Chapter Six
The art of flirtation is more difficult to master than I expected.
—Roslyn to Fanny
Roslyn rose early the next morning, eager to set in motion the search for the highwayman. To her surprise she found the duke already up before her, meeting in the study with the Freemantle bailiff.
Mr. Hickling expressed alarm at the danger she and her ladyship had faced during the holdup, but Roslyn assured him they hadn’t suffered any lasting damage. When she described the place where the coach had been waylaid, he recognized it at once, since it was close to the farm belonging to his eldest son. Hickling took his leave shortly, promising to conduct a thorough search of the area.
When he was gone, Roslyn surveyed the duke. He hadn’t yet shaved, so his jaw was shadowed by stubble, making his lean, aristocratic features look a trifle rugged. Yet he still managed to give the appearance of lithe elegance. Except for missing a cravat, he wore the same formal attire as he’d worn to the wedding, probably because the late Sir Rupert Freemantle was smaller of shoulder and much larger of girth.
Roslyn herself had changed into a modest muslin round gown. She felt Arden’s perceptive gaze survey her in turn.
“Did you have trouble sleeping?” he asked, his tone sympathetic.
“A little. I kept seeing that pistol pointed at us every time I closed my eyes.”
“The dark images will pass eventually.”
“You sound as if you speak from experience.”
“I do.” Arden glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantel. “I didn’t expect you to rise so early.”
“Nor I you, your grace.”
Amusement flickered in his eyes. “No doubt you presumed I would laze abed till noon.”
“Many noblemen of your stamp would.”
“You have a rather low opinion of me, don’t you, darling?”
Roslyn laughed. “You are improving upon better acquaintance, I must say.”
Arden grinned. “Considering where I started, I should be gratified.”
Pointon appeared at the study door just then to announce that breakfast awaited them. When they moved to the breakfast parlor, Winifred was already seated at the table, her plate piled high from an array of dishes on the sideboard. Evidently her hearty appetite had remained unaffected by the previous night’s traumatic events, Roslyn noted.
When she inquired how Winifred was faring, her ladyship smiled. “Well enough, my dear. But I am so very grateful to the duke for electing to remain with us for a few days.” She favored Arden with an even brighter smile while Pointon served her guests coffee. “It is comforting to know that you will be here to protect us from a vicious highwayman, your grace. Although we are less than an hour’s drive from London and close enough that you could return home each night, it will be more convenient if you billet here at Freemantle Park. And of course,” Winifred added, “you cannot stay at Danvers Hall while the new earl is gone, since Roslyn and Lily will be unchaperoned. Pointon will send to London for fresh clothing for you.”
“I have already made arrangements, my lady,” Arden replied mildly, apparently prepared to put up with her overbearing supervision.
Winifred proceeded to chatter on about how splendid the wedding had been, as if she was determined to forget the holdup had ever happened. Since Roslyn was of the same mind, the conversation remained light all through breakfast.
When her ladyship had exhausted the topic of nuptials, she proceeded to question the duke about his interest in governing the nation, but Arden replied that most of his work was done for now. Parliament had adjourned for the summer, and many of the noblemen in the House of Lords had left the heat of London for their family estates.
At the conclusion of breakfast, Winifred adopted an innocent look. “Perhaps you would like to see the Park, your grace. Roslyn can show you before she returns home to Danvers Hall this morning. Roslyn, my dear, why don’t you take his grace to the charming little folly by the lake?”
Roslyn shared a brief glance with the duke, who was barely stifling his amusement. But she didn’t protest, since showing him over the estate would allow them to escape Winifred’s watchful eye, and she wanted a measure of privacy so she could continue the discussion they had begun last night.
“The grounds are indeed lovely this time of year,” Roslyn murmured. “Just let me fetch my cloak, your grace.” The sun was out, but the June morning would be a trifle cool.
When she had retrieved the garment from Pointon, she found the duke awaiting her in the entrance hall. She led him through the house to a side door, and once outside, she stayed to the gravel path so the dew wouldn’t stain her slippers.
The park boasted beautifully landscaped lawns and gardens. In the distance atop a rise, she could see the folly that overlooked the ornamental lake, and she headed that way.
