own.
“Now that I have you somewhat to myself, pray tell what you thought of my poem”
Ginny glanced up at him in surprise. How could she have forgotten? She saw a spark of something bordering on uncertainty in his eyes and owned she was surprised by that, as well. “I thought it perfectly glorious! And not only because it was written with myself in mind.”
“Oh?” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Are you so sure of yourself? It is rather presumptuous, is it not?”
“Do go on, Lord Crenshaw,” Ginny said with a fond smile. “I am persuaded the entire room, including Lady Derby, are all agog to know what is causing this uncharacteristic liveliness of expression in your face.”
He looked away. “Let us not speak of Lady Derby. Instead I shall dwell on your words of admiration for my freshman attempt at Shakespeare-like eclat”
Ginny knew it her most heartfelt desire to admire him excessively in every way, but she could hardly say so. “I have many more such words of praise, but first I believe we must, at the very least, sanction our attachment with a betrothal.” Ginny paused and bit her lip. She did not wish to be seen as a tiresome faultfinder and so sought to temper her words. “If I heard aright, there was some talk of the duke and his reaction to news of our betrothal rising above the babble of my weeping this afternoon. You must think me the most abominable blubberer. When I am a duchess, I promise I shall never weep”
“When you are duchess, you shall do as you very well please!” he admonished her with a frown.
Ginny gasped. “You did not glare so at Lady Derby when you danced with her. Indeed, you were smiling.”
Anthony smiled. “Yes, I was, just as I am now, but I was not in the least happy.”
“As you are now unhappy?” she asked with an arched eyebrow. “And I suppose I am to admire you for your talent for speaking while displaying every one of your teeth? Might you lessen your grimace a trifle in order to answer my question with regard to the duke?” It would be senseless in the extreme to add another query on top of that, one having to do with why he had scolded her and yet another having to do with whether or not he had ever known a duchess to cry.
He had the grace to look a bit discomfited by her words; then he pulled her tightly against his chest, preventing her a view of his face. “As for the duke, I had meant to speak with you upon that very subject when I called this afternoon”
Ginny, her ear pressed to his cravat, which smelled of shaving cream, fresh linen, and something warm and heady and unique to him, could feel his words rumbling in his chest as much as hear them. “I only wish my time had not been so wholly taken up by the Averys,” she replied, whereupon he bent his head to hers as if to better perceive her words.
Perhaps it was the deft ease with which he moved, as if there were no constraints between them, or perhaps it was how comfortable he seemed with his head poised so close to hers, but it was a particularly intimate gesture, too intimate for a pair who did not wish to give the impression they had spent much time in each other’s company. She shivered, both with delight and apprehension.
“Mayhap our conversation is better left until we are no longer dancing. People are beginning to take notice.” Lady Derby, in particular, was staring at them over the shoulder of her dancing partner at every opportunity, and it was clear from the glint in her eyes that she did not like what she saw. The way Anthony suddenly stiffened made Ginny think perhaps he had noticed, as well.
“Forgive me, Ginny, but I feel it would be best if I depart when this dance is over,” he said very low but loudly enough for her to hear without his head being but a hairbreadth away. “Might we continue this conversation tomorrow? Say, in the morning? But only if you are fully recovered from your late evening of dancing with every man in the room, as surely you shall,
“Now that I have you somewhat to myself, pray tell what you thought of my poem”
Ginny glanced up at him in surprise. How could she have forgotten? She saw a spark of something bordering on uncertainty in his eyes and owned she was surprised by that, as well. “I thought it perfectly glorious! And not only because it was written with myself in mind.”
“Oh?” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Are you so sure of yourself? It is rather presumptuous, is it not?”
“Do go on, Lord Crenshaw,” Ginny said with a fond smile. “I am persuaded the entire room, including Lady Derby, are all agog to know what is causing this uncharacteristic liveliness of expression in your face.”
He looked away. “Let us not speak of Lady Derby. Instead I shall dwell on your words of admiration for my freshman attempt at Shakespeare-like eclat”
Ginny knew it her most heartfelt desire to admire him excessively in every way, but she could hardly say so. “I have many more such words of praise, but first I believe we must, at the very least, sanction our attachment with a betrothal.” Ginny paused and bit her lip. She did not wish to be seen as a tiresome faultfinder and so sought to temper her words. “If I heard aright, there was some talk of the duke and his reaction to news of our betrothal rising above the babble of my weeping this afternoon. You must think me the most abominable blubberer. When I am a duchess, I promise I shall never weep”
“When you are duchess, you shall do as you very well please!” he admonished her with a frown.
Ginny gasped. “You did not glare so at Lady Derby when you danced with her. Indeed, you were smiling.”
Anthony smiled. “Yes, I was, just as I am now, but I was not in the least happy.”
“As you are now unhappy?” she asked with an arched eyebrow. “And I suppose I am to admire you for your talent for speaking while displaying every one of your teeth? Might you lessen your grimace a trifle in order to answer my question with regard to the duke?” It would be senseless in the extreme to add another query on top of that, one having to do with why he had scolded her and yet another having to do with whether or not he had ever known a duchess to cry.
He had the grace to look a bit discomfited by her words; then he pulled her tightly against his chest, preventing her a view of his face. “As for the duke, I had meant to speak with you upon that very subject when I called this afternoon”
Ginny, her ear pressed to his cravat, which smelled of shaving cream, fresh linen, and something warm and heady and unique to him, could feel his words rumbling in his chest as much as hear them. “I only wish my time had not been so wholly taken up by the Averys,” she replied, whereupon he bent his head to hers as if to better perceive her words.
Perhaps it was the deft ease with which he moved, as if there were no constraints between them, or perhaps it was how comfortable he seemed with his head poised so close to hers, but it was a particularly intimate gesture, too intimate for a pair who did not wish to give the impression they had spent much time in each other’s company. She shivered, both with delight and apprehension.
“Mayhap our conversation is better left until we are no longer dancing. People are beginning to take notice.” Lady Derby, in particular, was staring at them over the shoulder of her dancing partner at every opportunity, and it was clear from the glint in her eyes that she did not like what she saw. The way Anthony suddenly stiffened made Ginny think perhaps he had noticed, as well.
“Forgive me, Ginny, but I feel it would be best if I depart when this dance is over,” he said very low but loudly enough for her to hear without his head being but a hairbreadth away. “Might we continue this conversation tomorrow? Say, in the morning? But only if you are fully recovered from your late evening of dancing with every man in the room, as surely you shall,
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