her breathing coming easier now that Northam's mission was accomplished. She could not have said that she found his presence uncomfortable when he had first entered the library, but now that he was preparing to leave, she knew for a fact that it was true.
Northam did not set off for the door, however, but approached the dark walnut desk instead. "Will you send my regards to the colonel?" he asked.
"Of course." She made no effort to pick up the quill.
"Shall I wait and escort you back to your room?"
That was the last thing she wanted. Evenly she said, "It is not necessary. I know my way much better than you."
"Then perhaps you would be my escort?"
Elizabeth shook her head, her smile a trifle forced. "That would not be seemly, my lord. Someone might attach the wrong meaning to our association. You are adequately attired." Indeed, he had not changed from his tailored evening jacket and trousers. "While I..." Her voice trailed off because modesty forbade her from calling attention to her nightclothes. Unconsciously her hands tightened on the tails of her shawl.
"While you are very much in the common mode for this late hour," he finished for her. "I understand." Still, he hesitated. He studied her raised face, the fine curve of her brow and cheek, the more strongly etched curve of her mouth. Her eyes, almond-shaped and nearly a perfect match for her gold and brown hair, were her most arresting feature, but only if he did not allow himself to gaze below the prim neckline of her nightshift or refine on what was hidden beneath her flannel shawl. "I wonder if you would ride at my side at the hunt tomorrow?"
She blinked up at him, the invitation outside of anything she expected to hear. For a moment she could not speak. Finally her voice came coolly. "I am flattered at the honor you—"
"It is an invitation to ride, Lady Elizabeth, not a proposal of marriage."
If Elizabeth had been standing, she would have taken a step backward. As it was, the lightly mocking tone pinned her back into the chair. It was on occasions such as this that Elizabeth had cause to remember she was every inch of her the Earl of Rosemont's daughter. "I should accept your offer," she began, "for the pleasure of making you regret it. I will restrain myself, however, not because you don't deserve it, but because it is not worthy of me. In any event you will find my seat on a horse as singularly lacking as my talent for painting. It is on those grounds that I must decline your invitation, my lord."
"A fine, cutting riposte," Northam said in the neutral tones of an observer, not the target. He hitched one hip on the corner of the desk and laid down his books. Crossing his arms in front of him, his posture casual yet somehow challenging, he continued. "I assure you, I will be vastly entertained by your attempts to make me regret my request, for I find your company, even at its most provoking, is more to my liking than that of any other number of your sex I could name." He gave her no chance to insert a single word, though he thought she was warming nicely to an entire harangue. "As for it not being worthy of you, I concede your point. Your sensibilities are far more refined than mine, so I understand your reluctance to extend yourself on my account. Your point of refusal, though, is a transparent piece of work. You cannot pretend that you were in the least offended this afternoon when I commented on your lack of talent for watercolors. Not when you so clearly found it amusing—and true. Lastly, as to the matter of your seat, I had reason to observe you riding back to the keep and I could find no cause for any sentiment save admiration. Lady Battenburn also informed me that you are an accomplished horsewoman."
"You spoke of me to her?" she asked incredulously.
Northam remained unperturbed. "I believe her ladyship saw the direction of my interest and was moved to comment."
Elizabeth doubted the baroness had confined herself to a mere comment. She saw now
Northam did not set off for the door, however, but approached the dark walnut desk instead. "Will you send my regards to the colonel?" he asked.
"Of course." She made no effort to pick up the quill.
"Shall I wait and escort you back to your room?"
That was the last thing she wanted. Evenly she said, "It is not necessary. I know my way much better than you."
"Then perhaps you would be my escort?"
Elizabeth shook her head, her smile a trifle forced. "That would not be seemly, my lord. Someone might attach the wrong meaning to our association. You are adequately attired." Indeed, he had not changed from his tailored evening jacket and trousers. "While I..." Her voice trailed off because modesty forbade her from calling attention to her nightclothes. Unconsciously her hands tightened on the tails of her shawl.
"While you are very much in the common mode for this late hour," he finished for her. "I understand." Still, he hesitated. He studied her raised face, the fine curve of her brow and cheek, the more strongly etched curve of her mouth. Her eyes, almond-shaped and nearly a perfect match for her gold and brown hair, were her most arresting feature, but only if he did not allow himself to gaze below the prim neckline of her nightshift or refine on what was hidden beneath her flannel shawl. "I wonder if you would ride at my side at the hunt tomorrow?"
She blinked up at him, the invitation outside of anything she expected to hear. For a moment she could not speak. Finally her voice came coolly. "I am flattered at the honor you—"
"It is an invitation to ride, Lady Elizabeth, not a proposal of marriage."
If Elizabeth had been standing, she would have taken a step backward. As it was, the lightly mocking tone pinned her back into the chair. It was on occasions such as this that Elizabeth had cause to remember she was every inch of her the Earl of Rosemont's daughter. "I should accept your offer," she began, "for the pleasure of making you regret it. I will restrain myself, however, not because you don't deserve it, but because it is not worthy of me. In any event you will find my seat on a horse as singularly lacking as my talent for painting. It is on those grounds that I must decline your invitation, my lord."
"A fine, cutting riposte," Northam said in the neutral tones of an observer, not the target. He hitched one hip on the corner of the desk and laid down his books. Crossing his arms in front of him, his posture casual yet somehow challenging, he continued. "I assure you, I will be vastly entertained by your attempts to make me regret my request, for I find your company, even at its most provoking, is more to my liking than that of any other number of your sex I could name." He gave her no chance to insert a single word, though he thought she was warming nicely to an entire harangue. "As for it not being worthy of you, I concede your point. Your sensibilities are far more refined than mine, so I understand your reluctance to extend yourself on my account. Your point of refusal, though, is a transparent piece of work. You cannot pretend that you were in the least offended this afternoon when I commented on your lack of talent for watercolors. Not when you so clearly found it amusing—and true. Lastly, as to the matter of your seat, I had reason to observe you riding back to the keep and I could find no cause for any sentiment save admiration. Lady Battenburn also informed me that you are an accomplished horsewoman."
"You spoke of me to her?" she asked incredulously.
Northam remained unperturbed. "I believe her ladyship saw the direction of my interest and was moved to comment."
Elizabeth doubted the baroness had confined herself to a mere comment. She saw now
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