“I don’t suppose you have changed your mind about me tutoring you,” Arden began as they walked.
“No, I have not,” Roslyn replied pleasantly. “I would very much like you to advise me on the feminine arts of seduction.”
“I was afraid as much.”
“Have you given any more thought to my questions?”
“Yes, sweetheart.”
She glanced up at him expectantly. “I am all ears, your grace.”
“I expect I should start with the easiest question—you asked me what appeals to me in a mistress. I thought of several more attributes I find favorable.”
“And those are?”
“For one thing, a good mistress doesn’t complain about neglect from her patron if he visits her infrequently.”
“Her time is at his disposal, you mean?”
“Yes. And she doesn’t overspend her allowance, running up huge bills at the modiste and milliner, or press him for more jewels.”
Roslyn nodded thoughtfully. “It seems entirely reasonable that a patron wouldn’t appreciate extravagance.”
“Yes, and if he chooses to give her gifts, they should be at his discretion.”
“In other words, if she wants him to lavish gifts on her, she should make his generosity seem like his own idea.”
Arden’s mouth curved at her teasing remark. “Just so. And she should want him for himself, not his wealth—or at least give the appearance of it.”
Not replying, Roslyn cast a sideways glance at the duke. He seemed to have a great deal of experience being pursued for his wealth. It was obviously a sore point with him, much the way her appearance was with her. She had no doubt he was seen as a great prize, yet she knew very well his attractions were due to more than his fortune or his exalted title. In looks alone, he was far superior to other noblemen.
Against her will, she found her gaze lingering on him. His fair hair glimmered amber in the sunlight, while his features held an austere masculine beauty.
Admittedly, she herself felt a fierce attraction toward him, despite her determination never to be swayed by appearance. Yet she had discovered there was much more to Arden than met the eye. Despite his aristocratic elegance, he had a commanding look, a virile vital energy that suggested he was a man of substance. And his exhilarating charm and stimulating wit kept her on her toes—
Roslyn shook herself as they reached the folly, a small, circular edifice built of gleaming white marble resembling a Grecian temple. The folly had no walls, merely a roof supported by thick columns, while the open interior was adorned by marble statues and supplied with benches. She mounted the three steps and settled on one of the benches. Arden followed her inside but remained standing.
“What else does a successful mistress do?” she asked, determined to ignore his appeal.
“From what I’ve witnessed, she makes her patron the sole focus of her attention. She should occasionally flatter him and express admiration—but again, she must seem to be sincere. And she should at least appear to listen to what he says.”
Roslyn lifted an eyebrow in amusement. “So she should compliment and admire him and hang on his every word, even if she finds little admirable about him and nothing interesting in his conversation?”
“Even so,” Arden replied, his own tone edged with humor. “And as I said last night, she should see to his physical comfort and pleasure.”
Roslyn couldn’t help blushing a little. “We needn’t go into detail about the carnal side of an affair, your grace. I will take your word for it.”
Arden’s eyes gleamed. “Your modesty is showing, love.”
“I expect it is. It is a curse to have a complexion that displays embarrassment so easily.”
“Then suffice it to say, she must leave him physically satisfied. But she should also keep the relationship purely on a physical level. A good mistress doesn’t become overamorous or let her affections become engaged. She never lets emotion get in the way of a business transaction, and she certainly never expects love to be the outcome.”
Roslyn couldn’t help but smile as she contemplated the duke. “I can clearly see that you would not want something so bothersome as love to interfere with your pleasure. Fortunately my situation with Haviland is not a business arrangement, so it won’t matter if my affections are engaged by him, as long as it is not one-sided.”
“True, but a mistress is making a contract for services rendered.”
“I understand. As you said last night, you want your lover to be undemanding.”
“But the reverse is also true. Fidelity is crucial. The worst offense she could make is to let her attention stray to another man while under his protection. She must have eyes only for him…which leads me to my first lesson. In order to begin a dalliance with Haviland, you need to learn how to conduct a subtle flirtation.”
“So how do I manage that?”
“I intend to teach you. The surest way to kindle his interest is to speak to him with your eyes.”
“My eyes?” She shook her head in amusement.
