“Don’t be daft, girl. I’ll not insult the ladies by speaking of indelicate topics, but suffice it to say, females are referred to as the weaker sex for a reason.”
“Quite right, husband,” Mrs. Jarles chirped.
Sophie ignored her and spoke directly to Mr. Jarles. “It is my understanding that every soldier has his own strengths and weaknesses. True, my arms are not as muscular as a man’s, but I’ll wager my fingers are a good deal more nimble.”
Mr. Jarles snorted for what seemed like the dozenth time, and Sophie began to wonder if the man was capable of making conversation without the porcine sound effects. “Exactly my point,” he scoffed. “Nimble fingers indeed! What good is that, I ask you? A fine hem won’t keep Napoleon from knocking at our gates, now will it? Civilization depends on the strength of our men. War cannot be waged with nimble fingers, my girl. We need soldiers strong of body, and leaders strong of mind.”
“Here, here!” some idiot cried. She was too annoyed to bother discovering who.
“I question the strength of anyone’s mind who would insist that war is a more civilized pursuit than embroidery,” she returned.
Mr. Jarles turned an unfortunate shade of red, but whether it was from embarrassment or temper, she would never know.
“Dinner is served.”
Alex, pointedly ignoring the still fuming Mr. Jarles, stepped forward to take Sophie’s arm. There would be a wait. Like all dinner parties, the pro cession into the dining room held all the pomp and circumstance of a military parade, and the ritual appeared to be a new one for Sophie. He could see she was trying to hide a smile. And failing miserably. She faced studiously ahead, but her eyes darted furtively about the room and her lips kept quirking in the most adorable fashion. Or perhaps adorable wasn’t the right word.
He had watched the unfolding scene with more interest than he had felt at a dinner party since…well, since ever, that he could recall. Oh, once or twice he’d been angry enough at Mr. Jarles to seriously consider planting the man a facer, but he suspected the chivalry of the act would be lost on Sophie. What’s more, it had become readily apparent that she didn’t require defending. Sophie Everton, he realized, was an extraordinary lady indeed. She didn’t know it, but two of the gentlemen present were considered eloquent speakers, often in demand for dinner parties and soirees. Rarely, if ever, were they gainsaid, and never by a young unmarried woman.
And yet here she was, trading barbs with men and women of means and rank. And winning. For some inexplicable reason, he felt like crowing at her victory. As if he were somehow responsible for her cleverness. For her. It was a ridiculous notion to be sure. He was there to discover Loudor’s secrets, and she was nothing more than a means to that end. He would do well to remember that.
And God knew he was trying, but it was so easy to become lost in her every expression. The lilt of her voice, the curve of her neck, the way she wrinkled her nose when she was annoyed.
And then there were her lips.
Never had he seen a woman so adept at expressing her emotions with her lips. She twisted them, pursed them, parted them, licked them. And Alex found each contortion more erotic than the last. He caught himself wondering what it would be like to press his own mouth over hers and feel those delightful movements with his lips, his tongue—
“Is something wrong?” she inquired softly.
“Hmm? Wrong?” he responded, only half hearing her.
“Yes, wrong. You’re looking at me most peculiarly.”
“Sorry, was I?”
“Yes, you are.”
“How peculiar.”
“So I believe I said. Peculiar. Are you unwell?”
He snapped back with alarming speed. Unwell? Good Lord, is that what he looked like when consumed with desire? Unwell?
“I’m quite all right,” he stated with a little more conviction than was probably necessary. “Merely lost in thought.”
“Oh, what about?”
“About? Well, I…er…”
Think, man, think.
I’d very much like to nibble on the corner of your mouth.
“The gardens are rather splendid for this time of year.”
Oh, brilliant.
Sophie glanced around as if confirming something. “We’re indoors.”
“So we are.”
“At my town house.”
“Also true.”
“And you were looking at me.”
“So I was, but you are right in front of me, and the gardens are not. As I said, I was lost in thought.”