To Quill’s pleasure, Gabby’s face had brightened and she was obviously feeling more cheerful.

“What about Ophelia?” she demanded. “When Hamlet rejected her, she went stark raving mad and threw herself into a river, didn’t she? You know that part when he tells her to enter a nunnery? That was just the kind of look that Peter gave me tonight!” Gabby’s face was the picture of self-conscious woe. She was clearly visualizing herself as a forlorn Shakespearean heroine.

Quill grinned. “Let me get this straight. Because Peter quite properly refused to kiss you in clear sight of most of the London ton, you are considering a bath in the Serpentine? I could instruct the coachman to turn in that direction,” he said helpfully. “Of course, there’s a bitter wind on the river tonight, but I gather that won’t stop you, since you are so desperate.”

“I gather you think that I am making too much of it?” Gabby gave a watery chuckle. “That’s a fault of mine,” she admitted candidly.

“Deuced uncomfortable habit.”

But Gabby looked up at him, her beautiful eyes appealing. “Do you honestly think that Peter wants to kiss me, Quill? The way you do, I mean?”

Quill recoiled. “How the hell do you know what I want?”

Gabby shrugged a little. “You never say much,” she observed. “But you look at me.” She fell silent.

“Every man under the age of ninety was looking at you,” Quill tossed off. “Your gown is designed to make men look at you.”

“When you look at me,” Gabby persisted, “it makes me feel—uneasy.”

“That doesn’t sound very pleasant.” Quill could feel a black cloud descending on his chest.

“It isn’t. I feel as if ants are dancing on my skin.”

“Truly unpleasant,” Quill growled. “I apologize. I shall endeavor not to cause you any further discomfort.” His tone had grown polite and remote.

Gabby frowned. “I’m not describing it correctly. Your look is like your kisses,” she whispered, mortified by her own temerity in speaking such a thing out loud. “They make me feel quivery—here.” She put her hand on her stomach. Her words drifted in a cloud of embarrassment inside the carriage.

She felt a light touch on her ear and turned. Quill had dropped a kiss there and was grinning at her.

“Feel quivery yet?”

“No!” Gabby said indignantly. “Stop funning, Quill! I never should have told you.”

“True,” Quill agreed.

“Peter doesn’t look at me in the same way.”

Quill bit his tongue before he agreed again. Finally he said, “I’m sure that he wants to kiss you, Gabby. Peter is only being mindful of your reputation.” He hoped to God that he was right. And he hoped the opposite as well.

And then…and then Gabby looked up at him with her lovely wide-set eyes, and her look said, Kiss me. Quill smiled.