Page 6 of Why Do Rogues Fall in Love?

“Just George.”

She choked back the immediate reply that she most certainly would not call a gentleman she had only just met by his Christian name.

“Permit me to know yours.”

Cordelia considered giving him her proper name but quickly dismissed the notion. She had no desire for him to identify either her or her family, and she could only hope he had not determined which neighboring house she had climbed from. The Maubrys occupied one of the lower rungs of the ton’s aristocracy, newly elevated and easily overlooked among Mayfair’s older families. Besides, he had introduced himself simply as George, surrendering neither surname nor title. If he possessed a title, it was rather perverse of him to conceal it, though perversity was beginning to seem entirely in character.

“Have you forgotten your own name as well?” he asked, that provoking half-smile lingering about his mouth.

“Miss Cori,” she murmured.

She managed the smallest curtsy her burden and borrowed trousers permitted, then turned to leave.

“Surely,” he drawled, “you do not mean to trespass upon my home, threaten me with a blade, abscond with Lord Wellington, and then depart without making some amends for thoroughly disrupting my evening. I believe I am owed some compensation.”

CHAPTER 3

Cordelia halted, her pulse suddenly beating briskly in her ears. When she turned back, she met his gaze and saw at once that his eyes danced with amusement rather than accusation. An unwelcome little lurch stirred beneath her ribs. “I admit my entry was somewhat unconventional, but as it was necessitated by your actions, I cannot fathom what compensation I might possibly owe you, Mr. George.”

Cordelia was rather proud of how unflappable she sounded.

He smiled, clearly amused by her stubborn refusal to address him with the familiarity he had invited. There was something unapologetically wicked in that half-smile, something that suggested he knew precisely how disreputable he appeared and rather enjoyed it.

“I was bored,” he continued lightly. “Contemplating the tedious sameness of existence. Then you trespassed into my awareness. I find I have a weakness for interesting things, particularly when they relieve my ennui.”

Cordelia frowned faintly. Trespassed into his awareness?

She did not know what to make of such a peculiar admission. There was something unexpectedly intimate about the notion that she had intruded not merely upon his home, but upon his thoughts. Worse, some foolish part of her was rather pleased by it.

She promptly suppressed that realization. Determined to appear neither easily flustered nor quite as innocent as she truly was, Cordelia said with studied nonchalance, “And am I to understand that relieving your ennui has somehow become my responsibility?”

His mouth twitched. “Not at all. My ennui has simply retreated considerably since making your acquaintance.”

“How fortunate for you.”

“I am indeed remarkably fortunate that you are unlike any other lady I have met.”

There was something faintly mocking in his expression as he said it, as though the words amused him more than they moved him, and whatever significance another gentleman might have attached to such an admission was entirely absent from his.

Cordelia narrowed her eyes, uncertain whether he meant to flatter or provoke her. Somehow, she suspected he was trying to do both. “I gather you believe I ought to concern myself with the notion that I have somehow found a place among the interesting things that capture your attention, Mr. George?”

“As a recipient of my kindness, I daresay some part of you should.”

“Your kindness?”

“I have neither summoned a constable nor raised the household. I have even refrained from relieving you of that rather threatening cane, particularly after you confessed how skilled you are with the blade and warned that you might use it before our...interlude is over.” His mouth curved. “Thus far, I have behaved with remarkable restraint.”

The peculiar emphasis he placed upon the final word sent another of those inexplicable flutters through her belly. Cordelia tightened her fingers around the head of her cane. “If this is what you consider remarkable restraint, I confess I should be quite alarmed to discover what you consider indulgence.”

For a moment, he merely stared at her. “Careful, Miss Cori,” he murmured.

Her chin lifted. “Of what?”

“Questions such as that.”

Cordelia stared at him. “I asked no question.”

“No?” His gaze held hers with such deliberate attention that she became painfully aware of the space separating them. “Then I must have mistaken the curiosity.”