She knew her face must be the color of a cherry following the wave of mortification that had swept through her, and the very last thing she wanted was for anyone else to witness it. “Stand right there, if you please, and do not move,” she said through gritted teeth, willing the furious color to fade with all alacrity.
He laughed again, the complete and utter cad. “You’re doing it again.”
“I know,” she growled. “Which is why I have directed you not to move.”
“Do you know, I have never found blushes to be particularly endearing before now,” he said, his voice rife with amusement. “They have always seemed somewhat contrived. But I am rather enjoying yours.”
“I suppose that makes one of us.” She knew she must sound like a veritable shrew, but every word he spoke only seemed to provoke another wave of abject embarrassment, and she did not blush prettily. She could feel his gaze on her face, knew he was beyond amused, and she could not even tell him to let her be, for he was the only thing standing—quite literally standing—between her and public embarrassment.
“Should I surmise from your, er…shall we say, interest in my breeches that you and Lady Ravenhurst have had a chat of sorts?”
She cracked one eye open. Good lord, he was still laughing at her, his mouth quirked up into a half-grin. “You cannot truly expect me to answer that,” she said, scandalized.
“So you did, then.” He canted his head to the side, his blue eyes narrowing speculatively. “I wonder what else she told you.”
“Will you stop,” she hissed in a low voice. “This—this is hardly an appropriate conversation!” Of course, Nora had found the time to explain the mechanics of the act, and it had all sounded so very undignified and just generally implausible. But that didn’t mean she wished to acknowledge such a thing to the duke.
“Well, no,” he acknowledged. “But it is a great deal of fun. For me.” That grin grew to alarming proportions, no longer just in simple amusement, but with an almost predatory gleam, as if he took utter delight in her discomfort. “You needn’t worry. There’s no one close enough to overhear.”
That was the least of her concerns. “I won’t discuss it with you,” she said, and then added for clarity, “I won’t discuss it at all.”
His brows lifted. “Oh, now I think I really must know. Somehow, I have the feeling that she went into a bit more detail than she ought to have.”
She made a little sound of mingled humiliation and rage, her brows knitting in frustration. If only she could have slapped him—but that would have caused more problems than it would solve.
“All right,” he said on a chuckle. “All right, you may have your secrets. I won’t badger you.”
She drew a steadying breath, felt her hand slip on the condensation coating her glass of lemonade and fumbled to catch it.