Barbara Metzger by The Wicked Ways of a True Hero (prc) Page B
Authors: The Wicked Ways of a True Hero (prc)
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spell. His coat was unbuttoned, and his waistcoat was missing altogether. He wore his scuffed boots, with an attempt at polish on them now, instead of the old-fashioned buckle shoes hed worn to dinner. Somehow he looked better in this disarray than tightly trussed in what she understood to be his fathers clothes.
No, he looked like hed just left a ladys bedchamber. Corie was mortified by such wayward thoughts, and hoped the dim candlelight could hide her blushes. Embarrassed, she couldnt think of anything to say that wouldnt reinforce his belief she was a shameless hussy, battening on his mothers generosity.
An awkward silence fell. He kept staring at her hair and the place where her modesty wrap had been and her bare toes, the unmannered boor. No matter that she kept looking at his broad shoulders and bare neck. What, did he think she was a doxy to be inspected before purchase? She refused to walk back to where her slippers waited beside her chair, to sit and lace their ribbons in front of him like a doxy in truth.
She recalled the decanter. Would you like a glass?
Daniel swallowed the lump in his throat. Damn, hed warned his mother he couldnt make conversation with proper women, and here was the proof. They all looked at him like hed clambered out from under a rock, the way Miss Corisande Abbott was grimacing at him now. No. That is, yes. Just the thing. Um, theres a chill in here. Deuced good taste in liquor, my uncle.
Lady Cora had hinted the brandy and other bottles in the vast wine cellar might be contraband. Coming from the coast, Corie knew all about smuggling. I dont suppose any of it has seen an excise label.
Daniel shrugged.
No wonder he seemed as tongue-tied as she did, Corie thought. Shed practically labeled his uncle, an adviser to the throne and the high courts, as a criminal. Anything he said could incriminate the earl. She was an idiot.
She found a glass, but couldnt decide how high to fill it. The last thing she wanted was to make Mr. Stamfield inebriated, or make him linger over his drink. She poured a tiny amount and brought it to him, then nervously picked up the fichu and twisted it in her hands.
Instead of drinking it all at once as she expected, he took a slow sip. Then he put the glass down.
Was he going to attack her? He was a beast who already considered her a fallen woman. And he was breathing heavily. Corie looked around for a possible weapon.
Daniel looked around for a possible escape.
They both said they ought to be going, at the same time, but neither made a move toward the door.
Another silence filled the room.
Corie did not want to leave before him, not when shed have to collect her hairpins and shoes and the gloves shed tossed across the room. Heavens, she could not leave her apparel strewn around the parlor for the maids to find in the morning, or Mr. Dobbson now. Speculation would fly like a swarm of wasps.
Daniel did not want to leave before her, to wonder all night if she was seducing old Dobbson in the dark. I, uh, wanted to apologize again for my earlier words. You are welcome here if
If? There was ice in the word.
Daniel did not know how to politely phrase his condition, so he picked up the white lace gloves he spotted on the floor. Instead of bringing them to her, he stared at the wispy things as if they had answers, or eloquence. They were simply spotless and tiny. He couldnt imagine a sillier accessory, for theyd never keep her hands warm or dry. Theyd only get in the way of any delicate work, as far as he could see, so their only purpose was to fulfill another of societys stupid conventions. Like how a mans and womans skin should never touch, like how he shouldnt be alone in the room with an unmarried female of expectations. He almost choked on the ramifications if a stranger saw them like this, their clothing disordered, their hair loose. Lord,
No, he looked like hed just left a ladys bedchamber. Corie was mortified by such wayward thoughts, and hoped the dim candlelight could hide her blushes. Embarrassed, she couldnt think of anything to say that wouldnt reinforce his belief she was a shameless hussy, battening on his mothers generosity.
An awkward silence fell. He kept staring at her hair and the place where her modesty wrap had been and her bare toes, the unmannered boor. No matter that she kept looking at his broad shoulders and bare neck. What, did he think she was a doxy to be inspected before purchase? She refused to walk back to where her slippers waited beside her chair, to sit and lace their ribbons in front of him like a doxy in truth.
She recalled the decanter. Would you like a glass?
Daniel swallowed the lump in his throat. Damn, hed warned his mother he couldnt make conversation with proper women, and here was the proof. They all looked at him like hed clambered out from under a rock, the way Miss Corisande Abbott was grimacing at him now. No. That is, yes. Just the thing. Um, theres a chill in here. Deuced good taste in liquor, my uncle.
Lady Cora had hinted the brandy and other bottles in the vast wine cellar might be contraband. Coming from the coast, Corie knew all about smuggling. I dont suppose any of it has seen an excise label.
Daniel shrugged.
No wonder he seemed as tongue-tied as she did, Corie thought. Shed practically labeled his uncle, an adviser to the throne and the high courts, as a criminal. Anything he said could incriminate the earl. She was an idiot.
She found a glass, but couldnt decide how high to fill it. The last thing she wanted was to make Mr. Stamfield inebriated, or make him linger over his drink. She poured a tiny amount and brought it to him, then nervously picked up the fichu and twisted it in her hands.
Instead of drinking it all at once as she expected, he took a slow sip. Then he put the glass down.
Was he going to attack her? He was a beast who already considered her a fallen woman. And he was breathing heavily. Corie looked around for a possible weapon.
Daniel looked around for a possible escape.
They both said they ought to be going, at the same time, but neither made a move toward the door.
Another silence filled the room.
Corie did not want to leave before him, not when shed have to collect her hairpins and shoes and the gloves shed tossed across the room. Heavens, she could not leave her apparel strewn around the parlor for the maids to find in the morning, or Mr. Dobbson now. Speculation would fly like a swarm of wasps.
Daniel did not want to leave before her, to wonder all night if she was seducing old Dobbson in the dark. I, uh, wanted to apologize again for my earlier words. You are welcome here if
If? There was ice in the word.
Daniel did not know how to politely phrase his condition, so he picked up the white lace gloves he spotted on the floor. Instead of bringing them to her, he stared at the wispy things as if they had answers, or eloquence. They were simply spotless and tiny. He couldnt imagine a sillier accessory, for theyd never keep her hands warm or dry. Theyd only get in the way of any delicate work, as far as he could see, so their only purpose was to fulfill another of societys stupid conventions. Like how a mans and womans skin should never touch, like how he shouldnt be alone in the room with an unmarried female of expectations. He almost choked on the ramifications if a stranger saw them like this, their clothing disordered, their hair loose. Lord,
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