“You can communicate a great deal with just a glance.”
“Such as?”
“Such as the fact that you are interested in him, that you find him appealing. Gaze at him a long moment. Flutter your eyelashes at him a little.”
“How fascinating.”
The duke ignored her impudence. “And then there is your mouth.”
“I cannot wait to hear this one,” she remarked dryly.
“This is gravely important, darling,” Arden chided, his tone laced with mocking amusement. “If you mean to ridicule every suggestion I make—”
“No, please…my apologies. Do proceed.” Roslyn disciplined her expression to soberness, even though it was hard.
“As I was saying, you need to draw his attention to your mouth. Purse your lips into a pout…. Subtly touch your fan to your lips, that sort of thing. Just make it provocative.”
Roslyn laughed out loud at that. “I am sorry, but I find it hard to credit that a man with any claim to intelligence would fall for batting eyelashes and pouting lips.”
Arden gave her a stern look. “Do you want me to continue or not?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then behave yourself, Beauty. Now show me a pout.”
Roslyn tried to comply. She pursed her lips into a moue while glancing up at him through her lowered eyelashes. Arden responded by dropping his gaze to her mouth…which was precisely what was supposed to happen. But then she spoiled the effect when she couldn’t hold the pose; unable to keep a straight face, she broke into laughter again. It was all too absurd.
“This may be impossible,” she finally said when her laughter subsided.
Arden didn’t scold her as she expected. Instead he regarded her with a tolerant look, clearly amused to watch her efforts. “Hopefully you will get better with practice.”
“Perhaps I should forget all about this.”
“Are you giving up so easily, sweetheart? I never would have supposed you to be a quitter.”
Roslyn lifted her chin at his challenge, no doubt as he intended. “Of course I am not a quitter. But I just find it hard to believe this will work.”
“You don’t have to take my word for it. You can apply to Eleanor for confirmation. She is two years younger than you but has far more experience with the courting game. You are a mere babe compared to her.”
She didn’t know Marcus’s sister well enough to quiz her on such a delicate topic. “I think perhaps I had best rely on Fanny.”
“But I am available now.” Leaning back against a column, Arden crossed his arms. “You need to try again with me before you have to face Haviland this afternoon. I will be your test subject.”
“Really, this isn’t necessary, your grace. I have already put you to enough trouble.”
“You wanted to learn how to seduce a man, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then do it. Stand up, angel. Pretend I have walked into a room and spied you. What is the first thing you do?”
Roslyn brought her hands up to her suddenly flushed cheeks. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”
“Have you observed your pupil, Miss Newstead? Mimic her actions.”
She could do that much, Roslyn thought, recalling how Sybil Newstead had tried to catch the duke’s attention last night at the wedding ball.
Obediently she rose to her feet. Then taking a deep breath, she pasted a teasing smile on her lips and slowly crossed the folly in front of him, swaying her hips in a brazen display of coquetry. When she reached one side, she paused to flash him a flirtatious glance over her shoulder before sauntering back across the marble floor.
It encouraged her to see the duke watching her avidly. Throwing her heart into the role, Roslyn tossed her head and made a moue, then primped her hair and smoothed her skirts just as she had seen Sybil do a hundred times.
Arden threw back his head and laughed. “I daresay that’s a fair imitation of the little minx.”
“I am gratified you appreciate my efforts,” Roslyn murmured.
“Now make it much more subtle.”
She made another effort, this time toning down her performance, her movements more hesitant and sensual.
Arden nodded in approval. “Not bad for a novice. Now, come here.”
“Why?” Roslyn said pertly.
He grinned. “Because you need more practice.”
She did as he bid, moving to stand before him. “What next?”
“Look into my eyes. Pretend that I am the only man you could ever be interested in.”
Roslyn locked eyes with him…and promptly felt her breath falter. The deep vibrant green held her spellbound. It was a mere glance, yet time seemed to stop. And just like before, a sizzling spark of awareness arced between them.
Fighting the power of it, Roslyn struggled to catch her breath. The sparks didn’t mean a thing, she told herself. The duke was merely giving her a lesson in dalliance. To construe anything intimate or sexual in it was ridiculous.
