forthe disguise of their patrons,” Carlisle said. “Be ready when I call. I will manage everything.”
Reggie laid a hand on Carlisle’s sleeve. “Thank you, Clay. I know I can trust you to take the best care of me.”
He lifted her gloved hand, turned it over, and pressed a kiss to her palm. “You are precious to me in more ways than you can possibly imagine, my dear.”
“Oh.” She felt the heat of his breath again, this time on her flesh beneath the glove. She stood frozen, unable to move, unable to retrieve her hand or to offer him her lips as she had the undeniable urge to do. She could not ask for a more perfect suitor.
But he could not possibly be perfect. No man was perfect. She noticed a flaw in his perfection—and reached out to brush back the stray lock of dark hair that had fallen onto his forehead.
Reggie suddenly realized what she was doing and jerked her hand away. “Please forgive me,” she said. “I don’t know why I did that.”
He stared at her, his dark eyes burning with some strong, frightening emotion she could not name. “There is nothing to forgive,” he said at last. “Shall we return to the box?”
Reggie did not want the interlude to end, but she knew it was perilous to stay where she was. It was too private, and there was a tension between them now that had not been there before. “Of course,” she agreed.
She tried to enjoy the rest of Sheridan’s comedy, but her thoughts kept straying to her engagement with the earl on the morrow. The evening’s entertainment at a gaming hell would offer her the opportunity to evaluateCarlisle on more than one count, but it was also risky because she did not have a plan yet for how to save herself if the earl’s behavior was not all it should be.
Reggie glanced at Carlisle and saw a man whose tailoring was impeccable, whose demeanor was entirely proper, but who reminded her of nothing so much as a caged jungle cat. “I am an idiot,” she muttered under her breath. “Completely out of my mind. A fool on a fool’s errand.”
But it wasn’t foolish, not really. She wanted a home and a husband and children. Until she had met Clay Bannister, she had not believed she would ever find a man she could respect and admire who also respected and admired her. That brief episode in the hall had been more than a little revealing.
Carlisle had dealt courteously with the importuning fop, but the fellow could not have mistaken his message. More impressive was the way he had dealt with Lady Hornby. And then there was that kiss on her hand. And the look in his eyes. For the first time in a very long time, Reggie had a hope that she might find … love.
Reggie had never allowed herself to dwell on the subject of love. At the same time, it had never been far from her mind since she had become old enough for her father to agree to a match. To be honest, she feared the emotion. Love exerted some magical power, created some powerful inner turmoil that allowed men and women to overlook the worst of faults in each other. Becky had allowed love to propel her into a match with Penrith, and look how badly that had turned out.
Reggie was quite certain she had never experiencedlove, at least, not the sort that would allow her to overlook a fatal flaw in a man’s character. She glanced at Carlisle from the corner of her eye, looking for the defect she was certain she would find. In his face and form she could find none. But physical assets—however pleasing to the eye they might be—were not what really mattered in a man, as she well knew. It was what was inside that counted. And that did not show at first glance.
She was determined to know the truth of Carlisle’s character because she saw in him the sort of perfection a lover sees in her beloved. And Reggie knew how illusory that sort of perfection could be.
On the ride home in Carlisle’s carriage, Reggie was so engrossed in her thoughts, and thus so quiet, that Becky asked, “Are you all right,
Reggie laid a hand on Carlisle’s sleeve. “Thank you, Clay. I know I can trust you to take the best care of me.”
He lifted her gloved hand, turned it over, and pressed a kiss to her palm. “You are precious to me in more ways than you can possibly imagine, my dear.”
“Oh.” She felt the heat of his breath again, this time on her flesh beneath the glove. She stood frozen, unable to move, unable to retrieve her hand or to offer him her lips as she had the undeniable urge to do. She could not ask for a more perfect suitor.
But he could not possibly be perfect. No man was perfect. She noticed a flaw in his perfection—and reached out to brush back the stray lock of dark hair that had fallen onto his forehead.
Reggie suddenly realized what she was doing and jerked her hand away. “Please forgive me,” she said. “I don’t know why I did that.”
He stared at her, his dark eyes burning with some strong, frightening emotion she could not name. “There is nothing to forgive,” he said at last. “Shall we return to the box?”
Reggie did not want the interlude to end, but she knew it was perilous to stay where she was. It was too private, and there was a tension between them now that had not been there before. “Of course,” she agreed.
She tried to enjoy the rest of Sheridan’s comedy, but her thoughts kept straying to her engagement with the earl on the morrow. The evening’s entertainment at a gaming hell would offer her the opportunity to evaluateCarlisle on more than one count, but it was also risky because she did not have a plan yet for how to save herself if the earl’s behavior was not all it should be.
Reggie glanced at Carlisle and saw a man whose tailoring was impeccable, whose demeanor was entirely proper, but who reminded her of nothing so much as a caged jungle cat. “I am an idiot,” she muttered under her breath. “Completely out of my mind. A fool on a fool’s errand.”
But it wasn’t foolish, not really. She wanted a home and a husband and children. Until she had met Clay Bannister, she had not believed she would ever find a man she could respect and admire who also respected and admired her. That brief episode in the hall had been more than a little revealing.
Carlisle had dealt courteously with the importuning fop, but the fellow could not have mistaken his message. More impressive was the way he had dealt with Lady Hornby. And then there was that kiss on her hand. And the look in his eyes. For the first time in a very long time, Reggie had a hope that she might find … love.
Reggie had never allowed herself to dwell on the subject of love. At the same time, it had never been far from her mind since she had become old enough for her father to agree to a match. To be honest, she feared the emotion. Love exerted some magical power, created some powerful inner turmoil that allowed men and women to overlook the worst of faults in each other. Becky had allowed love to propel her into a match with Penrith, and look how badly that had turned out.
Reggie was quite certain she had never experiencedlove, at least, not the sort that would allow her to overlook a fatal flaw in a man’s character. She glanced at Carlisle from the corner of her eye, looking for the defect she was certain she would find. In his face and form she could find none. But physical assets—however pleasing to the eye they might be—were not what really mattered in a man, as she well knew. It was what was inside that counted. And that did not show at first glance.
She was determined to know the truth of Carlisle’s character because she saw in him the sort of perfection a lover sees in her beloved. And Reggie knew how illusory that sort of perfection could be.
On the ride home in Carlisle’s carriage, Reggie was so engrossed in her thoughts, and thus so quiet, that Becky asked, “Are you all right,
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