“Most certainly a worthy cause,” he observed without actually committing himself.
“A very worthy cause, my lord,” she repeated emphatically. She spoke fulsomely of the children. She knew each child so well it required little effort and allowed her to retain her focus on the job at hand: to convince this man to invest in something that offered no return other than one of goodwill. In her mind, she ran over the details she’d been able to gather about him that she might employ to better persuade him. Some chink in his armor. He’d been orphaned at an early age, and his estate had been left in the hands of an uncle who stripped his inheritance to the bone before the young lord gained his majority. Once Lord Eaglestone had control of his fortune, however, he’d quadrupled his wealth in a stunningly short time.
A random thought struck her. Eaglestone’s lack of maternal love in those tender years might account for his rakishness and why, at thirty-three, he hadn’t married.
“Where is this orphanage of yours, Miss Lacey?”
“Cheapside, my lord.” She’d almost missed his question. She’d been picturing him as a small boy without anyone to love him, much like one of her lonely orphans.
Bella twirled the rose in her fingers. She must proceed with caution. Keep everything on a business footing. This was not the moment to show her hand. She sensed he would prefer to chase his prey. And she felt very much like prey as his sharp gaze took in every inch of her while he leaned with casual grace against the rail beside her.
CHAPTER TWO
“ARE YOU COLD, MISS LACEY? Shall I fetch your shawl?”
She shook her head. “It’s quite warm tonight.”
Derrick wondered, again, why he was here. He had firm rules. Don’t be tempted to marry, seduce virgins, or bed other men’s wives. He’d broken that last one when Lady Darley had found her way into his bed after he’d imbibed too much brandy at a house party. Her enraged husband had called him out for pistols at dawn. Standing there in the Darley’s park, as a cold sun rose over the chestnuts, he’d been sorry for the poor cuckolded fellow and deloped, lowering his gun without firing. He’d offered Darley a shot, knowing the man couldn’t hit a bull at ten paces, but Darley had still been three parts drunk from the previous evening, and had fortified himself with more drink from a flask, before he stumbled and shot himself in the thigh. Impossible to quell the gossip after that. Derrick considered these experiences only made him stronger and able to resist any temptation that might complicate his life.
Yet here he was. And here she was, dressed in a candy-striped gown, which displayed a cleavage that would fill a monk with lust. Miss Lacey was as he remembered her, a perfect English rose. Her beauty outshone the flower she held. She set him in mind of something sweet. Something to be nibbled on. Slowly.
“You look quite delicious in that pink dress, Miss Lacey, against the backdrop of roses.”
Her delicately arched brows rose. “So fulsome a compliment, my lord.”
“I thought it agreeably descriptive.”
“The word delicious was somewhat overblown.”
He raised a brow. “You dislike my choice of adjective?”
She shook her head, sternly, causing glossy fair curls to bob against her satiny cheek. “I believe we were discussing my charity.”
Her letter had intended to bring them together. No question about it. Her stiff defensiveness made him struggle not to grin, and he tamped down the desire to tease her. “I apologize if my compliment offends. I suffer no aspirations to become a bard.”
She lowered her lashes, but not before he caught the appreciative gleam in her big, blue eyes. “I believe that’s wise, my lord.”
This was proving far more diverting than a predictable flirtation. “You object to a man complimenting you?” he continued, determined to draw her out.
“Not if it’s tasteful.”
He bowed. “Then I shall leave you. I will most likely fail again very soon when you inspire me to utter further overblown compliments.”
As he turned, she touched his arm. His threat had the desired effect. Miss Lacey was not done with him yet.
“Please don’t go, my lord. I’m sorry if I appeared rude. I would like to tell you more about Hartnoll House, if I may.”
“More about your charity?” He raised a brow. “I believe I’ve heard enough.”
She inhaled deeply and her bosom swelled above the low neckline of her gown. His fingers itched. “You’ve decided against it then, sir?”
“I might consider it.” What was he about? He was besieged with appeals for money every day, and the best he could wish for from the virginal Miss Lacey was a light flirtation, although even that seemed an outside chance.