Then her gaze dropped to his mouth, that firm, sensual mouth that had shown her such pleasure a fortnight ago. She felt the strongest longing to kiss him—and an even more powerful craving to have him kiss her the way he had that night. The temptation of that warm, sensual mouth was nearly impossible to resist.
Jerking her scandalous thoughts to order, Roslyn tore her gaze away and stepped back. Chastising herself for her inexplicable reaction, she cleared her throat that had suddenly grown dry and made a supreme effort to pretend indifference. “Thank you, your grace. I believe that is enough instruction for one day. You have given me ample ideas to practice on the earl this afternoon.”
Arden’s gaze had turned enigmatic, she saw, but then his mouth slanted sardonically. “I expect a report on your success, sweeting. It should prove highly interesting.”
“Very well. I owe you that much.”
Relieved that he didn’t press her further, Roslyn turned away. She had imposed on the Duke of Arden far enough. It was high time she went home and set in motion her campaign to win Lord Haviland.
Thankfully there were no more chances for intimacy with the duke before Roslyn took her leave of Freemantle Park. By the time she reached home, Arabella and Marcus were gone, having set out an hour before on their wedding trip.
The butler and housekeeper were supervising the servant staff in cleaning up after the ball. After conferring with the Simpkins, Roslyn settled in the morning room to begin cataloging the vast array of wedding gifts the guests had sent to the Earl of Danvers and his new countess.
She had made good progress when a short while later her younger sister entered. A frown drew down Lily’s mouth while her cheeks were unusually flushed.
“Whatever is wrong?” Roslyn asked in concern.
“Nothing that I care to discuss,” Lily replied cryptically. She surveyed Roslyn intently. “What about you, Rose? Tess and I were appalled to get your note this morning explaining why you stayed with Winifred last night. We called at the Park, but you had just left, so Winifred told us all about the highway robbery. It sounds as if you were very brave.”
“I was frightened out of my mind,” Roslyn replied dryly. “But at least no one was harmed.”
“Except for the brigand. I understand Hickling has initiated a search for a wounded man.”
Roslyn nodded. “Yes, although we don’t hold out much hope of finding him.” She eyed her sister again, noting that Lily’s normal high spirits were nowhere in evidence. “Are you certain you are all right? You look as if something has upset you.”
“I am not upset. I merely have a touch of the headache, and having Tess drive me home in her gig didn’t help.”
“Why don’t you sit down and have some tea? Mrs. Simpkin just brought in a fresh pot.”
“You always think tea is such a great restorative,” Lily complained, although she sank down beside Roslyn on the settee. “A dose of Marcus’s brandy would be more helpful.”
“It is far too early for brandy—not that a lady should even be drinking anything so potent.”
“You sound just like Arabella.”
Roslyn fixed a stare on her younger sister. “Arabella is concerned—and rightly so—that you’ve turned into a little hellion.”
Shaking off her dark mood, Lily managed to grin. “I know. But I have no desire to pretend to be a lady.”
“You are a lady all the same. And if I remember, you don’t even like brandy.”
“True. But I am told that it might help with my throbbing head.” Flashing a rueful smile, Lily leaned forward to pour herself a cup of tea. “You see, I got rather foxed last night at the ball. I should know better, since spirits make me tipsy, including champagne. But I drank three glasses of it because I was feeling sad at losing Arabella, and now I am sincerely regretting my indulgence.”
“Is that all that is wrong, Lily?”
Surprisingly, her cheeks flushed a deeper pink. “Well, perhaps not all. Winifred is still driving me to distraction with her maddening attempts at matchmaking.”
“I know,” Roslyn agreed wholeheartedly. “I was her target last night and again this morning. You were right about her wanting to pair me with Arden. It was mortifying in the extreme.”
“Well, I don’t intend to remain here to become Winifred’s hapless victim,” Lily said decisively. “I mean to go to London and stay at Fanny’s boardinghouse. She has room, and she has asked my advice in dealing with two of her friends who run the house. I don’t know if I can help them, but I would like to try.”
Roslyn stared at her sister in surprise. “You intend to hide in London in order to elude Winifred’s matchmaking schemes? Are such drastic measures really necessary?”
