A Taste for Scandal by Erin Knightley Page B

leather of his chair. It certainly did make him wonder.
    And not for the first time. He had danced with some of the most beautiful and seductive women in England tonight, and yet his thoughts kept straying to the straight-backed Miss Jane. Hell, if he hadn’t been so preoccupied with the woman, he wouldn’t be sitting in his room alone. No, he would be off enjoying the pleasurable diversions the sophisticated ladies of the ton offered.
    As a matter of fact, Theresa had been quite put out when he had not taken her up on her offer. Normally, he enjoyed Theresa’s company, but when he danced with her tonight, she just didn’t seem to tempt him. Perhaps he just had too much on his mind.
    He sighed, running a hand through his hair. No, that wasn’t it. The problem was, the fiery little baker had piqued his interest. If nothing else, she was certainly intriguing. She had spunk, and Lord knew the sparks flew like flint on steel when they were around each other. She was so completely different from any other woman of his acquaintance.
    And she could bake like an angel.
    He looked longingly toward the napkin holding the remaining nine biscuits, too far for him to reach without getting up. He really had acted the cad to the woman. Yes, she provoked him, but he was raised on manners and the art of social niceties the way others were raised on milk and bread. He could go to the shop and properly thank her for the biscuits. Show her that he really was a proper gentleman, and, being the bigger person, give her the opportunity to redeem herself as well.
    If he could procure another batch in the process, more the better.
    At the breakfast table the next morning, the whole room was abuzz with feminine chatter as his mother and sisters rehashed the events of the previous evening. With the marquis already gone to parliament, there was no getting around the topics at hand, so Richard merely smiled and nodded, letting his sisters have their fun.
    “The first waltz, Mama. The first !” Beatrice sat back dreamily, holding a muffin to her chest. “Lord Andrew could not have looked more dashing, and he smelled exactly as I hoped he would.”
    “Let me guess—sugarplums and blacking?” Richard asked innocently, reaching for his second scone.
    Carolyn giggled as Jocelyn sent him a withering look. “Don’t be silly. I bet he smelled of leather, sunshine, and confidence.”
    Beatrice set her muffin down and grinned. “He isn’t a racehorse, Jocelyn. Nor does he smell of sweets or boot polish, for goodness’ sake. He smelled like . . . perfection.”
    All three girls sighed, and Richard rolled his eyes. And to think, Beatrice was normally the most reasonable of his unmarried sisters. Debuting this Season seemed to be addling her normally sensible brain. And good Lord, he hoped females didn’t say such things about him over the breakfast table. Well, not unless they were suitably eligible and planning on seducing him in the near future. In that case, allowances could be made.
    As lovely as it was to be part of the gossip and dreamy sighs, he had a certain bakery to get to. Wolfing down the rest of his scone—which was somehow less delicious than he remembered—he grabbed a handful of dried fruit and rose with every intention of escape.
    “I have it on the best authority that you had a visitor last evening. Pray, tell us more.” Mother eyed him with interest.
    Bloody hell. He should have known she would find out. He finished chewing slowly as he thought of what to tell her. “Just the shopgirl who caused a bit of a pother yesterday, come round to apologize. She wasn’t here more than a minute or two.”
    “Oh?” The Eyebrow lifted. Damn—she knew more than she was saying.
    “She also dropped off a basket of baked goods.”
    “Were said baked goods laced with arsenic?”
    He was going to kill Evie, the meddling little wench. As the girls regarded him with rapt interest, he sent his mother a completely unrepentant smile. He