The Surrender of Miss Fairbourne by Madeline Hunter Page A

that provoked alarming inner shudders. She worried that he did it deliberately, to distract her and make her pliable. To prove that he knew the Outrageous Misconception became less presumptuous with every contact that they had.
    “You are not in mourning today.” His examination moved down her body before finding her eyes again. His voice modulated in deep, quiet ways. He possessed a wonderful voice. Its sound affected her blood even when he vexed her. Right now she was helpless to its effects.
    She self-consciously touched the pale rose muslin near her shoulder. “I am not in public. I am not receiving. No one is going to see me today.”
    “I am seeing you.”
    He certainly was. His attention overwhelmed her. So did the way his resting on the table made him loom large, too close and too
there
.
    “Are you scolding me for inappropriate dress?” She wanted to sound haughty, but she spoke with breathless nervousness.
    A smile. The disarming one. That smile was very masculine. Oh, yes, he knew the effect he was having on her.
    “Far be it from me to scold you about wearing a hue that is so flattering to your complexion. As you said, no one will see you, except me. It is quite private here.”
    Very private. Obediah had left the door ajar a bit, but not by much. The workers sounded far away.
    “Are you staying in town now, Lord Southwaite? You often prefer your country estate, I have heard, even during the Season.” She spoke to fill the silence. Perhaps sound would help her evade the spell he was weaving.
    “I was just there, for several days. I will remain in town for a while, I think.”
    That was not good news. “All is well in Kent, I trust.”
    “All is normal, at least. The volunteer units don their colors and drill, just as they do here in London. The tides still come in and the smugglers still run free. With the navy deployed to stop the French if they come, there is little to halt free trade on the coast now.”
    It took great effort not to react to this inopportune turn in the conversation. “Well, they are no real threat, unlike the French.”
    “If all that crossed were wine and lace, that would be true. However, spies also enter and information leaves.” He sounded preoccupied, as if his mind did not really give much thought to his words.
    Her mind, on the other hand, grew increasingly alarmed.
Wine and lace
. One might think he knew about that wagon.
    She waited for him to say something else, or to move. Neither happened. He just sat there observing her with some private consideration apparent in his eyes.
    Excitement danced in her chest, the beat increasing with each moment their gazes remained locked. She told herself she was reacting like a fool, but that did not stop the sensation.
    She sensed him about to move. It was in the air more than his body, although the hand that rested on the table began to rise. Almost as quickly he halted the movement. One more look; then he broke the power he had been exerting over her as surely as if he had closed a door to his soul.
    She found she was free and in possession of herself again, but not truly glad for it. She sought the thread of a subject that would set aside what had just happened.
    “Obediah said you were asking about matters here,” she said, remembering the way Obediah’s face had contorted in wordless warning before he left.
    “I thought that I should examine the accounts. Have you seen them?”
    “Obediah deals with such things. What would I know about accounts?”
    “They are not difficult to comprehend, if well-done. These are not very detailed, I am sorry to say. There are few names attached to either income or outlays.”
    She knew of what he spoke. She had tried to understand the books, but had given up. There were a variety of possible explanations for such sketchy bookkeeping, and she suspected the earl contemplated them. Considering what she had recently learned about her father’s dealings, she did not want him doing that too