Page 16 of A Proposition for the Comte

‘Do you try to make yourself unattractive, Lady Addington?’

She nearly missed her step.

‘The turban does not suit you. Neither does the gown.’

The shock of such an unexpected and personal remark ran through her unchecked. ‘My dressmaker would be distraught.’

‘How old is the woman?’

‘Pardon?’

‘The female who fashions your garments? What is her age?’

Violet frowned, thinking of how hard she had worked all week to modify her ancient gown with her lady’s maid to make it presentable. She had never been offered a budget for clothing when she had been married and now even making ends meet was hard. Harland’s heavy gambling had all but ruined them, the town house the only thing as his widow she had been able to save unencumbered. There had certainly not been enough left for a refurbishment or for new gowns.

‘I think you should hardly be—’

He interrupted her.

‘Tell her to find a dark blue velvet and to slash down both the neckline and the sleeves. More is not always better,’ he added and she saw a definite twinkle in his eyes.

‘The Parisian love of decadence might not suit the British mentality.’

‘And you think the Puritan look does? Look around you. Others show much more than an inch of skin. You are still a woman beneath the heavy serge and one with gentle curves. I felt them when you helped me up from the frozen street.’

‘A gentleman does not mention such things, sir.’

‘Yet it seems to me you need to hear them, my lady. You are hiding yourself and I am wondering why?’

This sort of conversation was one she was unpractised at, though the tone of it was exhilarating.

‘Is every young lord in Paris tutored in this art of shallow flattery?’

‘I wasn’t at school in France.’

‘Oh.’ She was surprised by his answer.

‘I went to Eton and then on to Oxford. A proper English upbringing with all my manners minded.’

‘But then you left. You went home again?’

‘Home,’ he repeated, ‘is often not where one expects it to be.’

‘You talk in riddles, my lord, and I comprehend that your dancing style is so much more proficient than my own. Do not ask me to stand up with you again because I shall refuse.’

‘Because you would worry about the opinions of those around you?’

‘Oh, indeed I would, sir. If you do not realise that, then you fail to know me at all.’

‘A disappointing honesty.’

‘And there are so many more of them.’

‘Violet.’

‘Yes.’ She jumped at his informal use of her name.

‘Stop talking and dance with me.’