A Summer Seduction by Candace Camp Page B

had formed between her eyes.
    Damaris felt the muscles in her forehead relax. She had not even realized that she was frowning. His gentle gesture madeher feel foolishly like bursting into tears. She looked down, swallowing the impulse. “Thank you. You are very kind.”
    “Let me see you home.” He took her arm, turning her back around and moving down the walkway alongside her.
    “It really isn’t necessary…”
    “Nonsense. I brought you here; I will escort you back.”
    Damaris gave in and tucked her hand into his arm. The truth was, it was easier not to think of the scene with Lady Sedbury now that Rawdon was with her. He tended to crowd out all thoughts of anything besides himself.
    “I spoke the truth, did I not?” he asked, and when she looked at him quizzically, he added, “About the men lining up to sign your dance card.”
    “Oh.” She smiled. “Yes. I would almost think that you urged them to it.”
    “Hardly. I am not known for my generosity.”
    “Come, now. I believe you are the same man who went out into a snowstorm last Christmas to hunt for Matthew.”
    He made a half shrug. “It was a matter of a child. Somewhat different from giving up my advantage where you are concerned.”
    “Your advantage?” Damaris could not resist a saucy smile up at him.
    “I already know you. That is an advantage, is it not?”
    “And now so do they.”
    He grinned. “Ah, but I know in which village you live.”
    She laughed. “True. Yet somehow I doubt that you—or any of them—will trek out to Chesley to call on me.”
    “’Tis most unfair of you to say so. I was just there.”
    “To see your godson,” she reminded him. “On your way to London.”
    “One trip can have multiple delights.”
    Damaris chuckled. “Very well, sir, you have bested me.”
    Rawdon raised his hand as they reached the cross street, and a hackney pulled over beside them. Rawdon helped Damaris step up into it, but when she turned to take her leave of him, she saw that he was climbing into the vehicle after her.
    “But what are you—”
    “I told you I could not let you leave unescorted. I shall see you to your house.”
    “No, that is too much trouble,” Damaris protested, but the driver had already set the carriage in motion.
    “Nonsense. ’Twill be only a short walk home, I’m sure.”
    “Yes, but you are neglecting your other guests.” When he shrugged, she said, “Your sister and grandmother surely will not be happy about that.”
    “I have already stayed at the thing longer than I normally do,” he told her lightly. “I am sure they will be well pleased with that.”
    He seemed to realize that his words had revealed perhaps more than he would have liked, for he glanced away, looking out the window. Damaris was content to sit in silence and study Rawdon’s profile. She remembered that her friend Thea had expressed surprise when Damaris had once described Lord Rawdon as a handsome man. He was not, of course, the very pattern card of male attractiveness that Gabriel Morecombe was. Lord Rawdon was unusual, with his soaringcheekbones and pale, shaggy hair and those striking blue eyes. Damaris was sure that there were women who found Rawdon more fierce than good-looking, cold rather than ardent.
    But Damaris was all too familiar with smooth, handsome men who spoke easily of passion and devotion. Weak men like her father. Scoundrels like Barrett Howard. Those who promised love one day and slipped away the next, leaving one with only sorrow to hold. Damaris was drawn to the strength in Alec’s face, the steady resolve beneath his cool exterior. He was the sort of man you could not forget once you’d met him.
    Apparently feeling her gaze, Rawdon turned to look at her, and he smiled. And when that rare event happened, Damaris thought, his face was more compelling than that of any man she had ever known.
    He escorted her to her front door, as he had promised, and surprised her by following her inside.
    “There is no