ability to destroy her evening if he chose to.
Lord Swanfield paused to pull her chair out and then retreated to the opposite side of the table so that he faced her. “Is Miss Emily joining us?”
“No. She is remaining at Knowles Hall for at least another week preparing for her debut,” Lisette said. “The place is set for my brother, but he rarely dines with us.”
“I’m not sure I’ve met your brother, Miss Ross.”
Her father laughed. “Christian is adept at avoiding social activities. But he is hard to miss. He bears a striking likeness to Lisette. They are twins.”
“Is that so?” Lord Swanfield’s keen gaze considered her. “Come to think of it, I might have caught a glimpse of him at your ball.”
Lisette’s heart gave an uncomfortable thump. She could only assume he’d met Christian at some point at the pleasure house. She hoped his impression was vague and that he wasn’t about to make a connection that would lead to trouble.
To her relief, the meal proceeded amicably enough, her father making most of the small talk as Lord Swanfield’s replies tended to be short and to the point. She contributed her part as well, played the silly society woman to the hilt, a role she’d come to loathe, a reputation she wished she’d never encouraged.
“I have something for you, Swanfield,” her father announced. “I found it in my study on my return from Knowles Hall. If you’ll both excuse me for a minute, I’ll go and fetch it for you.” He winked at Lisette and retreated, taking the lone footman stationed at the door with him.
Lisette put her wineglass down and stared at the tablecloth. Having Lord Swanfield sitting across from her was quite overwhelming and she was at a loss for what to say. She didn’t want him to see her as a chatty empty-headed twit, but all the conversational gambits that rose to her lips were stupid inanities and she didn’t like that at all. Her attraction for him was far more visceral and base; she didn’t want to talk to him, she wanted to touch him. She’d already noted he didn’t use strong cologne; only the scent of cigarillo smoke, saddle leather, andlemon soap drifted across the table to tantalize her senses, to make her yearn to lean over and stroke his cheek.
“Miss Ross.”
She looked up and he rose to his feet, reached across the table, and cupped her jaw in one of his hands. His mouth came down over hers, and she welcomed the fierce intimacy of his kiss, the savage heat of it, and even the implied possession. Before she could speak, he resumed his seat and her father returned with the footman bearing a small oil painting, which he presented to Lord Swanfield.
“Here you are, Swanfield. It’s a portrait of Wellington as a foal with his sire.”
Lisette was instantly forgotten as Lord Swanfield’s attention switched to the painting and he smiled. “Thank you, sir, I will treasure it.”
“You are welcome.” Philip resumed his seat and beckoned to the footman to pour him another glass of brandy. “Perhaps you would care to take a turn in the garden with my daughter, my lord? She loves the evening air.”
Lisette frowned repressively at her father, who simply continued to smile at her. “Perhaps Lord Swanfield would prefer to stay inside and discuss horses with you?”
“Oh no, a breath of fresh air would be very welcome, Miss Ross.” Lord Swanfield pushed back his chair and stood up. He offered her his arm. “Shall we proceed?”
She moved around the table to stand next to him, and realized again how tall he was when she had to look up. Her father gestured at the French doors leading out of the dining room. “You can access the garden from here. I’ll make sure the staff doesn’t lock you out.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Lisette waited while the footman deftly unlocked the double doors and then she stepped outside into the fragrant garden. Spring flowers were in bloom and her kid slippers sunk into thesoft green grass as if it were a
Lord Swanfield paused to pull her chair out and then retreated to the opposite side of the table so that he faced her. “Is Miss Emily joining us?”
“No. She is remaining at Knowles Hall for at least another week preparing for her debut,” Lisette said. “The place is set for my brother, but he rarely dines with us.”
“I’m not sure I’ve met your brother, Miss Ross.”
Her father laughed. “Christian is adept at avoiding social activities. But he is hard to miss. He bears a striking likeness to Lisette. They are twins.”
“Is that so?” Lord Swanfield’s keen gaze considered her. “Come to think of it, I might have caught a glimpse of him at your ball.”
Lisette’s heart gave an uncomfortable thump. She could only assume he’d met Christian at some point at the pleasure house. She hoped his impression was vague and that he wasn’t about to make a connection that would lead to trouble.
To her relief, the meal proceeded amicably enough, her father making most of the small talk as Lord Swanfield’s replies tended to be short and to the point. She contributed her part as well, played the silly society woman to the hilt, a role she’d come to loathe, a reputation she wished she’d never encouraged.
“I have something for you, Swanfield,” her father announced. “I found it in my study on my return from Knowles Hall. If you’ll both excuse me for a minute, I’ll go and fetch it for you.” He winked at Lisette and retreated, taking the lone footman stationed at the door with him.
Lisette put her wineglass down and stared at the tablecloth. Having Lord Swanfield sitting across from her was quite overwhelming and she was at a loss for what to say. She didn’t want him to see her as a chatty empty-headed twit, but all the conversational gambits that rose to her lips were stupid inanities and she didn’t like that at all. Her attraction for him was far more visceral and base; she didn’t want to talk to him, she wanted to touch him. She’d already noted he didn’t use strong cologne; only the scent of cigarillo smoke, saddle leather, andlemon soap drifted across the table to tantalize her senses, to make her yearn to lean over and stroke his cheek.
“Miss Ross.”
She looked up and he rose to his feet, reached across the table, and cupped her jaw in one of his hands. His mouth came down over hers, and she welcomed the fierce intimacy of his kiss, the savage heat of it, and even the implied possession. Before she could speak, he resumed his seat and her father returned with the footman bearing a small oil painting, which he presented to Lord Swanfield.
“Here you are, Swanfield. It’s a portrait of Wellington as a foal with his sire.”
Lisette was instantly forgotten as Lord Swanfield’s attention switched to the painting and he smiled. “Thank you, sir, I will treasure it.”
“You are welcome.” Philip resumed his seat and beckoned to the footman to pour him another glass of brandy. “Perhaps you would care to take a turn in the garden with my daughter, my lord? She loves the evening air.”
Lisette frowned repressively at her father, who simply continued to smile at her. “Perhaps Lord Swanfield would prefer to stay inside and discuss horses with you?”
“Oh no, a breath of fresh air would be very welcome, Miss Ross.” Lord Swanfield pushed back his chair and stood up. He offered her his arm. “Shall we proceed?”
She moved around the table to stand next to him, and realized again how tall he was when she had to look up. Her father gestured at the French doors leading out of the dining room. “You can access the garden from here. I’ll make sure the staff doesn’t lock you out.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Lisette waited while the footman deftly unlocked the double doors and then she stepped outside into the fragrant garden. Spring flowers were in bloom and her kid slippers sunk into thesoft green grass as if it were a
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