Guy laughed slightly. “I enjoy the sharpness of some of the social observations and the quick wit of much of the dialogue in many of them. And I find reading women novelists rather illuminating. They give me—” He broke off as Babbit came in with the champagne. “Thank you, just leave it on the sideboard, I’ll deal with it.”

The door closed on the butler and he busied himself with the cork, easing it carefully from the bottle so that it came free with barely a pop. He lifted a glass from the tray, holding it at a slight angle as he poured the pale bubbles so that the wine didn’t froth over the top of the glass.

“You were saying?” Petra prompted him, taking the glass he handed her.

He frowned as he poured the second glass. “Oh, yes . . . I was saying that I find reading women writers illuminating. Their work gives me a greater understanding of what your sex generally finds interesting and important. Both of which tend to be much broader than the impression men generally garner from the usual run of social encounters.”

Petra absorbed this, gazing down into the effervescence in her glass. “I can see how that could be,” she said thoughtfully.

“A toast.” Guy lifted his glass. “To a greater understanding.”

Petra drank the toast before asking, “A greater understanding of what exactly?”

“Ah.” Guy regarded her over the lip of his glass. “I very much want to understand you, Petra. A lot happens to people in ten years, and while I still recognize in you the girl you were, it’s clear to me that you were barely formed. And now . . .” He shook his head with a small smile.

“Now?” she prompted, very curious to hear what he would say.

“Now, while I appreciate no one is ever their finished self, for as long as we breathe we keep growing and changing, you are very different from what, or rather who, you were. And I want to learn who you truly are because I am already deeply drawn to that person.”

So much for playing games, Petra thought. How could she possibly indulge in her vengeful little scheme in the face of such candor? Even if she still wanted to. And she wasn’t at all sure about that anymore. She took a sip of champagne to give herself a moment’s breathing space. Something was required of her, some answering statement and there was only one way she could truthfully respond.

“Perhaps, if you were to kiss me again it might help to clarify my thoughts,” she said.

“With the greatest of pleasure.” Guy set aside his glass, reached for hers and put it on the desk. “It might be easier without the hat.”

“Oh, yes.” Petra caught her bottom lip between her teeth, her fingers quivering a little as she pulled out the long hatpins before tossing the straw hat onto a chair.