“Very well, then,” he said. “I believe we are expected in the drawing room.”

She glanced at him, then returned to face forward. “I do like cake.”

“Were you planning to deny yourself merely to avoid me?” he asked as they continued down the hall.

“Not exactly.”

He gave her a sideways look. “Not exactly?”

“I was going to return to the ballroom once you left,” she admitted. “Or have some sent to my room.” A moment later she added, “And I wasn’t trying to avoid you.”

“Weren’t you?”

“No, I—” She smiled to herself. “Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?” he echoed. Again.

She didn’t clarify. She couldn’t, because she wasn’t even sure what she’d meant. Just that, maybe, she didn’t completely detest him any longer. Or at least not enough to deny herself cake.

“I have a question,” she said.

He cocked his head, indicating that she should proceed.

“Yesterday, when we were in the drawing room, when you, erh . . .”

“Woke you up?” he supplied.

“Yes,” she said, wondering why it had felt embarrassing to say it. “Well, after, I mean. You said something about ten pounds.”

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that was born deep in his throat.

“You wanted me to pretend to swoon,” she reminded him.

“Could you have done?” he asked.

“Faked a swoon? I should hope so. It’s a talent every lady should possess.” She shot him a cheeky grin, then asked, “Did Marcus really offer you ten pounds if I fainted on the lawn?”

“No,” Lord Hugh admitted. “Your cousin Daniel felt that the sight of us both armed with pistols might be enough to make a lady swoon.”

“Not just me,” she felt compelled to clarify.

“Not just you. And then Daniel announced that Lord Chatteris would pay us each ten pounds if we managed it.”

“Marcus agreed to this?” Sarah could not think of anything less like him, except possibly jumping onto a stage and dancing a jig.

“Of course not. Can you imagine such a thing?” Lord Hugh smiled then, a real, true one that curved more than just the corners of his mouth. It reached his eyes, sparkling in those green depths, and for the most staggering, horrifying moment, he turned almost handsome. No, not that. He’d always been handsome. When he smiled, he turned . . .

Lovable.

“Oh, dear God,” she choked out, jumping back. She’d never kissed a man, never even wanted to, and she was starting with Hugh Prentice?

“Is something wrong?”

“Ehrm, no. I mean, yes. I mean, there was a spider!”

He looked down at the floor. “A spider?”

“It went that way,” she said quickly, pointing to the left. And sort of to the right as well.

Lord Hugh frowned, leaning on his cane as his body swayed to one side to better glance down the hall.