But on the other side of that coin was the fact that she’d learned a heady amount of useful information about her own physiology and the delicious sensations a debutante might experience when confronted by a skilled seducer. And any scientist who set out to study the differences between gentlemen and scoundrels wouldn’t think of stopping quite yet.
After all, it was vital to note these things for the primer.
Therefore, if she managed to convince him to continue onward and he happened to kiss her again . . . well . . . she decided to persevere. For the sake of research.
“Never fear,” she said to Ellie. “I have everything under control. There is absolutely no need to fret about my virtue.”
Unfortunately, any possibility of convincing Ellie of that fact was obliterated a moment later when Raven came to the conservatory door.
A rush of eagerness made Jane’s pulse skip with light effervescence as she traipsed down the leaf-crowded path to let him in.
Instead of coming directly inside, Raven stared at her with a quizzical arch of his brow. “Little professor, why are you covered in prisms? You’re practically glowing in the sunlight.”
Dimly, she looked down. Her trim bodice and the modest inches of exposed flesh above it were speckled.
“Hmm . . . and so I am,” she said, absently brushing at them. “I was in the kitchen a moment ago and started to wonder if the grating devices would be sturdy enough for ice, in order to make a false snow on Christmas morning for the children, if need be. Though, it appears I’ve covered myself in sugar, nutmeg and”—she paused to inspect an opaque white morsel with a sniff—“cheese.”
“Had I known you were serving yourself for tea, I’d have arrived much earlier.” A simmering pair of gray eyes roved over her in a slow but thorough sweep. He reached out to brush her cheek with the pad of his thumb, then put it to his lips. “Mmm . . . you are positively scrumptious.”
His low growl of appreciation sent floods of scalding heat to every exposed inch of her epidermis. And every unexposed inch as well.
From behind her, she heard a delicate cough. Ellie! She’d nearly forgotten. And now her friend had likely heard an earful that would cast doubt on Jane’s previous statement.
Trying to compose herself, Jane willed her cheeks to cool. It would be much more effective if she had a fan to wave or a sudden blizzard to walk through. “I’ve invited Ellie to our tea. I’d like to introduce you, if I may.”
“All three of us? This high-society tea is getting more interesting by the moment.” He clucked his tongue in mock scolding, his gaze warm and playful as he leaned in to whisper, “I s’pose I should’ve known about your wicked tendencies, considering where I found your glove the night we met.”
“My glo—” Jane stopped, and she knew her eyes must be as round as magnification lenses. The statue. The phallus. Newton’s apple! “It was all perfectly innocent, I assure you.”
A slow grin curled his lips. “Strange, but I’d always thought the word innocent meant something else entirely.”
Turning away from him before her cheeks actually combusted, she walked back to where Ellie was waiting.
Her friend’s expression possessed a wealth of speculation. But Jane merely shrugged her shoulders and shook her head as if to say that none of what she’d overheard had been a real flirtation.
Behind her, Raven prowled into the open glade to join them. He’d taken his hat and gloves off on the way, tossing them both on top of the desk with a careless air. This left him in a gray coat that fit the breadth of his shoulders to perfection, the brushed wool only a shade or two darker than his eyes. His simply knotted white neckcloth made his dark features and rakish grin all the more disarming.
Ellie’s eyes widened. Her cheeks slowly saturated with the pink flush of appreciation—a telltale sign that her heart was beating faster.
Jane couldn’t blame her. In fact, her own heart had been suffering frequent bouts of arrhythmia ever since she’d met him. She’d tried several herbal amalgamations, steeped into teas but, thus far, none of them provided suitable cures.
“Raven,” Jane said, hoping he would begin to behave with a semblance of propriety, “I should like to introduce you to my dear friend, Miss Elodie Parrish. Ellie, this is Raven.”
The scoundrel stepped forward and took Ellie’s gloved hand, bringing it to his lips. “You’re even lovelier when awake, Miss Parrish.”
Ellie’s porcelain complexion turned scarlet and she was unable to form a coherent response. “I . . . hmm . . . that is . . . I believe . . . you’re quite . . . yes, indeed.”
He was certainly not on his best behavior. In fact, he seemed to have come here with the clear intent to scandalize.
“Raven, kindly release my friend from the thrall of your potent masculinity,” Jane said dryly. Then, under her breath, she added, “We are not a pair of cyprians you can balance on your knees.”
But the scoundrel heard and slid her a knowing look as if he thought her jealous. Absurd! He chuckled and dropped the hand—paying no attention to the way Ellie staggered back a step, gripping the table for support—as he moved closer to Jane.
“Your pixie wings are flared,” he murmured in her ear with amusement.
The low vibrations of his deep voice tunneled through her in tornado swirls of tingles and flutters, distracting her. Otherwise, she never would have allowed him to take her own hand and curl it around his arm. By the time she realized it, her fingertips were pressed firmly, almost possessively, to the coarse wool of his sleeve.
Her own response confused her. After all, Ellie was her co-author. An understanding of scoundrels would benefit them both.
And yet, Jane realized with a degree of befuddled dismay, she did not want to share him.
“So, where’s this tea, hmm?” he asked with an uncharacteristic eagerness that drew her thoughts away from the surprising conclusion. He even flashed a practiced smile. “Been saving my appetite all day for these high-society victuals.”
The tense emphasis he continued to put on the words high society offered Jane a sudden insight into his overtly flirtatious behavior. He was acting as though he were being cornered again, and his manner of lashing out in defense was by saying shocking things.
She brushed her fingertips soothingly over his sleeve before she led him out of the conservatory, and hoped that Ellie had recovered enough to follow.
“I’m afraid this will greatly disappoint you, then,” Jane said with a glance over her shoulder to see that Ellie had come out of her daze and was joining them in the hall. “Tea, after all, is nothing more than leaves sitting in hot water.”
He issued a grunt of disbelief as his gaze toured the polished marble floors and intricately molded arched ceiling. Then he gave a sideways glance to a baroque tapestry hanging above a pair of gilt bronze maiden lamps and a gold snuffbox, resting on a glossy bombe chest.
She didn’t want him to focus on the disaster of opulence that had been born from her mother’s desire to impress her guests, but to think of this as just another house.
“I’m in earnest,” Jane said, drawing his attention back to her as they approached the seaside mural. “There will be scones and possibly a small sandwich or two. It will be much like our sharing tea and toast,” she added quietly. “Nothing at all elaborate. This is merely a simple . . .”