“What? I…you…this conversation is absurd. I was unconscious.”
He was having far too much fun. Miss Everton was quite a sight when wound up, with flashing eyes and quickened breath that caused her bust to move up and down in a slightly indecent, and therefore very alluring manner. But it wouldn’t do to push things too far too quickly. Straightening, he gave her a playful wink.
“You are altogether too charming when in a temper, Miss Everton. I shall have to remember that.”
“So you can bait me?” she asked incredulously.
“So I’ll know what to expect when I do.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Have me figured out then?”
“I’m not so presumptuous as to assume I have grasped the whole of your character from a single conversation,” he returned, stubbornly ignoring the fact that he had done just that several days ago in William’s office—only without the benefit of actually conversing with her first. “Merely one small facet of which I am sure there are many. For example, I have no idea how well you dance. Would you do me the honor of enlightening me?”
It occurred to Sophie that she should probably decline. He was clearly a rake. When she took his proffered arm anyway, she knew she should have said no. She could feel the heat of his arm through his coat, it seeped up through her fingers, spread across her chest, and did the strangest thing to her legs—they suddenly felt heavy.
Fortunately, the dance was a country reel; it afforded little chance of conversing and even less for touching. Nonetheless, she was breathless and a little light-headed when he led her off the floor toward the lemonade table, and she knew it wasn’t from physical exertion. She accepted a glass from him gratefully and drank nearly half of it in just a few swallows. Alex took a glass for himself and led her away from the crowd around the table.
“You are a well-traveled woman of the world, Sophie, and unless I’m much mistaken, this is your first London ball.” He waved his glass in a sweeping motion. “What do you make of all this?”
Ever conscious of how sensitive people could be to a guest’s opinion, Sophie instinctively paused before answering. “It’s very different from what I am used to,” she finally replied. “And not quite what I had expected.”
The remark earned a smile from Alex. “That was a decidedly neutral statement.”
“I suppose it was,” she conceded. “It’s too bad women aren’t allowed to be diplomats.”
“It’s a pity women are denied a great many opportunities,” he stated in all honesty. Then, not even remotely in earnest, added, “But you’re right, I think, they would make excellent ambassadors. Most of them are exceedingly crafty by nature, forever arguing, sniping, meaning one thing and saying another, saying one thing and doing another, distracting their enemies with a pretty smile while they slip their dagger in the back.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You have a very low opinion of women, Your Grace.”
“I believed we agreed on ‘Alex,’ and I do hope I haven’t offended you.”
“Well, then your hopes are foolishly misplaced, aren’t they? You just insulted me.”
“I most certainly did not. If you will recall, I said ‘most’ women, not ‘all.’ Naturally, you were not included in my description of feminine artifices.” God, but she was fun to tease.
“Oh…well, I believe I retain the right to be offended on behalf of the women who are not here to defend themselves.”
Alex rocked back on his heels and looked down at her with exaggerated interest. “Let me see if I understand you correctly. Are you proclaiming yourself a representative of females the world over?”
“Don’t be silly. There is too much difference between cultures.” She took a delicate sip from her glass. “Just the British ones.”
“Ah, excellent. You won’t mind shedding some light on a few mysteries surrounding the fairer sex then, will you, Miss Ambassador?”
“I shall endeavor to answer your questions regarding British women, Your Grace,” she said pertly, then, after another sip added, “of a certain age.”
“Alex.”
“Oh, very well, Alex, but only while no one else is listening.”
Alex grinned at her stipulation. “Fair enough. I can scarce believe I have been handed this opportunity. Do you know that there are men who would commit murder to be in my shoes at this moment?”
“Ask your question, if you please,” Sophie replied, rolling her eyes, but smiling nonetheless.
“Very well. My first question is this: What ever do ladies, British ladies, discuss when they retire to the drawing room after dinner?”