Which made his reply all the more unexpected.
“I have a sister,” he said slowly. “So I am acutely aware of how sharp the female mind can be.” A rumbled chuckle softened his solemn expression for just an instant. “Indeed, their skill at riding roughshod over an enemy’s defenses put the efficiency of many of my fellow officers to the blush.”
He is a military man?
That explained the ramrod straightness of his spine, the hint of muscled hardness beneath the finely tailored evening clothes, the tiny scar on the cleft of his chin.
The unmistakable impression of steely strength.
She made herself shift her gaze from the intriguing little nick. “So, you are a soldier, sir?”
“A former soldier,” he corrected. “Duties here at home made it imperative for me to resign my commission in Wellington’s forces and come back to England from the Peninsula.”
Olivia returned her attention to the chessboard, but not before muttering under her breath, “There are plenty of important battles to be fought on our own soil.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She repeated what she had said in a louder voice.
His eyes narrowed—in censure, no doubt.
That was hardly a surprise, thought Olivia bitterly. Ladies weren’t supposed to have opinions about anything meaningful. Especially if they were one of the three poor-as-a-churchmouse Sloane sisters.
Of course that did not stop her from saying what she thought. It didn’t matter that Society dismissed her as a rag-mannered hellion, tolerated only because of the beauty and charm of her younger sister. She could take a measure of inward satisfaction in knowing there were far more effective ways of being heard…
Clearing her throat with an exaggerated cough, she added, “If you must blow a cloud, sir, might you do it on the other side of the room?” She had come here for the express reason of avoiding the other guests. With any luck, he would take the hint and go away.
“I beg your pardon,” he repeated, quickly stubbing out the offending cheroot. “Had I known there was a lady present, I would not have been so ill-mannered as to indulge in a smoke.”
Olivia gave a brusque wave without looking up. “Apology accepted, sir.” Hoping that silence would help to encourage a quick retreat, she propped her elbows on the table and continued to study the position of the remaining chess pieces.
The gentleman didn’t budge.
Repressing a huff of impatience, Olivia pushed the last ivory pawn forward with a touch more force than was necessary. It slid over the smooth marble tiles and collided head-on with its ebony counterpart. With a soft snick, the two erections hit up against each other.
A glint of emotion seemed to hang for an instant on the fire-sparked tips of his dark lashes. But surely she must be mistaken—it was only a quirk of the candlelight that made it appear to be amusement.
In her experience, military officers were not wont to display any sense of humor.
“Madam,” he murmured, after another moment of regarding the board with a hooded stare.
“Miss,” she corrected.
A frown fitted across his face, but after a tiny hesitation he continued, “I concede that you seem conversant in the concept of chess. But this evening, perhaps, er, playing cards would be a more appropriate choice of entertainment.”
“I loathe cards,” said Olivia. “They require such little mental effort. Chess is far more cerebral.”
“Indeed. However, in this particular case, it is the, er, physical aspect of the game that is cause for concern—”
“Why?” she interrupted. “Seeing as chess is considered by many to be a metaphor for war, it seems singularly appropriate that male figures display their swords.” A pause. “Sword is a euphemism that you gentlemen use to refer to your sex organ, is it not?”
His bronzed face seemed to turn distinctly redder in the uncertain candlelight.
Good—I’ve truly shocked him.
Now perhaps he would go away, thought Olivia, quickly moving one of her pawns to another square. She had been deliberately outrageous in hopes of scaring him off. His presence—that tall, quiet pillar of unflinching steel—was having a strangely unsettling effect on her concentration.
“You might want to reconsider that particular strategy.” To her dismay, the gentleman slid into the seat across from her and took charge of the ebony army.