A Taste of Desire(34)
He flattered himself to think a look from him could do anything but revolt her. Gentlemen had been looking at her for years. She’d grown quite accustomed to being surveyed as if she were under consideration for purchase. But she knew quite well he did so with the sole purpose of unsettling her for he disliked her as much as she did him.
“My lord, I’d have you not play at these games. In the end, it will do little else but distress us both.”
He arched an eyebrow, his smile still in place. “Distress? Why should either of us be so afflicted? I was merely commenting on your appearance, which I’m certain you are well aware could lead even a monk astray.”
A flood of warmth suffused her face despite her best efforts to remain unaffected. From any other man the compliment would have sounded as stale as week-old bread. But from the viscount’s lips, it flowed in a poetry of words that might have brought praise from Tennyson himself.
“But you needn’t fear I have any designs on you. My tastes have always run toward females of the warm-blooded variety. Outward beauty, while pleasing to the eye, isn’t enough to hold my attention. A good disposition is essential, and, Princess, that is one area in which you sorely lack.”
His poetry hit a discordant note, rendering her motionless and mute. Then the indignity of his set-down brought a flash of molten anger. Later, she’d undoubtedly regret the impudence of her response, but the words streamed from her without thought, just a to-the-bone kind of fury.
“And this from a man who can’t keep his trousers above his ankles a minute longer than it takes the pastor to deliver his sermon.”
The corners of his mouth performed a slow grin, spurring her to uncharted levels of viciousness.
“So please, my lord, do save me from the dubious distinction of being singled out by a man who has undoubtedly made it through every whore in every whorehouse in all of London.”
Once she’d finished the vitriolic diatribe, she wondered at the glaring absence of her poise. The vow she’d made to herself after he’d left her bedchamber the prior night—that she’d not allow him to see even the tiniest fissure in her control—had bolted in the wake of his scathing indictment of her.
But for all her rancor, his grin only broadened, revealing a set of straight teeth, white and blinding. She was almost certain he wouldn’t be nearly as handsome with the front set of them—top and bottom—missing.
“Then I can safely presume I needn’t fear you’ll attempt to entice me with your, er, charms, and you in turn are safe from my lascivious and most unwanted attentions?”
Want to entice him? Her? The idea was beyond absurd. “You, my lord, were never in any danger of that,” she said, her tone scornful.
Leaning forward, the viscount rested his elbows on the desk. “Then I know I won’t offend you by saying it wouldn’t matter if that was your intention because you could never tempt me.”
Having regained some of her calm, Amelia silently assessed the situation with more forethought and a clearer head.
He was lying.
Which was not to say that he liked her—or even desired her, for that matter. He could think her as cold as the Thames frozen over in the dead of winter, but he’d no more turn her down than a rummy would a bottle of liquor. His mission, as the reprehensible rake that he was, was to fornicate himself through vast pools of women, the willing ones making the task of attaining the goal that much easier. All his talk was bluster and bravado. Now had she been a spiteful sort of woman, she might have made a liar of him.
“Shall we now move onto a more pleasurable topic, like your duties for today?” His brow raised as if awaiting her permission to proceed.
For all his seeming nonchalance, no doubt he expected her to view him as a man of great restraint. Amelia wasn’t fooled. Nevertheless, she was determined to match him in demeanor if nothing else. Ranting on like a fishwife would do little good.
“Your father tells me you have a good head for numbers. He believes you’d be the most use to me if I put you in charge of the accounts.”
Ah yes, the one area her father thought she showed great promise. It simply boggled his mind that a female could manage such a manly task without straining her inferior, insufficient brain. That “her gift” related to a matter in the financial realm came as no big surprise to her.
“Although I have a great deal of confidence in your father’s opinion, I believe it completely ill-conceived to think of placing something of that importance in your hands.”