“Some would say she’s too kind to me.”
“Oh, many people say that,” Hyacinth said with a shrug.
He choked on his lemonade. “You haven’t a coy bone in your body, do you?”
Hyacinth glanced across the room at Penelope and Lady Danbury before turning back to him. “I keep trying, but no, apparently not. I imagine it’s why I am still unmarried.”
He smiled. “Surely not.”
“Oh, indeed,” she said, even though it was clear he was funning her. “Men need to be trapped into marriage, whether they realize it or not. And I seem to be completely lacking in the ability.”
He grinned. “You mean you’re not underhanded and sly?”
“I’m both those things,” she admitted, “just not subtle.”
“No,” he murmured, and she couldn’t decide whether his agreement bothered her or not.
“But tell me,” he continued, “for I’m most curious. Why do you think men must be trapped into marriage?”
“Would you go willingly to the altar?”
“No, but—”
“You see? I am affirmed.” And somehow that made her feel a great deal better.
“Shame on you, Miss Bridgerton,” he said. “It’s not very sporting of you not to allow me to finish my statement.”
She cocked her head. “Did you have anything interesting to say?”
He smiled, and Hyacinth felt it down to her toes. “I’m always interesting,” he murmured.
“Now you’re just trying to scare me.” She didn’t know where this was coming from, this crazy sense of daring. Hyacinth wasn’t shy, and she certainly wasn’t as demure as she ought to have been, but nor was she foolhardy. And Gareth St. Clair was not the sort of man with whom one ought to trifle. She was playing with fire, and she knew it, but somehow she couldn’t stop herself. It was as if each statement from his lips was a dare, and she had to use her every faculty just to keep up.
If this was a competition, she wanted to win.
And if any of her flaws was going to prove to be fatal, this was surely it.
“Miss Bridgerton,” he said, “the devil himself couldn’t scare you.”
She forced her eyes to meet his. “That’s not a compliment, is it?”
He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a feather-light kiss across her knuckles. “You’ll have to figure that out for yourself,” he murmured.
To all who observed, he was the soul of propriety, but Hyacinth caught the daring gleam in his eye, and she felt the breath leave her body as tingles of electricity rushed across her skin. Her lips parted, but she had nothing to say, not a single word. There was nothing but air, and even that seemed in short supply.
And then he straightened as if nothing had happened and said, “Do let me know what you decide.”
She just stared at him.
“About the compliment,” he added. “I am sure you will wish to let me know how I feel about you.”
Her mouth fell open.
He smiled. Broadly. “Speechless, even. I’m to be commended.”
“You—”
“No. No,” he said, lifting one hand in the air and pointing toward her as if what he really wanted to do was place his finger on her lips and shush her. “Don’t ruin it. The moment is too rare.”