Page 5 of Venus in Disguise

Even though it was not a proper smile, Narcissa’s heart quickened at the sight, and she pressed on. “Yes, they are. I know dozens of girls precisely that dim.”

“Perhaps,” he allowed. “But you’re not one of them. Are you?”

For a moment she wondered what she could have done to give herself away, but the desire to test him was too hard to resist. So, she tilted her head to one side and fluttered her lashes at him, the very image of the pea-brained coquette. “I don’t understand what you are asking me, Mr Anson.”

“Fine, have it your own way,” he said, turning away from her.

“Wait!” Panicked to think she had wasted her one chance to speak with him, Narcissa reached out and grabbed hold of his sleeve and was scorched by the glare he levelled upon her.

“You are wrinkling my coat,” he said coolly.

Narcissa let him go like she’d been bitten. “I beg your pardon,” she said at once, adding with a tentative smile so he knew she was only teasing, “I had no idea you were so very fragile.”

“I am not,” he replied. “My coat, however, is easily spoiled and I do not wish my valet to take a vendetta out upon you for having done so.”

“I should take one out on him for that waistcoat,” Narcissa said frankly, before she could think better of it. She swallowed hard, cursing her unruly tongue for speaking without thinking.

Mr Anson went very still and Narcissa held her breath. Oh, lud, now she’d done it. One thing everyone knew about Mr Ashton was his position as a leader of fashion, and most of all, his love of colourful waistcoats, and she’d just gone and insulted it and him.

“You find fault with it?” he asked, his voice perfectly pleasant, but a gleam in his eyes that told her she had best watch her step.

“I do,” she said, recognising the challenging note in his voice. Hoping she was not reading him wrong, and he was not averse to crossing swords with her, she put up her chin, though her heart was hammering wildly now. The urge to turn and run was palpable, but she was no coward. There was no backing down now. “It’s vile.”

“It’s pink, and it’s silk,” Mr Anson replied calmly. “Therefore, it cannot be vile.”

“I disagree. I’ve never seen such a revolting shade,” Narcissa declared, folding her arms. In for a penny… “What is it called? Blushing Megrim, perhaps?”

“It’s called Rampant Fuchsia,” he said, and with a straight face too.

Narcissa choked. “No,” she said, appalled and rather awed by this marvellous bit of insanity. “It’s not really, is it?”

“Yes, as it happens,” he replied, amusement lurking in his eyes as he folded his arms.

Unwillingly, Narcissa’s gaze drifted to his biceps and the way his coat stretched tight over the bulge of hard muscle. She swallowed. “Well, I suppose you just knock down anyone who doesn’t like it,” she mused, unable to tear her eyes from his powerful arms. “Though I think even you are gentleman enough not to strike a lady.”

“Even me?” His head reared back like she’d struck him. “What the devil does that mean?”

There was genuine anger behind the words now, and Narcissa paled. She had not expected him to take her words seriously. “I-I was only funning. I am sure you would n-never strike a lady.”

“Then why did you say it?” he demanded. “Do you think me a savage?”

“No!” Narcissa replied in alarm, wondering what on earth had happened. For a moment there, she had believed he was enjoying their banter. “No, of course I don’t think that, and I beg your pardon for speaking so unthinkingly. It’s only you look at me with such hostility, like… like you despise me.”

The simmering tension rolling off him in waves dissipated and Narcissa let out a breath of relief.

“I don’t despise you,” he replied curtly.

She snorted at that. “Oh, Mr Anson, how good of you to say so,” she said, putting a hand to her heart. “I believe I may swoon.”

His lips quirked, amusement lurking in his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he suggested dryly.

“I shall endeavour not to do so,” she replied with equal gravity.

They stood, staring at each other, both bemused by the sudden lull in hostilities, yet Narcissa was still viscerally aware of the prickling sensation between them. She opened her mouth again, hoping to say something that would not set his hackles up, when a shrill voice called her name.

“Lady Narcissa! Oh, good heavens, my lady, I was worried to death. I thought I might never find you in this crush. You went off at such a pace, and my stamina is not great, you know, my dear. I had to pause for a moment to catch my breath, I quite thought I might swoon, but a gentleman was so very kind as to fetch me a glass of water, and then I was quite all right again. But of course, then you had disappeared and—”

“Please don’t worry yourself, Maud,” Narcissa replied kindly, though frustration at the interruption seethed in her veins. Maud was only doing as she’d been told after all. “I am perfectly well, as you see.”