“You know,” Richard said, turning to her quite suddenly, “I might say that of the two of us, your observations are the more valuable. You may be able to see deficiencies I do not.”

“I see nothing deficient, I assure you.”

“Nothing?” he murmured, and his voice touched her like a caress.

“But of course I know little about the running of an estate,” she said quickly.

“How strange to have lived the whole of your life in London,” he mused.

She cocked her head to the side. “Not so strange if that is all you’ve known.”

“Ah, but it is not all you’ve known, is it?”

Iris felt her brow furrow, and she turned toward him. A mistake. He was closer than she’d realized, and for a moment she forgot what she was going to say.

One of his brows rose in question.

“I—” Why was she staring at his mouth? She wrenched her gaze upward, to his eyes, which were crinkled with amusement.

“Did you wish to say something?” he murmured.

“Just that I . . . ah . . .” What had she been going to say? She turned back to the window. “Oh!” She turned back to Richard. Still a mistake, but at least this time she didn’t forget what she meant to say. “What do you mean by it’s not all I’ve known?”

He gave a little shrug. “Surely you’ve spent time in the country at your cousins’ homes.”

“Well, yes, but it’s hardly the same thing.”

“Perhaps, but it would be enough to inform an opinion on life in the country versus that in the city, would it not?”

“I suppose,” Iris acceded. “To be honest, I’d never really given it thought.”

He looked at her intently. “Do you think you will enjoy living in the country?”

Iris swallowed, trying not to notice that his voice had deepened with the question. “I do not know,” she replied. “I hope so.”

She felt his hand slip down to hers, and before she realized what was happening, she’d turned again to face him as he raised her fingers to his lips. “I hope so, too,” he said.

His eyes met hers over their hands, and in a flash she realized—He’s seducing me.

He was seducing her. But why? Why would he feel the need? She had never given him any indication that she would refuse his advances.

“I hope you are hungry,” he said, still holding her hand.

“Hungry?” she echoed dumbly.

“For supper?” He smiled with amusement. “Cook has prepared a feast.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” She cleared her throat. “I am hungry, I think.”

“You think?” he teased.

She took a breath. Forced her heart to beat a little more slowly. “I am quite sure,” she said.

“Excellent.” He tipped his head toward the door. “Shall we?”