him leaping into the water to drown himself at her siren feet.
He watched as she descended the stairs, her overskirt floating around the white satin gown skimming her shapely curves. Another hat adorned her gilded hair, this one pink satin with two dangling white tassels that barely trembled as she glided toward them. He hadn’t known a woman could move as smoothly, or as sensuously, as that. Even her stern expression couldn’t quell the quickening of Marcus’s pulse at the sight of her.
“Behave yourself,” she said, and for half a second, Marcus thought she was talking about the heat rising in his loins. But no, she was speaking to Foxmoor. “I refuse to spend the evening listening to you bait his lordship,” she told her brother in a silky voice that made Marcus’s blood run even hotter.
“Me!” Foxmoor protested.
“He was kind enough to indulge my request that he give you a chance, and I won’t have you go at him with daggers drawn. Either behave civilly, or we will leave you here, and you’ll have to take your own carriage.”
“A capital idea,” Marcus muttered.
That only drew her withering stare to him. “As for you, my lord, I suppose I shall have to overlook your deplorably unfashionable evening clothes.” While a footman scurried to help her don a pelisse, she eyed Marcus askance. “I suppose you lacked the time to purchase new evening attire for your entry into society—”
“The time and the inclination to spend money so frivolously,” he retorted. “Especially when I possess a perfectly good coat already.”
“And here I thought you were wealthy. Apparently I was mistaken.” Before he could respond to that insult, she continued in that sugary voice of hers, “But razors aren’t costly. So what reason could you possibly have for ignoring my advice about shaving off your beard?”
Did she mean to lecture him with impunity? Not damned likely. “What lies beneath my beard is no sight for a lady. You of all people should understand that, given how important you deem physical appearance.”
If she realized he was insulting her, she didn’t show it. “That means you should let me judge whether what lies beneath your beard is a sight for ladies.”
“Ah, but then if you shrank back in horror, it would take me weeks to grow the beard back properly, during which time I’d be deprived of your company.”
She smiled. “Would that be such a loss for you?”
“We made a bargain, and I mean to hold you to it.” He held out his arm, ignoring the way her smile faltered. “Shall we go?”
As she took it, a snigger from his left made him glance over to find Foxmoor fighting back a laugh.
She glared at her brother. “Something wrong, Simon?”
“No, nothing,” he answered, eyes alight with amusement. “I’ll just fetch Cicely. She’s in the drawing room.”
When he walked off, his shoulders shaking with laughter, Marcus glanced down at Lady Regina. “Was it something I said?”
“My brother thinks you’re incapable of behaving like a gentleman. And you prove him right with every word out of your mouth.”
He suppressed his irritation. “As I recall, our bargain didn’t include any assurances that I’d behave like a gentleman.”
“True. But I didn’t realize you meant to spend our time together trying to embarrass me.”
He stared her down. “I’m planning to be myself. If that embarrasses you—”
“No need to get all dragonlike and huffy about it. I assure you I’m very hard to embarrass.”
“No, your forte is probably embarrassing other people.”
She flinched, then glanced away. “Of course. That’s what my sort excel at. How clever of you to have found us out.”
Damn. Had he actually hurt her feelings?
No, that was impossible. Her “sort” prided themselves on being able to shame someone with a word. She was only angry that he’d beaten her to the insult.
Moments later, her brother returned with a woman in tow. As Foxmoor performed the
He watched as she descended the stairs, her overskirt floating around the white satin gown skimming her shapely curves. Another hat adorned her gilded hair, this one pink satin with two dangling white tassels that barely trembled as she glided toward them. He hadn’t known a woman could move as smoothly, or as sensuously, as that. Even her stern expression couldn’t quell the quickening of Marcus’s pulse at the sight of her.
“Behave yourself,” she said, and for half a second, Marcus thought she was talking about the heat rising in his loins. But no, she was speaking to Foxmoor. “I refuse to spend the evening listening to you bait his lordship,” she told her brother in a silky voice that made Marcus’s blood run even hotter.
“Me!” Foxmoor protested.
“He was kind enough to indulge my request that he give you a chance, and I won’t have you go at him with daggers drawn. Either behave civilly, or we will leave you here, and you’ll have to take your own carriage.”
“A capital idea,” Marcus muttered.
That only drew her withering stare to him. “As for you, my lord, I suppose I shall have to overlook your deplorably unfashionable evening clothes.” While a footman scurried to help her don a pelisse, she eyed Marcus askance. “I suppose you lacked the time to purchase new evening attire for your entry into society—”
“The time and the inclination to spend money so frivolously,” he retorted. “Especially when I possess a perfectly good coat already.”
“And here I thought you were wealthy. Apparently I was mistaken.” Before he could respond to that insult, she continued in that sugary voice of hers, “But razors aren’t costly. So what reason could you possibly have for ignoring my advice about shaving off your beard?”
Did she mean to lecture him with impunity? Not damned likely. “What lies beneath my beard is no sight for a lady. You of all people should understand that, given how important you deem physical appearance.”
If she realized he was insulting her, she didn’t show it. “That means you should let me judge whether what lies beneath your beard is a sight for ladies.”
“Ah, but then if you shrank back in horror, it would take me weeks to grow the beard back properly, during which time I’d be deprived of your company.”
She smiled. “Would that be such a loss for you?”
“We made a bargain, and I mean to hold you to it.” He held out his arm, ignoring the way her smile faltered. “Shall we go?”
As she took it, a snigger from his left made him glance over to find Foxmoor fighting back a laugh.
She glared at her brother. “Something wrong, Simon?”
“No, nothing,” he answered, eyes alight with amusement. “I’ll just fetch Cicely. She’s in the drawing room.”
When he walked off, his shoulders shaking with laughter, Marcus glanced down at Lady Regina. “Was it something I said?”
“My brother thinks you’re incapable of behaving like a gentleman. And you prove him right with every word out of your mouth.”
He suppressed his irritation. “As I recall, our bargain didn’t include any assurances that I’d behave like a gentleman.”
“True. But I didn’t realize you meant to spend our time together trying to embarrass me.”
He stared her down. “I’m planning to be myself. If that embarrasses you—”
“No need to get all dragonlike and huffy about it. I assure you I’m very hard to embarrass.”
“No, your forte is probably embarrassing other people.”
She flinched, then glanced away. “Of course. That’s what my sort excel at. How clever of you to have found us out.”
Damn. Had he actually hurt her feelings?
No, that was impossible. Her “sort” prided themselves on being able to shame someone with a word. She was only angry that he’d beaten her to the insult.
Moments later, her brother returned with a woman in tow. As Foxmoor performed the
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