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His Wicked Charm
“Just so. It would be convenient.”
“I can’t see how. He seemed a dead bore.”
“He inherited my father’s title. But Father left the main house to me. It’s the family seat—the Holcutts have owned it for ages. So marrying him would reunite the estate and the title. Everything would be in the direct line once again.”
“That scarcely seems a reason to marry.”
“Not in my opinion. Though perhaps he is less stiff once one gets to know him.”
Con frowned. “Don’t let them talk you into accepting him. It would be a terrible waste,” he said, his voice unaccustomedly serious.
Lilah glanced at him, surprised. “I would have thought you’d say the two of us were well matched.”
“Lord, no. You are aggravating but never boring.” He grinned. “I am always available to chase off suitors, should you need me.”
A laugh bubbled up out of her throat. “You seemed quite adept at it. Though I must say you overdid it. Eyes as blue as the sky?”
“In my defense, I was unprepared. But you are right, your eyes are more the color of the ocean.” His irrepressible grin flashed. “A stormy ocean.”
“Nor are they like stars in the velvet sky. And hair like the sunset? Really, now…”
“But that is the truth.” His eyes went to her hair, his expression changing subtly. “Your hair is beautiful. It’s what first drew my eye.”
“I thought that was my lilac stockings,” Lilah said drily, struggling to ignore the hot, jittery feeling the look on his face evoked in her.
“No. Your lilac stockings were why I followed you. Your hair was why I was I watching you closely enough to spy your lilac stockings.”
“You have no absolutely no shame, do you?”
“I’m sure I must. Somewhere.”
“It’s well hidden.”
Con turned into a small park, little more than an oasis of grass and a few trees in the midst of the city, and led her to a wrought iron bench in the shade of one of the trees. She sat down, and Con took his seat beside her, his expression so serious it raised a faint twinge of alarm in Lilah.
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