Lily grimaced. “I am beginning to think so. If I can’t be found, then I needn’t worry about any unwanted suitors, do I? I cannot stay in Chiswick, obviously. And no one will think to look for me at Fanny’s place, including Marcus, thankfully. You know he would not approve of my intimacy with her particular friends.” Lily’s tone suddenly became more cheerful. “I have it! You can tell Winifred and anyone else who inquires that I have gone to Hampshire to visit friends at our old home.”
Roslyn’s brows drew together in a puzzlement. “Why would you want her to think—”
“Please, Rose, just humor me this once.”
Wondering if she should be concerned, Roslyn searched her sister’s face. “Lily…is there more you aren’t telling me?”
“Not at all. Don’t worry about me, dearest. It is nothing I cannot handle.” Lily smiled reassuringly before adding under her breath, “I simply have absolutely no intention of allowing any man to court me.”
Roslyn would have prodded her sister further, but Lily clearly didn’t wish to discuss the subject. And since she was perfectly capable of knowing her own mind and dealing with her own problems, Roslyn decided to focus on her own immediate affairs—chiefly preparing for her three o’clock meeting with Lord Haviland to discuss his upcoming ball.
When Roslyn finally finished her appointed task of itemizing wedding gifts, she started making lists of the countless details that needed to be decided on in order to conduct a ball of large magnitude.
At half past two, she went upstairs to change her attire with the help of their lady’s maid, Nan. Making use of the new wardrobe Marcus had funded, Roslyn donned a stylish gown of blue jaconet that was the same color as her eyes. Then she returned downstairs to the small salon, where she intended to receive her guest, since it was much more informal and comfortable than the drawing room, which had been totally refurbished by Arabella in the past month.
Roslyn felt a measure of excitement as she waited for the earl to arrive, but she forced herself to keep from glancing out the window more than once every few minutes. Instead she went over in her mind the techniques of flirtation that Arden had taught her this morning…eyes, mouth, flattery….
She found herself smiling anew while wondering if his tricks would have any effect on Haviland. She hoped so. She would sometimes daydream of the earl, imagining how their courtship would go. He would be irresistibly drawn to her from the first, and in a very short time, declare his love and ask for her hand in marriage.
Perhaps, Roslyn ruminated, she had concocted a mere fairy tale, but if she could kindle his desire for her in any way, she was willing to exert her best effort, including developing her skill at coquetry, despite the fact that she was not really cut out for such pretenses.
Haviland arrived promptly at three, but to her surprise, he was not alone; when he was shown into the salon by Simpkin, he was accompanied by the Duke of Arden. The two noblemen seemed to be on amiable terms, although they claimed to have met at her front door.
Roslyn looked a question at Arden, wondering why he had chosen to call at this precise moment when he knew she had an appointment with the earl.
“I thought you might like a report on the search for our highwayman,” he answered without prodding.
Haviland’s heavy eyebrows drew together sharply. “What highwayman?”
He had not yet heard about last night’s holdup, so Roslyn was required to relate the events.
“What is being done about it?” Haviland wanted to know.
The duke answered for her, telling him about the search the Freemantle servants had conducted this morning. “They canvassed the district for the brigand, but found no traces of blood anywhere, or any real clues to follow. He could have taken refuge anywhere, even as far as London.”
“Perhaps we should have armed footman patrol the roads for the next few nights,” Haviland suggested.
“It is already being done,” Arden replied.
“Good. And we should alert the local citizens to be on the lookout and to keep their possessions well guarded. I don’t want to alarm anyone unnecessarily, but they should take precautions.”
Simpkin arrived with the tea tray just then, and Roslyn invited the earl to sit beside her on the settee. If she expected Arden to take his leave, however, she was disappointed, for he settled comfortably in a wing chair and showed no signs of retreating. And as she poured for the gentlemen, he changed the subject to the earl’s ball, which vexed and dismayed her more than a little. She had hoped for some time alone with Lord Haviland and had not expected to have an audience.
But since the duke apparently intended to give her no choice, Roslyn summoned a smile and asked Haviland what plans had been made for the ball.
