“Please, drop theladyand just call me Louisa. I feel strange every time I hearladycoming from your lips.”Moreso now that they’ve touched mine.
He inclined his head, lips quirking. “Very well. Call me Oliver, then.”
Louisa couldn’t help a chuckle from escaping.
“What’s wrong? Do you not like my name?”
“No, it’s not like that.” She pursed her lips before saying, “It just seems like such a boyish name for a man such as you.”
“And what sort of man is that, Louisa?”
She shivered at the simple, clear, deliberate use of her name. “A formidable man.”
His amber eyes probed her. “Perhaps I am not that formidable.”
“Let us agree to disagree on that score,Oliver.”
A hint of a smile formed on his lips. “Let us do that, then.”
Heh. They truly were an unlikely pair, were they not? “No one recognized you, did they?” she asked, returning to more serious matters. Safer matters. Though, in themselves, they probably couldn’t be considered much safer. Especially if he had been recognized.
He shook his head. “No, no one that I could detect.”
What a relief. “Good. Papa is going to be so angry when he discovers that I came and then vanished before he could see me. Oh, yes—what time is it?”
He pulled out a pocket watch. “A few minutes before midnight.”
“Good, good.” Her mind spun. “Perhaps I can use the excuse of my birthday.”
Surprise lit his gaze. “It’s your birthday today?”
“Yes, for the next few minutes. Though I had forgotten about it.” Her head fell back to the carriage pillow. “I didn’t even have a slice of cake. Is it not funny how the little things matter when you least expect it?” She did get a kiss, however, so she wasn’t too unhappy.
“I’m sorry I cannot retrieve a slice for you, but I do wish you a happy birthday.”
Her eyes met his. “Thank you, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t celebrate my birthday, and I usually bake my own cake just for fun.”
“You make your own birthday cake? In the kitchen?” A slight lift in his brow. “Is that not celebrating?”
“So many questions, but yes, Mr. Duke, where else would I bake a cake other than a kitchen? It’s just something I like to do for myself. I like to spend that time alone.” Though on reflection, her arriving at the Havendish party and then leaving on her birthday might cause her father to be more suspicious than normal. Well, there was nothing she could do about it now.
“I just never considered you would be the sort of lady who would bake cakes, but in hindsight, thinking back, I shouldn’t be all that surprised.”
Hah! “I’ll have you know I do make delicious cakes.”
“Then I shall love to have a taste of it someday—if you allow me the privilege,” he added, his voice dropping low.
Taste . . .
Her gaze slid down to his lips.
She might not have a bite of cake, but could she have a bite of something else?
What are you even saying, now, Louisa?
“We shall see,” she murmured, distracted.
“Of course,” he responded. “Since I cannot give you cake, is there something else you would like for your birthday?”
