No Earls Allowed (The Survivors #2)(106)

Collette heard his words, but she didn’t exactly comprehend them. He had the loveliest baritone voice, not too high and not too low. Exactly perfect.

“Miss Fournay,” Beaumont said.

She blinked and raised her brows at the use of the name she’d almost come to believe was actually hers.

“Give me your hand,” he said.

She held out her gloved hand. He took it and raised it to his lips, kissing the back with a lingering slowness that sent shivers up her spine. And when he should have released her hand and stepped back, he held onto it when he straightened. His gaze never left hers.

“Well, then, I suppose my duty is done,” Mrs. Saxenby said, sounding somewhat miffed. “Excuse me.” And with the silk of her skirts rustling, she walked away, ostensibly to tend to her other guests. Collette could not have said because she was physically incapable of dragging her gaze away from Mr. Beaumont. She should have taken her hand back as well, but she would have as soon dipped it in hot tar than remove it from Beaumont’s gentle hold. Though they both wore gloves, she imagined she could feel the heat from his skin seeping into her own, and just the idea of his bare flesh touching hers made her face flush hotter. She feared her cheeks were red as apples.

Collette had no idea how long the two of them stood there, gazing at each other, hands clasped together. It felt like hours to her and yet like no time at all when he finally released her hand. And then she didn’t quite know what to do with it. She left her hand hanging in midair because it hardly felt like hers any longer.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, indicating the couch cushion beside her.

It was. Lady Ravensgate would return and expect to sit there. But Collette shook her head.

“May I sit beside you?”

She nodded, wishing she could somehow force her lips to move or her voice to return.

“You have not been in Town long, have you?” Beaumont asked. He didn’t seem to require an answer because he went on speaking without waiting for one. “No, I would have noticed you before if you had been here during the Season.”

Collette could not have imagined why. There was nothing special about her—she was shy, average in height and looks, and no one of consequence.

“Mrs. Saxenby tells me you are from France. Lovely country. I spent considerable time there during the war.”

The war. Her father. Collette snapped out of her trance and hastily looked about the room. Palmer and Thorpe were still standing in the middle of the room, but she had no idea what they were discussing. Had they moved on or were they still conversing about the intercepted communications?

“I’ve been wanting to meet you since I first noticed you,” Beaumont was saying. His voice carried over those of Palmer’s and Thorpe’s, and she couldn’t hear what the men were saying. She wanted to move closer, but there was no way to excuse herself and do so without drawing attention. Indeed, when she scanned the chamber she noted that practically every female eye in the drawing room was on her. Even Lady Ravensgate watched her, her expression inscrutable.

“And I think you have been wanting to meet me.”

Collette frowned and glanced back at Beaumont. She hadn’t been wanting to meet him. She’d admired him on occasion—oh, very well, on every occasion—but she hadn’t sought an introduction and had no desire to meet him. He was a distraction, and she could not afford distractions.

“Now is your chance,” he said. “What would you like to know about me? Or perhaps you’d rather take a turn about the room on my arm?”

Collette’s eyes widened. Was the man serious? Did he really think she had been doing nothing but waiting for the chance to hear all about him or serve as decoration for his side? Oh, she did not have time for this sort of conceit.

But she must say something. Even if only a few words to dismiss him. She opened her mouth to say Pray, excuse me. Instead, she said, “Hedgehogs show promiscuous mating behaviors.”

Beaumont’s brows rose, his slumberous violet eyes becoming more alert. “Did you say hedgehogs?”

Collette felt her hot cheeks burst into flames. “Yes. Erinaceus europaeus.” Oh, why would she not shut up? Her mouth seemed to move of its own accord. “The sows and boars do not form pair bonds.”

Beaumont’s lips twitched as though he held back a smile. He had very nice lips. The lower lips was full while the upper lip boasted a decadent indent she would have liked to lick. “What else do you know about the mating rituals of hedgehogs?” he asked.

Rien. Rien du tout! But her foolish mouth did not obey. “Both sexes may have several partners during the mating season.” She would explode. She would burst into a shower of sparks and explode.

“Ah, so very much like the ton during the social Season,” he said. “But I wonder—”

No! She could not allow this to go on.

“Excuse me,” she said, bounding to her feet before she began to spout off about scent-marking. She stumbled forward, feeling almost drunk and desperate to be anywhere but in the presence of Beaumont. Engaging Palmer and Thorpe was but a dream at this point. In her current state, she did not trust herself. It was almost a worse fate to find herself beside Lady Ravensgate at the refreshment table. But at least she was away from Beaumont. She pressed her hands to her cheeks, which felt warm, even through her gloves.

“I thought I told you he was not someone with whom you should associate,” Lady Ravensgate said, holding her wineglass close to her mouth so her lips could not be read.