“My housekeeper has already arranged for flowers and musicians and more serving staff, but she would be grateful for your advice on the menu, since she has never been required to feed such distinguished company. There will be a dinner beforehand for two dozen guests, and a late buffet supper at midnight. And I would welcome your help with the social niceties—where to place the reception line, how to seat the guests by rank, that sort of thing.”
“I would be happy to help,” Roslyn said. “It would be best if I inspected your house and met with your butler and housekeeper. And I should like to see the guest list.”
“I have brought it with me.” Haviland drew out a sheaf of papers and handed it to her.
Roslyn glanced down the long list, which contained some two hundred members of the ton, many of whom had attended the Danvers wedding celebrations. When she was finished, the duke surprised her by asking to see it.
“I can probably assist in this respect,” Arden said, “since I’m acquainted with a good number of the ton.”
Roslyn handed it over without demur. No doubt he could help, since he moved in the highest circles of society and knew everyone of consequence.
While he perused the list of guests, she picked up her own list of requirements for a successful ball and began to review the various categories with the earl to make certain they had been properly considered. Haviland moved nearer to her, the better to see, and bent his head close to hers.
The intimate position would have offered Roslyn the perfect opportunity to initiate her intended flirtation with him—if not for her keen awareness that they were not alone. The duke was watching her too closely for comfort, which made her exceedingly self-conscious. Yet whenever she glanced up at Arden, he merely raised an innocent eyebrow and sipped his tea.
When eventually she narrowed her eyes at him, he merely smiled, his gaze gleaming a challenge, as if daring her to order him out.
His presence flustered Roslyn so that she could barely concentrate on the plans for the ball. When she was done reviewing her lists with Haviland, she set an appointment for eleven o’clock the following morning to inspect his house for herself and meet with his upper servant staff. A few minutes later he rose and took his leave after thanking her sincerely.
When he was gone, Roslyn turned to Arden with an undisguised look of exasperation. “What do you mean, your grace, intruding on us that way? I had hoped for privacy with Lord Haviland.”
His expression remained mild in the face of her obvious pique. “I wanted to see you employ your new skills on him.”
“So you came to critique my performance?”
“And to observe so that I could offer you pointers.” He shook his head ruefully. “I admit I was not impressed by your lackluster attempts at flirtation, darling.”
His remark provoked her even more. “How could you expect me to flirt with him with you watching my every move?”
The duke settled back in his chair. “You shouldn’t let yourself be discomfited. Conducting a dalliance under public scrutiny is all part of the game.”
Roslyn’s hands went to her hips. “It is your scrutiny that discomfits me.”
“Why? I am merely your tutor.”
Her frustration only rose. “I asked you to help me, not hinder me! Why did you even come here today?”
Arden shrugged. “Would you believe boredom? I found myself at loose ends, cooling my heels at Freemantle Park with nothing to do. And I decided that watching you with Haviland might prove entertaining.”
“So you decided to use us for your own personal amusement?” Roslyn asked dangerously.
His expression sobered. “Not entirely. The truth is I wanted to escape Lady Freemantle before I throttled her. Her enthusiasm for conversation is enough to drive a saint mad. But you are right to be annoyed with me. Pray accept my apologies.”
Somewhat mollified by his explanation, Roslyn felt her ire fading. The duke had only remained at the Park out of chivalry. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to escape Winifred.
“I understand your impatience with Lady Freemantle,” Roslyn said more softly. “She does tend to get a bit giddy when she has a captive audience. But it is because she is lonely—a widow with no children or family relations. And she has few friends in the neighborhood because of her lower-class origins.”
“But you understand why I might want to take refuge here?”
“Yes, and you are welcome here, of course.”
“Thank you, Beauty.”
She gave him another exasperated look. “I wish you would not call me that, your grace. You know my feelings on the subject of appearance. You needn’t keep reminding me of mine.”
His mouth curved. “You will have to become accustomed to an occasional endearment if you mean to become more intimate with Haviland.”
“How can I become more intimate when you won’t allow me the chance?”
“Point taken. Very well, it won’t happen again.”
“I trust not. I begin to believe I can do better on my own.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you no longer want my advice on how to win Haviland?”
Roslyn hesitated. “No, I am not saying that at all. But you needn’t be so…provoking.”
