“Mr. Sommersby, I take it you received my message.” She sounded breathless, as though she’d run to him, and he envisioned how rushed her breaths might become as passion arced through her beneath his hand, his body. He resented that he felt a spark of envy toward the man who would introduce her to the pleasures to be found when bodies were joined.

“I did.”

“May we?” She indicated the hallway.

With a slight bowing of his head, he stepped back into it. She followed. It was more shadowed here, and he imagined the satisfaction to be found in luring her into the darkened corner and taking possession of that mouth that still harbored a slight smile. Not where his mind needed to travel. He nodded toward the doorway. “You have a way of bringing the story to life.”

She arched a brow, her smile turning teasing. “A compliment? The next thing I know you’ll confess to liking me.”

“I don’t dislike you, Miss Trewlove.”

“No? I wasn’t quite certain after things ended as they did last night.”

“I simply take exception to your hunt to marry a lord.”

“Would you take exception if I was born on the right side of the blanket?”

“The circumstances of your birth don’t signify. You’re chasing a title, and behind that title is a man.”

“Who will no doubt be chasing my dowry.” She crossed her arms over her chest, tucking them beneath her breasts, which served to bring them to the fore. His eyes should not have dipped in order to fully appreciate the lovely display, but they did, damn them. “Why do you care—”

Because they’re perfect, sized to fill a man’s palms without leaving him wanting for more.

“—whom I should marry?”

Right. They were discussing something else entirely. “I have respect for the aristocracy and for men in particular. I don’t like to see the male of the species tricked into marriage, no matter how comely the trickster.”

Now, she balled her fists and sent them to her hips, narrow hips if the way her skirts fell were a true indication. Miss Trewlove curved in and out in a most delectable manner.

“Whatever gave you the impression I would use deceit to gain a husband?” She sounded truly insulted, then rolled her eyes. “The letter? I can admire a man, a relationship, without using what I know of it for duplicity. Have you an encounter in your past that causes you not to trust women?” She gave him a long, slow, thorough once-over that made him feel as though she were skimming her fingers over every inch of his skin. Sympathy filled those eyes that reminded him of the finest chocolate. “Did she break your heart?”