“Madam Rebecca has limited titles. I thought you might enjoy these.”
Agatha picked up the package wrapped in plain brown paper, its weight revealing several books inside. “These are precious,” she said softly.
Memories flooded back—her mother reading with her in the meadows or by the seaside, teaching her from their single cherished book,Robinson Crusoe. They had read it repeatedly during the summer when she was eight. “I will take good care of these and return them as soon as I am done.”
“You may keep them.”
Agatha’s heart lurched and her eyes widened. “Keep them? But books are expensive.”
“I have hundreds in my library.”
She was astonished. “You have a personal library? And it hashundredsof titles?”
“Yes.”
Agatha could barely imagine a shelf lined with hundreds of books, all owned by one person. She bit her lip, wondering if the earl would allow her to see it. “Thank you, your ki—”
“I am not being kind,” he cut in, his tone clipped. “I have already read them.”
A smile tugged at her lips, but she kept her amusement to herself.
“Are you ready for the next lesson?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“First, show me what you have learned. Rebecca mentioned how hard you have been practicing and how impressed she waswith your progress. It seemed several of the ladies here pitched in to offer lessons.”
“Yes. However, most of the time was spent with Bea and Ellen.”
“What have they been teaching?”
Agatha wrinkled her nose, hating the sudden nerves attacking her. “It is possible to entice a man from how you walk and peek at him. And the first touch against his body can communicate your intent.”
“Show me.”
His voice was calm but laced with something darker, more intense. Was he anticipating her touch? The thought startled her, but in a way, it felt ... right.
She squared her shoulders and moved toward him. Agatha wanted to scowl. Her heart was beating too fast. She reached his side, brushing her fingers across the cravat at his throat. Agatha became aware of the closeness and heat between their bodies, the firm grip of his hand on hers, his rousing masculine scent. She trailed her fingers down to his shoulder and arm. A quick peek from beneath her lashes, as Bea showed her, revealed a faintly sardonic expression.
She frowned, sensing she was failing.
The earl moved, and his gloveless fingers at her inner elbow felt like they opened pathways of sensations within Agatha’s body. She swallowed, suppressing the feeling. This is how she was to make people feel, but from the icy, detached look in his eyes, Lord Radbourne was immune to her at this moment. A blush crept up her neck to set her cheeks aflame.
“I failed,” she said softly. “You are unmoved.”
“Again,” he said, tone clipped. “Take a deep breath. You are beautiful. You are confident ... and when you let him catch your gaze—if he cannot look away—you have captured somethingwithin him, and it is that thread you follow. Confidence has its own allure.”
Agatha took a deep breath and stepped back, creating a respectable distance between them.
Confidence is alluring?
She analyzed the sensations prickling over her skin, all ignited by his presence. Even at this distance, she was acutely aware of Thomas. Try as she might, she couldn’t ignore her body’s reaction to him. Did he feel nothing of the sort? Was this attraction one-sided? That, she supposed, was a lesson in itself—the man who won her might not stir any feelings of want within her at all. The notion startled her, but it was entirely possible, for no one else had ever affected her as the earl did.
Agatha narrowed her gaze, studying him. What drew her so much? A humorless smile played on his lips as he looked back, and she took in his aquiline nose, fierce cheekbones, and hair dark as a raven’s wing. He was uncommonly handsome, and though a ruthless strength emanated from him, she knew of his quiet patienceand kindness.
Perhaps this ruthless assurance was his unshakable confidence, a quality that made him even more fascinating.
“Oh, I see,” she murmured.
