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David couldn’t help but laugh at her honesty. “It’s an acquired taste.”

Jenny made a noncommittal noise. “Hmm, just like men. No wonder you drink it.”

David chuckled while pouring her some punch his maid had brought in specially for her visit. “Here, drink this.”

Jenny accepted the punch and took a sip. Her shoulders dropped in appreciation. “Much better, thank you.”

“Of course. Now, tell me, what did you mean by how I go from one extreme to the other?”

Jenny waved him off. “Oh, that. Well, when we met in the library, as you said, we were in a similar situation of closeness, and I thought… well, I thought…”

David put his whisky down and folded his arms across his chest. He knew where she was going with this, but watching her fish for words was entertaining.

“You thought what?”

Jenny closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. “I thought you were going to kiss me.” She opened her eyes and stared down at her feet. “Then again in your office, then at the party, and now…” She covered her face. “I’m sorry, this is all so embarrassing. I feel I have made a mistake. I should go.” She put her glass down and turned.

David grabbed her shoulders, turning her back to face him. “Look at me, Miss Bennett.”

Jenny’s eyes, however, remained trained on the floor.

“Look at me, Jenny,” he demanded.

Her eyes flew to his at the mention of her name.

“This is exactly why you should be here. I mentioned before that courting is a game—a game of risk, a game of chance. In order to win, you need to get close to the enemy.”

Jenny cracked a smile. “Enemy? I thought I was looking for a match?”

“Make no mistake, Miss Bennett, most men approach finding a bride like going to war. There will be strategic maneuvers, doing things you don’t want to do, but in the end, someone will cave, concessions will be made, and a match will be set.”

Jenny fluttered her eyelashes. “How romantic.”

David smirked. “You asked for help to find a match, not love.”

Jenny nodded her head in agreement. “Touché.”

David let her shoulders go and went back to the drink cart, taking another sip of his whisky.

“I do often wonder, though.” Her voice was soft, inquisitive. “How easily you go from being so close to kissing someone to walking away. I was led to believe that most men can’t stop once they start something.”

David knew she was goading him, but he couldn’t help feeling a flash of anger at her words. “Where have you heard that? Unless you’re telling me you’re speaking from experience.”

Jenny cocked her head. “I assure you, the only experience I have is with you.”

David didn’t want to know why that response soothed his ego.

“But women talk.” She shrugged. “I assume they’re talking about similar predicaments to the one you and I were in.”

David’s hands tightened around his tumbler. Her naïveté was endearing and a constant reminder that he was dealing with an inexperienced young woman.

He took a deep breath and let it out. “Something like that,” he muttered. “But to answer your question, I go from one extreme, as you say, to another because I try not to let anything rile me. Most of the time, situations such as those at a dinner or a ball are not worth the worry.”

“Have you always had a cynical outlook on life?”

Jenny’s voice was laced with pure curiosity, but her question brought up better-forgotten memories.

David shuddered, trying to steer the conversation away from his past and back to their arrangement. “I’ve been around enough to know where importance lies and what can, and should, be left alone to sort itself out.”