like a rake, a world-weary man who found life, and the path he negotiated through it, tiresome. Camille gave a gurgle of laughter. ‘Very good!’
Predictably, his mouth curved in a smile. ‘French ladies are very forward. I find your suggestions quite shocking.’
‘Oh, I do not think you do. Not really. Besides, it was you who told me I should act as I wished. I have decided to adopt a blunt and honest approach to conversational matters. It will make me unpopular at first, until they grow used to me, but after a time they will accept it.’
Tapscott paused and she stopped walking as well, half turning towards him. He tilted his head, regarding her thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know. You are dreadfully pretty and quite deliciously French, but the English are so stuffy about bluntness unless they are the ones that are uttering it. Then, of course, it is perfectly acceptable.’ He had put his hands on her shoulders, ostensibly so that he could view her upturned face better, but there was an intimacy in the gesture that made her grow suddenly still. He was very close, closer than most men had ever stood, with the exception of her husband and her father. So close that she could breathe him in. Camille discovered that she liked the scent of him. This man did not use perfume in his toilette and he smelt pleasantly male.
When he made no move to release her, merely staring down at her face, she took herself in hand and took a step back, pulling free of his hands. It was better than doing what she suddenly had a mind to; namely reach up a hand and touch his face. Or, even more disturbingly, stand on her tiptoes and press her lips to his. There was eccentric and there was shameless and both of these things undoubtedly fell into the later category.
‘Do not flirt with me,’ she was alarmed to hear how breathless she sounded, ‘for I am not the kind of woman that indulges herself with such things.’
For a moment longer he stared at her, his expression transfixed. After a moment, he seemed to shake himself out of it and the smile returned although this time, it was a little strained. ‘Forgive me for contradicting you, but all ladies were designed for such things. It is one of the most delightful things about them. That and their ability to forgive a man all manner of nonsense.’ The words were flippant, but there was an undertone that told a different story. Abruptly, Camille turned and began to walk again and he fell into step beside her once more. There was silence for a time. Unsurprisingly, it was his lordship that broke it.
‘So how do you plan on filling in your days as the new lady at Kirkham Hall?’
Camille welcomed the shift in topic. ‘I am not sure. I would like to find a decent mount and ride. It has been a long time since I was able to enjoy myself in such a way. Apart from that, well, I suppose that people call on each other. I will probably have to entertain occasionally, if only to return the hospitality of others.’
There must have been something in her tone for he gave a soft laugh. ‘Is it so unappealing, then?’
‘No. Oh no, I did not mean to make it sound so,’ she sighed. ‘It is just this is all so inconnu, so different, you understand? The people, they are very nice. Very kind. It will just take me a little while to adjust. How long do you intend to remain as Mr. Morosett’s guest,’ she added curiously. Apparently his lordship had been in the area for a little over two weeks, a long stay for a man who admitted he only had acquaintances in the area. Although, if he had visited Ned, perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. She was increasingly bewildered as to what his lordship was about. Bewildered and curious. Mr. Morosett, his own host, obviously did not know him particularly well and had appeared far from enthusiastic about Lord Tapscott’s continuing presence. What was the man about?
‘A little time yet. It is a place that holds my interest.’
‘Because of the archeology.’
Predictably, his mouth curved in a smile. ‘French ladies are very forward. I find your suggestions quite shocking.’
‘Oh, I do not think you do. Not really. Besides, it was you who told me I should act as I wished. I have decided to adopt a blunt and honest approach to conversational matters. It will make me unpopular at first, until they grow used to me, but after a time they will accept it.’
Tapscott paused and she stopped walking as well, half turning towards him. He tilted his head, regarding her thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know. You are dreadfully pretty and quite deliciously French, but the English are so stuffy about bluntness unless they are the ones that are uttering it. Then, of course, it is perfectly acceptable.’ He had put his hands on her shoulders, ostensibly so that he could view her upturned face better, but there was an intimacy in the gesture that made her grow suddenly still. He was very close, closer than most men had ever stood, with the exception of her husband and her father. So close that she could breathe him in. Camille discovered that she liked the scent of him. This man did not use perfume in his toilette and he smelt pleasantly male.
When he made no move to release her, merely staring down at her face, she took herself in hand and took a step back, pulling free of his hands. It was better than doing what she suddenly had a mind to; namely reach up a hand and touch his face. Or, even more disturbingly, stand on her tiptoes and press her lips to his. There was eccentric and there was shameless and both of these things undoubtedly fell into the later category.
‘Do not flirt with me,’ she was alarmed to hear how breathless she sounded, ‘for I am not the kind of woman that indulges herself with such things.’
For a moment longer he stared at her, his expression transfixed. After a moment, he seemed to shake himself out of it and the smile returned although this time, it was a little strained. ‘Forgive me for contradicting you, but all ladies were designed for such things. It is one of the most delightful things about them. That and their ability to forgive a man all manner of nonsense.’ The words were flippant, but there was an undertone that told a different story. Abruptly, Camille turned and began to walk again and he fell into step beside her once more. There was silence for a time. Unsurprisingly, it was his lordship that broke it.
‘So how do you plan on filling in your days as the new lady at Kirkham Hall?’
Camille welcomed the shift in topic. ‘I am not sure. I would like to find a decent mount and ride. It has been a long time since I was able to enjoy myself in such a way. Apart from that, well, I suppose that people call on each other. I will probably have to entertain occasionally, if only to return the hospitality of others.’
There must have been something in her tone for he gave a soft laugh. ‘Is it so unappealing, then?’
‘No. Oh no, I did not mean to make it sound so,’ she sighed. ‘It is just this is all so inconnu, so different, you understand? The people, they are very nice. Very kind. It will just take me a little while to adjust. How long do you intend to remain as Mr. Morosett’s guest,’ she added curiously. Apparently his lordship had been in the area for a little over two weeks, a long stay for a man who admitted he only had acquaintances in the area. Although, if he had visited Ned, perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. She was increasingly bewildered as to what his lordship was about. Bewildered and curious. Mr. Morosett, his own host, obviously did not know him particularly well and had appeared far from enthusiastic about Lord Tapscott’s continuing presence. What was the man about?
‘A little time yet. It is a place that holds my interest.’
‘Because of the archeology.’
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