so.”
“Where is your maid this evening?” he asked. “Flora, isn’t that her name?”
“Yes, Flory Tate. She’s visiting her sister. She has Tuesday nights off.”
“No wonder you thought Tuesday would be a good choice.” Will stretched one arm behind her along the back of the settee.
She jerked forward. “Quite so. Will you have some brandy?” She poured a generous glass.
“Certainly.”
She startled him by setting the full glass in front of herself, then filling another and handing it to him. A true lady served her guests first. A true lady would have had sherry, not brandy, and she wouldn’t take more than a few sips, at that. Will watched as she gulped a healthy swig of the amber liquid, seeing her throat move as she swallowed.
Here was a woman who knew what she liked, and wasn’t ashamed to take it. Some people would call it selfish or wicked, but to Will, it seemed very refreshing.
He took a drink himself. “It’s excellent,” he commented. The rich liquor was actually much better than he expected.
As she set her glass down, he thought he saw a slight tremble in her hand. “You’re cold,” he said and impulsively clasped her hand between both of his own.
Her green eyes widened, as if he surprised her. He looked down at her hand, with its slender, graceful fingers. “I was mistaken.” He half-laughed, releasing it. “You’re quite warm.”
“Yes. I am, thank you. I...what was it you were saying?”
“What? Oh, nothing. I was just saying it’s good brandy.”
“Ah.” She looked pleased. “I guessed that you would have refined tastes.”
“I flatter myself that I do.” He enjoyed the look of her.
“You flatter me, I think.”
Will loved the way she flirted without being simpering or silly. On the contrary, she had an intelligence and self-possession that one hardly expected from a woman in her walk of life. “I don’t know about that. I think I’m just being honest.”
“While we are being honest,” she said, “I think I best tell you that I do have certain conditions if we are to proceed with lessons.”
“Conditions?”
Jack mentioned some of his mistresses asking for extra gifts besides the money. If that was what Miss Bell wanted, well, he supposed she could have them. He had more money than he needed; he didn’t spend it on art and antiquities the way Coventry did, or have Jack’s habit of running up gambling debts.
“Yes. Just so you understand, I’m going to have to set the pace.”
“Very well,” Will agreed—then wondered what the Devil she meant.
Was she concerned about his stamina in bed? It had been a while, but he was fairly sure she wouldn’t be disappointed on that account.
“Excellent,” she went on. “Because you see...Well, I mean no offense to you, of course. But I cannot abide going to bed with a man who is not even well-versed in the preliminaries.”
Will didn’t like her serious tone. “The preliminaries. I’m not quite sure I follow...”
“Mr. Creighton. Do you realize how many men do not even know how to kiss properly?”
Did her cheek flush? No, of course she wasn’t blushing; she was the last woman in the world who would blush. Her complexion naturally held a hint of pink, something he noticed about her before.
“I don’t think you need to worry about that with me.” What a strange conversation to have. He hadn’t expected to discuss anything they would do. He supposed he thought they would just go off to bed.
In fact, that still seemed like a fairly good plan, but he was curious to see what she’d say next.
“Nonetheless, Mr. Creighton. It seems to me that in their rush to get their trousers off, men often pass by the first, more...subtle expressions of sensuality.” She looked at him sidelong, as if to ascertain whether he comprehended her.
“You mean...kissing. Touching,” he said.
“Precisely.”
Will shrugged. “I think that men simply don’t enjoy those, what did you call them,
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