“You’re not from around here.”

“Here would be . . .?”

“The town of Maiden Hill in Kent.”

“Ah.” Kent? Why Kent? Simon craned his neck to try and see out the window, but the gauzy white curtain obscured it.

She followed his gaze. “You’re in my brother’s bedroom.”

“Kind of him,” Simon muttered. “No, I can’t say I’ve ever been to the lovely town of Maiden Hill, although I’m sure it’s quite scenic and the church a famous touring highlight.”

Her full, red lips twitched again bewitchingly. “How did you know?”

“They always are in the nicest towns.” He looked down—ostensibly to adjust the coverlet, in reality to avoid the strange temptation of those lips. Coward. “I spend most of my wasted time in London. My own neglected estate lies in Northumberland. Ever been there?”

She shook her head. Her lovely topaz eyes watched him with a disconcertingly level stare—almost like a man. Except Simon had never felt stirred by a man’s glance.

He tsked. “Very rural. Hence the appellative neglected. One wonders what one’s ancestors were thinking, precisely, when they built the old pile of masonry so far out of the way of anything. Nothing but mist and sheep nearby. Still, been in the family for ages, might as well keep it.”

“How good of you,” the lady murmured. “But it does make me wonder,” she continued, “why we found you only a half mile from here if you’ve never been in the area before?”

Quick, wasn’t she? And not at all sidetracked by his blather. Intelligent women were such a bother.

“Haven’t the foggiest.” Simon opened his eyes wide. “Perhaps I had the good fortune to be attacked by industrious thieves. Not content to leave me lie where I fell, they spirited me off here so I might see more of the world.”

“Humph. I doubt they meant for you to see anything ever again,” she said quietly.

“Mmm. And wouldn’t that’ve been a shame?” he asked, feigning innocence. “For then I wouldn’t have met you.” The lady raised a brow and opened her mouth again, no doubt to practice her inquisition skills on him, but Simon beat her to it. “You did say there was tea about? I know I spoke of it disparagingly before, but really, I wouldn’t mind a drop or two.”

His angel actually flushed—a pale rose wash coloring her white cheeks. Ah, a weakness. “I’m sorry. Here, let me help you sit up.”