Sophronia was relieved, honest interest at last! So relieved, in fact, she was a tad unguarded in her response. “As are yours! I searched between the lines for some indication of significance, and yet there was nothing.”
“I’m no great letter writer. Besides which, you gave me no encouragement!” Felix’s eyes flashed in indignation.
Sophronia bit her lip, both delighted and terrified that she still had his affection. “We have not yet learned how to write letters with purpose.”
The boy calmed and his voice became a purr. “Have you learned how to do other things with purpose?” Felix often reminded Sophronia of a cat, always stalking something, seeming bored with life, and then the pounce, a flash of claw, and the thrill of a hunt.
Sophronia felt on safer ground now that he was flirting. “Lady Linette has been teaching us seduction techniques.” She lowered her eyes and then looked off across the gray moor, presenting him with her profile, which was rather a nice one, or so Mademoiselle Geraldine told her.
That statement successfully shocked Felix. He swallowed a few times before saying, his voice almost as high as it had been a year ago, “Really?”
“Oh, yes indeed. Would you like me to show you? I could use the practice on a real man.”
This time he actually squeaked. “That might be nice.”
Sophronia demurred, still gazing over the nonexistent view, then said, “We are to start with longing looks.”
“Oh, are we?”
With which Sophronia turned toward him and raised her lashes. She stared into his eyes, trying to convey alluring desire. She thought of the time they had last danced together, how Felix’s hand had felt at the small of her back, the sweetness of his breath on her neck. She allowed a small smile to play over her lips.
Felix seemed physically paralyzed by her eyes. His own pale-blue ones lost focus. Sophronia noted the remaining kohl about the outside. Daring. One of his endearing foibles. Evil geniuses in training were encouraged to develop eccentricities.
Sophronia let her eyelashes flutter, not too much, only a little.
Felix’s breath hitched.
Now, that was an interesting reaction.
Sophronia tilted back her head, showing neck. This was a gesture of innocence and vulnerability. It also let the rain trickle right down her décolletage and under her stays, but she mentally gritted her teeth against the discomfort, allowing none of it to show on her face.
Lady Linette would have been proud.
Felix Mersey was well and truly hooked. He leaned in toward her, shifting closer on the bench as though drawn by a magnet.
His voice was so low as to be almost a whisper. “My goodness… Ria.”
And then he was bending down, looking as if he might actually kiss her—in the back of an open cart! With Dimity and Pillover right there! Not to mention the stable lads.
Frightened of her own power and of what might happen next, Sophronia broke the look. She lowered her lashes completely and pulled away, offering up her wrist in recompense.
He grabbed her fingers, perhaps too roughly, and pressed his lips into the palm of her hand, kissing up to the small bit of exposed flesh between glove and hurlie strap. Sophronia never went anywhere without her hurlie.
She let him continue to kiss her for a short while, fascinated. It seemed to be some means of coping with an excess of physically manifesting emotion. It was all quite wonderful.
The experiment was spoiled by a scuffle at the front. Everyone’s attention was drawn to where Roger’s friend seemed to have almost fallen off the driver’s box. He righted himself, and Sophronia wondered if the lads had been at the drink, or if he’d simply dozed off.
Before turning back to her escort, Sophronia exchanged a sharp look with Dimity.
Dimity’s expression clearly said, Do you need me to intervene?
While Sophronia’s response was, Not just yet, thank you. I believe I have it in hand.
Pillover’s said nothing. Dimity took up scolding her brother for some supposed transgression to do with shoe habits. Pillover sneezed, unexcited.
Sophronia returned her attention to Felix, careful not to look into his eyes any longer than etiquette demanded.
The distraction had provided enough time for Felix to recover control.
“God’s bones, Ria,” he hissed, unacceptable language in front of ladies. Dimity heard and gasped, but Sophronia let it slide on the grounds of extenuating circumstances.
Felix said, “I should have known better than to allow you to practice those wicked lessons on me. You are a sorceress.”
Sophronia liked that description very much. “Oh, good. It worked, then?”
He dropped her wrist and rubbed at his face. “You shouldn’t do that to a man, not after almost a year of separation and an hour and a half of impersonal conversation at close quarters.”
“I shouldn’t? Why, was it terrible?”
“No, quite the opposite, too much good all at once. You must be careful with those green sparkles of yours. You know Calypso’s green eyes trapped Odysseus on her island for seven years? I could live in those eyes of yours.”
“I think we’d both find that rather uncomfortable.”
“Oh, you know what I mean. Let’s talk about something else, shall we? How about telling me more of your lessons at that school of yours, outside of seduction class.”
When Sophronia smiled quite wickedly at that, Felix changed his mind. “Maybe that is unsafe, too?”
“Why don’t you tell me a little of life at Bunson’s? How are the Pistons? How is your father?”
“Oh, now, my father is definitely not a safe topic.”
Sophronia edged in, testing the waters. “Pickleman problems? They do seem overly demanding.”
Felix didn’t take the bait. “Aren’t all worthy causes? You know he still grumbles about your tricks at the Westminster Hive.”
“Indeed? How on earth did you get his leave to come to my brother’s engagement party?”
“Fortunately for me, he doesn’t know your name, so he did not make the connection. He still thinks Lord Akeldama was involved.”
“And you didn’t tell him the truth?” Hope sprang so hard in Sophronia’s chest, she swore she tingled with it. If he covered for me against the Picklemen, perhaps I can change his mind about them.
“I claimed one of your other brothers was a friend from my early days at Eton. You know I was at Eton before Bunson’s?”
Sophronia nodded.
“I suspected you probably had some brother who was about the correct age. You seem to be lousy with brothers. We might have been at school at the same time.”