But Benedict Bridgerton was obviously determined not to be a gentleman this afternoon, because when she moved one of her feet-just to flex her toes, which were falling asleep in her shoes, honest!-barely half a second passed before he growled, "Don't even think about it."
"I wasn't!" she protested. "My foot was falling asleep. And hurry up! It can't possibly take so long to get dressed."
"Oh?" he drawled.
"You're doing this just to torture me," she grumbled.
"You may feel free to face me at any time," he said, his voice laced with quiet amusement. "I assure you that I asked you to turn your back for the sake of your sensibilities, not mine.
What are you smiling about?" Benedict demanded.
She didn't bother to glance up as she replied, "I'm plotting your demise."
He grinned-not that she was looking at him, but it was one of those smiles she could hear in the way he breathed.
She hated that she as that sensitive to his every nuance. Especially since she had a sneaking suspicion that he was the same way about her.
"At least it sounds entertaining,"he said.
"What does?" she asked, finally moving her eyes from the lower hem of the curtain, which she'd been staring at for what seemed like hours.
"My demise," he said, his smile crooked and amused. "If you're going to kill me, you might as well enjoy yourself while you're at it, because Lord knows, I won't."
Her jaw dropped a good inch. "You're mad," she said.
So now you're jumping out at me from closets?"
"Of course not." He looked affronted. "That was a staircase."
Sophie peered around him. It was the side staircase. The servants' staircase. Certainly not anyplace a family member would just happen to be walking. "Do you often creep down the side staircase?" she asked, crossing her arms.
He leaned forward, just close enough to make her slightly ucomfortable, and, although she would never admit it to anyone, barely even herself, slightly excited. "Only when I want to sneak up on someone.
Why didn't you just let me run home?" she asked.
"I wanted you here," he said simply.
"But why?" she persisted.
He shrugged. "I don't know.Punishment, perhaps, for spying on me."
"I wasn't-" Sophie's denial was automatic, but she cut herself off halfway through, because of course she'd been spying on him.
"Smart girl," he murmured.
She scowled at him. She would have liked to have said something utterly droll and witty, but she had a feeling that anything emerging from her mouth just then would have been quite the opposite,so she held her tongue. Better to be a silent fool than a talkative one.
"It's very bad to spy on one's host," he said, planting his hands on his hips and somehow managing to look both authoritative and relaxed at the same time.
"It as an accident," she grumbled.
"Oh,I believe you there," he said. "But even if you didn't intend to spy on me, the fact remains that when the opportunity arose, you took it."
"Do you blame me?"
He grinned. "Not at all.I would have done precisely the same thing."
Her mouth fell open.
"Oh,don't pretend to be offended," he said.
"I'm not pretending."
He leaned a bit closer. "To tell the truth, I'm quite flattered."
"It was academic curiosity," she ground out, "I assure you."
His smile grew sly. "So you're telling me that you would have spied upon any naked man you'd come across?"
"Of course not!"
"As I said," he drawled, leaning back against a tree, "I'm flattered.
Do you live here?" Sophie asked dryly.
"No," he said, plopping down into the chair next to her, "although my mother is constantly telling me to make myself right at home."
She could think of no witty rejoinder, so she merely "hmmphed" and stuck her nose back in her book.
He plunked his feet on the small table in front. "And what are we reading today?"
"That question," she said, snapping the book shut but leaving her finger in to mark her place, "implies that I am actually reading, which I assure you I am unable to do while you are sitting here."
"My presence is that compelling, eh?"
"It's that disturbing.
I would be pleased to participate in this conversation to a greater degree," he drawled, "except that you have not seen fit to share with me any of the details of your life."
"It was not an oversight on my part."
He clucked disapprovingly. "So hostile."
Her eyes bugged out. "You abducted me-"
Coerced," he reminded her.
"Do you want me to hit you?"
"I wouldn't mind it," he said mildly. "And besides, now that you're here, was it really so very terrible that I browbeat you into coming? You like my family, don't you?"
