Free How the Marquess Was Won by Julie Anne Long

surprising, and delightful, and very dangerous, really, how quickly it ignited.
    “You cannot be much older than she is, Miss Vale.”
    “Are you fishing about for my age? But again, you’ve the right of it. Imagine that! You’re clever as well as rich. But I am apparently deemed much wiser in the ways of the world and less likely to be lured into, shall we say, foolishness .”
    “Ah, now, that is a pity.”
    She tried not to smile, and failed. “It is quite true, I fear. I’ve had so many years of practice resisting foolishness, you see, it’s become second nature.”
    A warning. And a dare.
    He acknowledged this with one of those smiles, swift and crooked that snagged her breath.
    “So what do you do in the capacity of paid companion?” He leaned back against the wall, as if settling in for a chat.
    Oh, God. That would never do. She nervously darted her eyes toward the gathering. Then toward the stairs.
    And then, God help her, she leaned back, too.
    “Well . . . it’s not entirely clear. I expected I would primarily smile, make pleasantries, listen to Lisbeth and tolerate Jonathan. It’s an improvisational position, really. But she’s sent me to fetch a reticule. I fear this may set a precedent for my duties throughout the rest of the party.”
    “Lisbeth makes it a pleasure and not a duty,” she hastened to add. “She is very sweet and kind and charming.”
    “She is charming,” he agreed, after a moment.
    She wished he didn’t sound so fervent.
    “Perhaps you ought to go and speak to her , then.” A little too tart. Blast.
    He was amused by her irritation. “I have spoken to her.”
    “And you’ve said everything you have to say? That’s a shame. I was under the impression that conversation perpetuates itself, if done properly.”
    He looked back at the gathering, and spoke after a hesitation. “Nobody speaks to me the way you do.”
    He wasn’t bantering now. They were both surprised by his honesty, clearly, judging from the moment of silence that followed.
    “Perhaps because nobody else here will be going to Africa ere long and they all likely care what you think of them.”
    “Ah. Of course. I’d forgotten. You’re going to Africa . Heaven knows, the privilege of burning beneath the hot sun is a costly one, hence the reason you took up the extra work as a paid companion.”
    “Right you are!” she said cheerfully.
    “You see, Miss Vale? I do comprehend the principles of work.”
    “Perhaps you should cease troubling yourself over the concept of work, Lord Dryden, and stick to what you do best.”
    “And what do you imagine that is, Miss Vale?”
    Oh, God. She’d never known a grown man could . . . purr. His tone caused a series of vivid images to burst into bloom, all prurient, none of them suitable for sharing with anyone, ever.
    “I try not to imagine anything at all about you.” Her voice had gone a little hoarse. Damn.
    “Do you know what I think?”
    “I suspect you’re about to tell me.”
    “I think you haven’t stopped thinking about me since we discussed kissing.”
    In his mouth, the word kissing was a weapon. It pinned her like a butterfly.
    “Of course I stopped.” Long enough to dream about you .
    His little smile told her he knew she was lying.
    She glanced at the stairs again, and back at the gathering, where Lisbeth was deploying the fan with an air of secrecy and hauteur, as if she’d just been crowned.
    With great effort, Phoebe herded her scattered composure.
    He must have sensed she was about to bolt, because he said the very thing that would stop her in her tracks. “I’ve been wondering about you, Miss Vale.”
    She sighed. “Honestly, Lord Dryden, I will loan you ten pounds. It’s exhausting to witness you working so hard just to get a kiss.”
    She’d thought he’d be amused. His eyes flared something almost like exasperation, irritation. “I swear to you. I never officially took Waterburn’s wager. But if he should issue it again ,