“Fair enough. Sit down so we can discuss your performance. You fell short in several areas, I’m afraid.”
Reluctantly Roslyn returned to the settee. “What was wrong with my performance?”
Clasping his fingers over his stomach, Arden surveyed her thoughtfully. “For one thing, you were too businesslike just now. You should make an effort to be more feminine with Haviland. Strive to be a little less dictatorial and managing.”
She frowned. “But Haviland seems to esteem my management skills.”
“Do you want him to see you as his majordomo or as his potential lover?”
“His lover, of course.”
“Then leave the generalship to his servant staff. For a moment or two there, you were so commanding you reminded me of my mother.”
“You have a mother?” Roslyn asked archly.
He grinned. “What did you expect? That I was hatched?”
“I would not be surprised.”
His grin took on a satirical slant. “My mother is a dragon, but I’m told I came into the world in quite the usual way.”
Roslyn heard the sharp note in his tone at the mention of his mother, but she was more interested in returning to the subject of her deficiencies with Haviland. “Where else did I go wrong?”
“You might want to temper your frankness a little. Some men may find your brand of forthrightness off-putting.”
“Do you?” she asked curiously.
“No, but we’re not concerned with my likes. Haviland will respond better to a sweeter tone. And whatever you do, don’t flay him with your sharp tongue.”
Disheartened, Roslyn sank back against the settee. “I am not likely to flay Haviland. More often I find myself at a loss for words with him.”
“Somehow that surprises me,” Arden said dryly.
“Well, it is true.”
“I suspect you are too eager to earn his good opinion, whereas with me, you have no compunction at telling me off to my face.”
“Because I have no desire to impress you.”
“So quit trying so hard with Haviland. Simply be yourself. You are charming and personable enough to let your natural self shine through.”
She stared at him. “Merciful heavens, I believe you just complimented me.”
“I suppose I did.”
His green eyes glimmered at her, making her pulse quicken. Shaking herself, though, Roslyn managed a smile. “Well, thank you for the lesson, your grace. I will try to do better next time.”
“If you like, I will call on you tomorrow morning before your meeting with Haviland and give you another lesson.”
“I would appreciate that. For now, however…” Bending, she gathered up her lists and stood. “If you will excuse me, I still have a great deal to do. But please make yourself at home for as long as you like. If you care for more tea—or something stronger like wine or brandy—just ring for Simpkin.”
Politely rising to his feet as she left, Drew found himself grinning ruefully at having been dismissed once more. But he could not have expected a warmer welcome from Roslyn when he’d intruded on her privacy so flagrantly.
He’d answered her question truthfully; escaping Lady Freemantle was the chief reason he’d come here when he was clearly unwanted. Boredom was also a part of it. And curiosity. He had wanted to see how Roslyn would behave with Haviland, to discover how far she would take her campaign.
But once he was here, some perverse part of him wanted to provoke her, to rouse that flash of passion in those blue eyes.
An even more idiotic part of him had wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss that lovely mouth, to make love to that alluring body….
Drew laughed softly as he remembered her response to his careless endearment when he’d called her “Beauty.” Roslyn was absurdly prickly on the subject of appearance—a unique oddity in his experience. He’d never before known a woman to complain about being too beautiful.
He certainly couldn’t fault her for her extraordinary beauty. Admittedly he derived pleasure from simply gazing at her; he was a red-blooded man, after all.
But Roslyn was also unique in other respects. He found her innocence rather endearing after the calculated arts his former mistresses employed. Her smile was fresh and honest, not sophisticated and cynical. He hated to see that freshness ruined by the scheming games played by the femmes fatales she was attempting to mimic.
Drew abruptly shook his head. He had fulfilled his promise to her for the time being. How she applied his advice was really not his concern.
He had no reason to remain at Danvers Hall any longer, either. In fact, there was nothing more he could do here in Chiswick at the moment, Drew decided. He might as well take himself off to London for the evening and spend a few pleasant hours at his club.
Or better yet, resume his search for a mistress. If he was able to lose himself in a lush female body, then perhaps he wouldn’t find the lovely Roslyn Loring quite so damned appealing.