Halting before her, he took the box and placed it on the desk, his body brushing hers as he shifted. He radiated heat and smelled, ah…her nose twitched. Sandalwood and something dark, like chocolate but not quite. A hint of brandy. And ginger. His exhalations a gentle, consistent caress against her cheek, he held her hand for a lingering moment, his thumb sweeping the row of pearl buttons at her wrist. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you in a compromising position. Or three. Ruined a new coat with the spill I created so you weren’t discovered behind that pillar, lips locked to Selby’s.” He halted over a pearl, and she had the panicked notion he was considering popping it free, seeking bare skin. “I wonder, does your intended know about your penchant for kissing strange men? Or the unhappiness that forces you into such perilous positions?”
She stilled to nothing but breath as he flipped her hand over and continued the caress, this time to her palm, a part of her body she’d had no comprehension of until this moment. Even though kidskin, she burned, awareness fluttering, shooting jolts down her arm and from her fingertips like a moonbeam.
“Victoria,” he said very softly and shook his head, sending that tousled hair of his tumbling across his brow. “Victorias don’t cause unbelievable amounts of trouble and glare at you like a boxer stepping in the ring. Tori has a nice hum to it. Toris are, conversely, quick-witted, surrounded by mayhem, and utterly enigmatic. A more interesting, if impudent, set. My choice, as it were.”
She grunted, then wished she could call it back when his smile bolstered around the edges. What he preferred was a giggling bundle waiting behind a sealed bedchamber door. Tori? How common. She recalled a shopgirl in Haymarket who called herself thus. Her mother would loathe it. Vulgar, Victoria could just hear her say. The dart of pleasure that raced through her as she imagined that was absurd but unmistakable.
“I like the one you’ve chosen for me,” he added. “Quite succinct and leaves off the insulting second morsel the ton loves to emphasize.”
Blue. Yes, she had called him that. Twice, as she recollected. She yanked at her hand, deciding she wasn’t the only quick-witted one. “I must tell you, I preferred the reprobate.”
“Me, too. He’s considerably easier to live with.” Finn laughed, releasing her hand and taking the appropriate step back. “Never fear us finding common ground, Tori. I have a rainbow of secrets, one in every color. There must be crossover somewhere. You simply have to decide to share yours with me in return.”
The moment drew out, suspended, an irretrievable step into a world, a part of herself, she had long denied. “Secrets bind us, meaning I should trust you because of them? Because you know about my parlor trick?”
Those arresting eyes of his sliced up, pinning her where she stood. “No, oh, no. Secrets are a chasm, a breach to cross. A complication. The parlor trick is why you belong in my world, which makes sense now that I know about your gift.” His throat muscles rippled as he swallowed, drawing her gaze to the provocative sliver of skin exposed by his open collar. “I thought you understood. You should trust me because of the dreams.”
She tripped into his gaze as the night closed in, sealing her in a hushed space where her pulse drummed, her breath caught, and this impossible, appealing man sought to lead her somewhere she wasn’t sure she wanted to go. Sinking back, she grasped the edge of the desk and squeezed until her fingers throbbed.
“Mine have been full of you for months until I’m compelled, most earnestly, to ask you to give me time—at Harbingdon—to figure out why. My dreams, I will tell you from experience, mean something.”
She palmed her stomach, her pulse jumping through layers of cloth to bump against her fingertips. Her dreams were surprisingly informative, particulars he might not want to accept once she exposed them. “If I go…”
“Enlightenment.” He cocked his head, thoughtful, then entertained, she could see by the turn of his lips. A contained bit of theatrics. “About some things, in any case.”
“Your secrets,” she whispered, having no idea why this is what she said when there were so many questions she could have asked. Should have asked. Oh, she was as foolish as the rest of the flock when he’d stated in definite terms he wasn’t one of her puzzles. But the extreme paradox of Finn Alexander—intelligence hidden behind astounding splendor hidden behind a gaze laden with contradictions—persuaded in a way she couldn’t deny.
He stilled, shooting her a sidelong glance, the insinuation nothing her mind could determine, but her body…betrayer, warmed until she felt her cheeks sting, the skin beneath her bodice dampen. “Perhaps a trade will someday make itself known. My confidences in exchange for yours.” He shrugged a wide shoulder beneath wrinkled linen. “Like the Rossby conundrum, there could be worse arrangements.”
Curiosity drilled her to the bone. The one aspect of her personality that held sway above the pragmatism hammered into any aristocratic female from the time they were in leading strings. She was an inquisitive woman in an era when inquisitive women were neither appreciated nor admired.
He’d either made a grave error in judgment or a fantastically intelligent one by hooking her as nothing else could, presenting himself and this trip to his family’s country estate as a mystery.
She knew little about him, while he’d directed her to reveal much about herself.
He knew about her parlor trick, the reckless kisses behind pillars, the dreaded engagement, her family’s finances. With a sinking feeling, she realized she’d done the opposite of what she’d been coached to do, disclosing graceless personal information in uncouth fashion, while the man standing across from her, a byblow accepted because his brother, Viscount Beauchamp, demanded it, sailed his ship through treacherous waters with nary a tremor. Adroitly managing an assemblage set to gut him should he turn his back on them.
She threw a glance at his bedchamber door. Attraction wasn’t the reason he’d been following her, which had been senseless to imagine for one moment as the line of women volunteering for the job stretched from here to Westminster.
He tipped her chin with a long, slim finger until her eyes met his. “Nothing sordid is connected to this invitation. You’ll be under Julian and Piper’s protection the entire time. Under my protection, should you be able to place value on it.”
She drew back from his touch and lied without hesitation, “I never imagined it did.”
“Consider this. Perhaps I can help you decipher your parlor trick. As a friend.”
She felt her brow pinch. Friend?
His deep laughter brought her out of her deliberation. “It’s possible, Tori. Or so I’ve been told.”
“I’ve never had many friends. My brother, I suppose, but…”
His expression shifted, softening around the edges. “They’re nice to have. Especially for those of us with, for lack of a more precise designation, interesting quirks to our persona. This sojourn provides the added benefit of a duke in residence, should he be entertaining the appalling notion of matrimony. At the very least, a country gathering with such esteemed members of society will be a boon for you rather than a set down. My participation omitted, of course. Or at least not emphasized any more than it need be.”