To Distraction (Bastion Club 5)

She’d tried hard to come up with a better phrasing for her third reason; she wasn’t surprised to see amusement flash through his eyes.

“Male companionship?”

She narrowed her eyes to slits. “You know perfectly well what I mean.”

He had the gall to smile. “Indeed.”

For definable seconds, she was trapped in his eyes, his gaze warm, inviting…

Frowning, she snapped free. She was quite sure he more than understood her allusion; indeed, he no doubt knew to what she referred far better than she. Reordering her thoughts, she harried her wits to action. “In my case, as my father’s heiress I stand in no need of a husband to keep me. Likewise, I have interests and concerns that more than adequately fill my time and engage my attention. My full attention. And lastly, when it comes to any desire for male companionship, I’ve never felt the slightest need to indulge. There is, consequently, no bene

fit whatever for me in taking a stroll to the altar.”

He searched her eyes; his lips remained lightly curved, not so much indicating amusement or dismissal of her words as the fact that she hadn’t—yet—succeeded in convincing him, in shaking his confidence that he could win and wed her. “Not being privy to your financial state, I’ll concede that as your father’s heiress you won’t need a husband to support you. However, I wonder—have you considered that in terms of you being an attractive parti from a gentleman’s point of view, your fortune elevates rather than decreases your eligibility?”

She frowned. “My eligibility is not the issue here—rather, it’s marriage’s attraction for me.”

His smile took on an edge, as if she’d walked into a trap. “Indeed.” His tone deepened, becoming more private. “Leaving aside your second reason—one I’m not persuaded, given your third reason, that you as yet have had either opportunity or necessity to properly evaluate—then to address your third reason…” His eyes held hers, trapping her attention, drawing it all to him, to them. Focusing it entirely on their interaction. “How many gentlemen have courted you?”

She blinked, distantly aware that Stripes had appeared and was announcing dinner. “None. I’ve…” She broke off.

An instant passed as he waited for her to continue, then one dark brow arched. “Never permitted any to attempt it?”

“Well, no. Why would I?” Gathering her shawl, she turned to join the company; Lady Cranbrook was moving through the guests, pairing them for the table. “I’ve never been interested—”

“How can you tell if you’ve never let any gentleman close enough to…find out?”

The words fell by her ear and sent a shiver spiraling down her spine. He’d moved closer, behind and to her side; she glanced up, over her shoulder, and met his eyes.

He’d been going to say “seduce you” but had deigned to spare her, not that she hadn’t heard his meaning in the tenor of his voice, couldn’t read it, clear and unclouded, in his eyes.

She forced herself to hold his gaze. “I have no interest in ‘finding out.’” In being seduced.

They could hear Lady Cranbrook approaching, blithely directing this gentleman to partner that lady.

Deverell held Phoebe’s gaze. “You’re not such a coward.”

On the last word, he looked up—to smile at their hostess.

“There you are, my lord—your organization is quite perfect. Please do lead Miss Malleson in.”

He smiled and inclined his head. “It will be my pleasure, ma’am.”

With a light pat on Phoebe’s arm, Lady Cranbrook fluttered on.

Very conscious of Phoebe’s sudden stiffness, Deverell elegantly offered his arm and waited. Only when she slid her hand onto his sleeve did he lift his gaze to her face and lightly smile. “I promise not to bite.”

Her eyes flashed, briefly meeting his, then she faced forward. “I don’t.”

Deeming it wiser not to utter an assurance that he wouldn’t mind if she felt so inclined, he led her to join the exodus heading for the dining room.

Phoebe escaped from the dining room with the other ladies, leaving the gentlemen to pass the port.

Entering the drawing room, she glided to where a pair of French doors set open to the pleasant evening gave her some excuse to stand alone and contemplate.

Not that she was contemplating anything so bucolic as the view.

Deverell had…seduced her, at least in one way. Much as she shied from the word, it was the most applicable.