The Unlikely Lady(57)
They both laughed.
“I’m beginning to wonder about you,” she continued. “You know my favorite food is teacake and my favorite author is Mary Wollstonecraft, and now you know my favorite flower is a lilac. If I didn’t know better, Upton”—she paused for a moment and he could have sworn that she blushed again—“I mean, Garrett, I’d say we were becoming … friends.”
Friends? Being a friend was a far cry from being in love. He took a seat and leaned back in the chair next to the bed. “You didn’t even mention the fact that I’ve been sneaking into your bedchamber to get a glimpse of you in your unmentionables.”
“That is quite friendly,” she agreed, studying her night rail that covered her more decently than any gown she’d worn at the house party so far.
“What would you say if I told you I also know your favorite color is blue?” he asked.
Jane’s eyes widened. “Now, that is much too personal. Seeing me in my grandmotherly night rail is one thing, but knowing my favorite color is altogether indecent.”
He grinned at her. “But it is, isn’t it? Blue?”
“Yes,” she replied, setting the flowers on the coverlet next to her. “Appropriate for a bluestocking, is it not? Now that you know so much about me, it’s only sporting if you tell me something about you.”
“Really?” He arched a brow. “Like what?”
“The obvious things, of course, like what is your favorite food?”
“Beefsteak.”
She nodded. “A bit predictable, but very well.”
“Predictable?”
“I was hoping you’d name something outlandish like turtle soup.”
He grimaced. “I abhor turtle soup.”
“So do I, but it’s an interesting favorite food, you cannot deny it.” She didn’t pause for his response. “What is your favorite book?”
“Candide.”
She sucked in her breath. “You’ve read Voltaire?”
“I have.”
“You’re teasing me.” She plucked at the ribbon on the flowers. She’d been doing a great deal of plucking in his company of late. He’d never noticed that about her before.
“No, I’m not teasing,” he replied. “I’ve read Candide at least three times. If you care to quiz me on its contents, my lady, I’m at your disposal.”
She paused for a moment before saying, “Oh, no. That’s silly.”
“Yes, but you considered it just now, didn’t you?”
“How could you tell?”
“You had a certain look on your face. A competitive look. I’ve seen it before.”
She pushed her nose into the air. Very fetching, that. “I only considered it because I enjoy discussing books.”
His grin returned. “As do I.”
“You do?”
“Don’t look so surprised. Contrary to what you might think, I actually enjoy books.”
She bit her lip. “Books have always been my closest friends. At least they were when I was a child. They were my only friends. Though now, happily, I have Lucy and Cass.”
“And me.” His voice was soft.
She averted her gaze, still plucking at the ribbon.
Garrett spoke again to fill the silence. “Why were books your only friends when you were a child?”
Her fingers stilled. “You don’t want to hear about that.”
Settling back in his chair, he crossed his booted feet at the ankles. “Yes I do. I’ve got all the time in the world. They’re planning a hunt today and I’d rather be boiled in oil than go hunting.”
Jane shook her head at him. “That may be, but would you rather sit here and listen to me? You could be doing a host of other things.”
“I’m delighted to sit here and listen to you.” If he didn’t know better, he could have sworn she blushed again. He could get used to making her blush. She was adorable when she did so. “Tell me, Jane. Why were books your only friends?”
She sighed and her shoulders lifted and fell. “Suffice it to say, I wasn’t a popular child.”
“I wasn’t either.” He snorted. “I only had a small set of friends I ran with at Eton and—”
“No. I mean to say I had no friends. None whatsoever.”
He wrinkled his brow and looked at her. “None?”
“Not one. I was an only child and the house was quite lonely. Mama and Papa sent me to school at first, but the other children made such awful fun of me … Then Papa was knighted and I was tutored at home and I was so much happier.”
Garrett narrowed his eyes on her face. “Why did the other children make fun of you? Because you were so much more intelligent than they were?”