Free A Sense of Sin by Elizabeth Essex Page B

seriousness. “Thank you. I accept.”
    She ought to have been coy. Such a conversation with any of his female acquaintance in London would have been the opening salvo in a battle of flirtation. For God’s sake, they were engaged in a secret meeting in a beautifully romantic, darkened garden on a balmy summer night. It was practically de rigeur to flirt. But try as he might, Darling could find no trace of the coquette in her voice, which was soft and lower than most females’, but still entirely feminine. Her voice seemed . . . innocent.
    No. That simply could not be. He would not allow it. He must think of Emily and all the things she would never do, and harden himself to this girl.
    “How do you find Dartmouth, Viscount Darling? It must be very quiet and boring after your travels of the world.”
    Did she sound wistful? “Have you never traveled?”
    “No. Not at all.”
    “Never? Have you never been away from Dartmouth? Been to London?”
    “Only to Bath, to Miss Hadley’s. I know I am hopelessly provincial after all your travels.” Her tone was almost scornful.
    “Not at all. I think you simply lack experience of the world. Of seeing a greater variety of people.” He wasn’t sure how he had come to be defending, or reassuring her.
    “Oh, that is certainly true.” She spoke with feeling as she leaned back against a column supporting the arbor. “But I fear a greater acquaintance with the world would only lead me to greater confusion and lesser understanding. I find people are simply hard to understand. A man like you is impossible to understand.”
    “You are too severe upon yourself. Yet, I find myself thankful for your lack of experience, else you would never talk to me. You would know a girl like you ought not to be talking to a man like me.” He darkened his own voice with a bit of rueful wistfulness.
    She turned to face him fully, and his eyes were drawn to her lips, red and chapped from being bitten. And to her eyes. It must be merely a trick of the light, but her eyes carried deeper shadows. When she looked at him thus, with those wide, solemn eyes, she appeared almost haunted.
    As well she ought to be.
    “Forgive me, Viscount Darling, but I should like to know to what purpose is this conversation?”
    Her forthright question surprised him. “To what purpose? To improve our acquaintance. I had hoped we might even become friends. For Emily’s sake.”
    “For Emily’s sake,” she echoed. “Viscount Darling, I hope I give no offense, but I was under the very strong impression that you do not like me. That you rather actively wish me ill.”
    He smiled to cover his surprise. Brilliant of her, of course, to make such a direct attack, when he had been guarding his metaphorical flanks. But he could lie as effectively as she.
    “I do not wish you ill, Miss Burke. I wish most sincerely to become friends.”
    “Friends? Do you always make bets to seduce, ruin, and abandon your friends?”
    Bolt after bolt, each surprising shot overthrew all his assumptions and all his plans. There was nothing, simply nothing he could say that would not condemn him. He braced himself for the onslaught of her condemnation, for the slap he knew he deserved, yet she remained calm and collected.
    “That, Viscount Darling, is something I cannot understand. Would you care to explain it?” Her clear, quiet tone demanded an answer.
    Oh, she was clever, a very worthy opponent.
    “I see Commander McAlden has spoken with you first.”
    “You must not blame the Commander. I fancy he has done us both a favor, Viscount Darling. Although the Commander declined to take your bet, I intend to accept your challenge.”
    She could not have hit him any harder if she had slapped him. “You astonish me, Miss Burke.”
    “Thank you. I am glad. It evens us up a bit.” She nodded, all steady purposefulness. “As we have both noted, I am shy of the world and lack experience. You, on the other hand, claim a surfeit. It seems the answer