He gave a little nod. “All Americans are feral. I thought you would know that, given your obvious knowledge of our habits, friends, and accents.”
“Cassidy is always a perfect gentleman,” Delacorte, who was listening, maintained loyally. “He is always very polite to the ladies in pubs who try to sit in his lap.”
Midway through this sentence Delilah had gracefully risen to pretend to adjust the ribbon in Lady Claire’s hair, and in so doing happened to casually slide her hands down to cover her ears.It clearly wasn’t the first time she’d needed to do that since the Vaughns had arrived.
She resumed her seat just as gracefully and took up her needles again, and Mrs. Pariseau cleared her throat and read on.
He was sorely tempted to laugh, but he didn’t want to miss a single twitch of Lady Lillias’s reaction. He kept her pinned in the beam of his gaze.
“How devastating it must be to be mistaken for furniture, Mr. Cassidy,” she said finally, on a grave hush, her eyebrows still canted sympathetically.
“On the contrary,” he said with silken matching gravity. “What’s a man’s body for if not to ensure a lady’s comfort and ease and safety? It’s in fact my honor and privilege to do so.”
A screen of caution moved over Lillias’s features.
He was aware of playing fast and loose with the line between impropriety and innuendo. That the ruthlessness he felt was perhaps out of proportion to the circumstance. He wanted to win, whatever that meant. Though it was clear that he might as well attempt to prove to a riptide that it had no pull at all.
“Well, the epithet jar is clearly having the intended civilizing effect upon you, Mr. Cassidy, if you’ve progressed so far as to put the comfort of... ladies... first,” she said ironically.
Was this a rebuke? He didn’t care. “How astute of you to notice. And you’ll be gratified to know that should anyone inadvertently utter an epithet in your presence, I’m certain Mrs. Hardy and Mrs. Durand could provide smelling salts. Or should something stronger seem necessary, I understand tobacco can be vivifying.”
This occasion marked the first time in his life he’d said the word “vivifying” out loud. He’d said it primarily in the hopes that she would stare at him fixedly and with animosity, as he suspected she would.
And she did.
Every angle of her was alarmingly interesting and good. Her eyes were pale silvery blue and her lashes were black. Losing his breath had never been so delicious.
“I’ve something in my case what will wake the dead, if it’s a good strong smell you’re after,” Delacorte volunteered brightly over his shoulder.
Lillias looked at him curiously. Then gave him a polite little smile.