“No,” Charity allowed as she put aside the rest of the books, braced her elbow upon the arm of the sofa, and cupped her cheek in her hand. “But she could have refused a call. It’s entirely permissible to decline the furtherance of an undesirable acquaintance. And since she has not done so, we may safely assume she found your company unobjectionable.”
Unobjectionable. Just what every man hoped to be to a potential future spouse. But he supposed, if he were honest with himself, then he had found her the same. Unobjectionable. A pleasant companion. A proficient conversationalist. “I had hoped,” he said, “that there would be…something more. A spark, I suppose. Or a—a—”
“A bolt from the blue,” Charity suggested.
“Something like that.” But beggars could not be choosers. His options were rather limited at present. Lady Cecily, to her credit, had not stricken him straight off.
“I’m given to understand,” she said, “that a love that grows over time is often made of stronger stuff than a love that claps one over the head at firstsight.”
“And you have some experience with this?”
“No; never.” She gave a light laugh and a gamine shrug. “But my last benefactor, whom I believe you have had the dubious pleasure of meeting, certainly did not love his wife when they married. You’d never know it to see them together now, however.Besottedis not quite the word I’d use, not for someone like Chris…” She tapped the point of her chin with her index finger in consideration. “But it comes close enough, I think. They genuinely adore one another. And my half-sister, Mercy—well, she and her husband were at one another’s throats for yearsbefore they wed, and now they are revoltingly devoted to one another.”
“Revoltingly?” A laugh caught somewhere in his throat, startled at the description.
“Well, it isrevolting on occasion, when one must bear witness to such tedious activity as the rubbing of noses or the utterly unnecessary cooing of love words.” She shuddered, pulling a moue of distaste. “I’ve not got a romantic bone in my body,” she declared.
“You have never felt fondness for any of your lovers?”
“Oh, fondness, certainly. Chris and I remain friends. But I have never been so foolish as to mistake a business arrangement for love, nor have I yet met the man capable of sweeping me off of my feet when they are so firmly planted upon the ground.”
“That’s a shame. I think I’d rather enjoy being revoltingly in love.” Particularly because it implied that there would be someone in it with him.
“We will find you someone with whom to be revoltingly in love,” Charity assured him. “But do give Lady Cecily a decent chance, won’t you? Perhaps you will experience it with her as your acquaintance furthers—that bolt from the blue. Perhaps one day you’ll be sitting across from her in her drawing room during a morning call, and you will simply feel it.”
“Perhaps I will.” He tried for a smile at the gentle encouragement, but suspected he had fallen somewhat short. “Suppose I should be so afflicted—and she should not.”
Charity snickered. There was no mockery to it; only a mild amusement, as if he had told an excessively witty joke. “Come now,” she said, and she reached out to pat his knee. “We need only make you London’s greatest lover, and as such, irresistible.”
Anthony gave a muted huff of laughter. “London’s greatest lover,” he repeated wryly. “You say it as if it is an attainable goal.”
“Oh, it is,” she said. “Take it from someone with the experience toknow: Men too often have unjustifiably high opinions of themselves, and there are far too many women who are too naïve, too unpracticed to know to expect any better. But you—you have the willingness to learn, to be taught. Already that puts you well ahead of the competition.”
How odd. “Does it, truly?”
“Of a certainty. Here, I’ll show you what I mean,” she said, and turned in her seat to face him. “Kiss me.”
∞∞∞
“Kissyou?” Captain Sharp echoed. “Just like that?”
“Yes, just like that.” She might have chuckled at the expression of utter bewilderment upon his face, except that she suspected he did not know he was wearing it and might infer some sort of offense where none had been intended. “You did want to learn, did you not? How to be a competent lover?”
“I did.” A swallow rolled down his throat; a visible indicator of his anxiety. Not reticence—but the fear of censure, of judgment. “I do,” he said, this time with some conviction behind the words. “I don’t think I quite know how to begin.”
“That’s all right,” she said. “Here, now, close your eyes.”
“Eye,” he corrected mildly, the shred of a sheepish smile clinging to the right-hand corner of his mouth.
“A figure of speech. Close your eye, then, if it pleases you.” And when he did, she slid closer, letting him feel the light pressure of her shoulder against his. “Imagine,” she said, “you are riding in a carriage with your lover—”
“Alone?”
“Yes, of course, alone. Had you imagined you could kiss a woman in the presence of her guardian or chaperone without courting scandal?” She nudged him with her shoulder. “Perhaps it is your wedding day; your first moment of true privacy.”
His brows pinched together in consternation. “She’s past the age where she would require a chaperone.”
Charity rolled her eyes. “Nevertheless, still she has got a reputation to protect. You might succeed in stealing a kiss prior to marriage—but only if youare very discreet. Now hush; I am setting the scene.”