"Yes,but-"
"And they treat you fairly, right?"
"Yes,but-"
"Then what," he asked, his tone most supercilious, "is the problem?"
Sophie almost lost her temper. She almost jumped to her feet and grabbed his shoulders and shook and shook and shook, but at the last moment she realized that that was exactly what he wanted her to do.And so instead she merely sniffed and said, "If you cannot recognize the problem, there is no way that I could explain it to you."
He laughed,damn the man. "My goodness," he said, "that was an expert sidestep."
She picked up her book and opened it. "I'm reading."
"Trying,at least," he murmured.
She flipped a page, even though she hadn't read that last two paragraphs. She was really just trying to make a show of ignoring him, and besides, she could always go back and read them later, after he left.
"Your book is upside down," he pointed out.
Sophie gasped and looked down. "It is not!"
He smiled slyly. "But you still had to look to be sure, didn't you?"
She stood up and announced, "I'm going inside."
He stood immediately. "And leave the splendid spring air?"
"And leave you," she retorted, even though his gesture of respect was not lost on her. Gentleman did not ordinarily stand for mere servants.
"Pity," he murmured. "I was having such fun."
Sophie wondered how much injury he'd sustain if she threw the book at him. Probably not enough to make up for the loss to her dignity.
What are you up to?" she asked.
"Why would you think I'm up to anything?"
Her lips pursed before she said, "You wouldn't be you if you weren't up to something."
He smiled at that. "I do believe that was a compliment."
"It wasn't necessarily intended as such."
"But nonetheless," he said mildly, "that's how I choose to take it.
Sophie stared at the door, trying desperately to keep her eyes focused on anything but Benedict. She'd spent all week hoping for a glimpse,but now that he was here, all she wanted was to escape. If she looked at his face, her eyes inevitably strayed to his lips. And if she looked at his lips, her thoughts immediately went to their kiss. And if she thought about the kiss...
"I need that thimble," she blurted out, jumping to her feet. There were some things one just shouldn't think about in public.
"So you said," Benedict murmured, one of his eyebrows quirking up into a perfect-and perfectly arrogant-arch.
"It's downstairs," she muttered. "In my room."
"But your room is upstairs," Hyacinth said.
Sophie could have killed her. "That's what I said," she ground out.
"No," Hyacinth said in a matter-of-fact tone, "you didn't."
"Yes," Lady Bridgerton said, "she did. I heard her."
Sophie twisted her head sharply to look at Lady Bridgerton and knew in an instant that the older woman had lied. "I have to get that thimble," she said, for what seemed like the thirtieth time. She hurried toward the doorway, gulping as she grew close to Benedict.
"Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself," he said, stepping aside to allow her through the doorway.But as she brushed past him, he leaned forward, whispering, "Coward.
She glared at him. "I'm not asking you to apologize."
"Well, that's a relief.I doubt I could find the words.
But if he had indeed blushed-and his cheeks did feel a touch warm-neither of his brothers saw it, because they didn't say anything, and if there was anything in life as certain as, say, the sun rising in the east,it was that a Bridgerton never passed up the opportunity to tease and torment another Bridgerton.
"She's been talking about Penelope Featherington nonstop," Colin said with a scowl. "I tell you, I've known the girl since we were both in short pants. Er, since I was in short pants, at least. She was in..." He scowled some more, because both his brothers were laughing at him. "She was in whatever it is that young girls wear."
"Frocks?" Anthony supplied helpfully.
"Petticoats?" was Benedict's suggestion.
"The point is," Colin said forcefully, "that I have known her forever, and I can assure you I am not likely to fall in love with her."
Anthony turned to Benedict and said, "They'll be married within a year.Mark my words."
Colin crossed his arms. "Anthony!"
"Maybe two," Benedict said. "He's young yet."
"Unlike you," Colin retorted. "Why am I besiged by Mother, I wonder? Good God, you're thirty-one-"
"Thirty," Benedict snapped.
"Regardless, one would think you'd be getting the brunt of it.
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