Pursuing Lord Pascal (Dashing Widows 4)

For his sake, she made herself smile, even as she wanted to fling her arms around him and apologize on behalf of fate for that desolate upbringing. “I refuse to believe you were ever pimply or gangly. I’ll wager you always looked like a prince. No wonder you devoted yourself to pleasure when you hit London. The ladies must have gone into a frenzy for you.”

His laugh held a sour note. “You describe a dashed shallow cove.”

“That?

?s what you want me to believe, isn’t it?”

He leveled that deep blue gaze upon her. “What I want you to believe is that I’ll make an excellent lover and an even better husband.”

The abrupt change struck a jarring note. She knew how reluctantly he’d spoken of his past, but now he had, she couldn’t help seeing beyond this magnificent creature to the bereft little boy.

Although if she told him that, he’d run a hundred miles. Just when she started to think that she might like him to stay.

It was clear she’d wring no more confidences from him today. The uncompromising line of his jaw told her that he’d unveiled as much of his soul as he intended. “We’ve made an excellent start.”

His face creased with familiar humor. “You sound like a schoolmistress marking my arithmetic.”

“Arithmetic isn’t the subject here, my lord. You are.”

The path petered out at a weir, so they turned to retrace their steps. “That’s a damned uncomfortable thought.”

“It shouldn’t be. And you passed with high marks. You haven’t even tried to kiss me.”

His smile was rueful. “I’ve thought about it.”

So had she. Last night’s kisses had been so delightful, she could barely resist asking for more. And that way lay madness and ruin.

He shot her a sideways look. “Are you going to let me escort you to the opera?”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps in a dark opera box, I can persuade you to break a rule or two.”

“Sally and Meg are coming, too. And I believe Meg has invited Sir Brandon Deerham.”

Pascal’s sigh was theatrical in its glumness. “You have a cruel streak.”

Surreptitiously she studied him as they strolled along the path. He looked more resigned than angry. She knew she tested him, which was the whole point, really. “You must think I’m unhinged when it’s perfectly clear we’re…attracted.”

Talking about his childhood, a pall had fallen over his brightness. She could see he felt much more comfortable with flirtatious nonsense. “We are?”

“Of course we are.”

His eyes glinted. “That gives me hope.”

She snorted. “As if you don’t know how dazzling you are.”

The brief cheerfulness faded. “Oh.”

Curse it. She’d been doing such a fine job of restoring his spirits, but now she put her foot in it. When she’d promised not to.

“Not just because of your blasted looks,” she said with a hint of impatience. “I like you. Or haven’t you realized that yet?”

He stopped so abruptly that her hand slipped free. “You do?”

“If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t consider your proposal,” she said, puzzled that this seemed to be news.

“So you are considering it?”