Damn. Another opportunity lost. His pride was getting deuced annoying. He could have leaned on her the entire way home. 'Why don't I try it on my own and we'll see how it goes?' he suggested. Maybe he could sprain an ankle in twenty yards or so.
“That sounds a good idea. But be careful not to overtax yourself.'
James took a few careful steps, trying to remember which side it was that had hit the ground. It wouldn't do to limp on the wrong side.
“Are you sure you're not in pain?
He had to be a complete cad to take advantage of the concern in her eyes, but clearly his conscience had departed for destinations unknown, because James sighed and said, 'I think it's my hip.'
She glanced down at his hip, which caused other, nearby regions to feel a bit of pain. “Is it bruised?''
'That is all I can think,' he replied. 'I'm sure it's nothing but-''
'But it hurts to walk,' she said with a maternal nod. 'You'll probably feel better by morning, but it does seem silly to overexert yourself.' She scrunched her brow in thought. 'Perhaps it would be best if you simply returned to Danbury House. If you walk to my cottage, you'd have to walk back, and-'
'Oh, I'm sure it's not as bad as that,' he said quickly. 'And I did say I would walk you home.'
'James, I do walk home by myself every day.'
'Nonetheless, I must keep my promises.'
“I'm happy to release you from this one. After all, you could hardly have expected to be knocked to the ground.'
'Truly, it's not that painful. I just cannot walk with my usual speed.'
She looked uncertain.
'Besides,' he added, thinking that he needed to reinforce his position, 'we still have much to discuss concerning Lady Danbury's garden party on Saturday.'
'Very well,' she said reluctantly. 'But you must promise to tell me if the pain becomes overwhelming.'
A promise easily kept, since he wasn't in any pain at all. Well, not of the sort to which she referred.
They'd taken only a few steps before Elizabeth turned to him and asked, 'Are you all right?'
'Perfectly,' he assured her. 'But now that you have mastered the art of self-defense, I do think we should move on to other aspects of your education.'
She blushed. 'You mean…'
'Precisely.'
'Don't you think it would be wise to begin with flirting?'
'Elizabeth, I don't think you have anything to worry about on that score.'
'But I haven't the slightest clue how to go about it!'
'I can only say that you are a natural.'
'No!' she said forcefully. 'I'm not. I haven't the faintest idea what to say to men.'
'You seemed to know what to say to me. That is,' he amended, 'when you weren't trying to adhere to Mrs. Seeton's edicts.'
'You don't count.'
He coughed. 'And why not?'
'I don't know,' she said with a little shake of her head, 'you just don't. You're different.'
He coughed again. 'Not so very different from the other members of my gender.'
'If you must know, you're much easier to talk to.'
James considered that. Prior to meeting Elizabeth, he'd prided himself on being able to render sniveling debutantes and their grasping mamas utterly speechless with one well-placed stare. It had always been a most effective tool-one of the only truly useful things he had ever learned from his father.
Out of curiosity, he fixed his most supercilious, I-am-the-Marquis-of-Riverdale stare on her-the one that routinely sent grown men scurrying into corners-and said, 'What if I looked upon you like this?'
She burst out laughing. 'Oh, stop! Stop! You look ridiculous.'
'I beg your pardon?'
'Stop, James. Oh, you must. You look like a little boy pretending to be a duke. I know, because my younger brother tries the same stunt on me all the time.'
Pride stung, he said, “And how old is your brother?''
'He's eight, but-' Whatever she had meant to say was lost in her laughter.
James couldn't remember the last time someone had laughed at him, and he didn't particularly enjoy being compared to an eight-year-old boy. 'I can assure you,' he said, his voice pure ice, 'that-'
'Don't say any more,' she said, laughing. 'Really, James, one shouldn't strut like an aristocrat if one cannot carry it off.'
Never, in his entire career as an agent for the War Office, had he been more tempted to reveal his identity. He was itching to grab her and shake her and yell, 'I'm a damned marquis, you little fool! I can be a perfectly good snob when I've a mind for it.'
But on the other hand, there was something rather charming about her artless laughter. And when she turned to him and said, 'Oh, please don't be insulted, James. It's a compliment, really. You're far too nice a person to be an aristocrat,' he decided that this might actually be the most enchanting moment of his life.
His gaze was fixed upon an unremarkable patch of dirt, so she had to duck to move herself to his line of vision. 'Forgive me?' she teased.
'I might find it in my heart…'
'If you don't forgive me, then I might have to practice my pugilism again.'
He winced. 'In that case, I definitely forgive you.'
'I thought you might. Let's go home.'
And he wondered why, when she said the word ''home,' he actually thought it might apply to him as well.
Chapter 11
Elizabeth was surprised how unconcerned she was about the state of her home when she and James arrived at her doorstep. The green damask drapes were faded, and the moldings in need of a new coat of paint. The furniture was well-made but well-worn, with pillows strategically placed over the areas most in need of recovering. All in all, the house had a slightly spare look. There were precious few knickknacks; anything of any value had already made its way to pawnbroker or traveling peddler.
Usually she felt the need to explain how her family had fallen on hard times, and to make it clear that they had lived in a much bigger house before her parents died. Lucas was a baronet, after all, and it was embarrassing that they should be reduced to such circumstances.
But with James she simply opened her door with a smile, certain he would see her little cottage the way she did-as a warm, comfortable home. He'd alluded to a well-born background himself, but he'd also said that his family had lost whatever fortunes they had once possessed, so he would understand her inability to purchase new things, her need to economize.
The house was-thankfully!-tidy, and the: air smelled of warm biscuits. 'You're in luck today,' Elizabeth said with a smile. “Susan must have decided to do some baking.'
'It smells delicious,' James said.
'Ginger biscuits. Here, why don't you follow me into the kitchen? We're terribly informal here, I'm afraid.' She pushed open the door to the kitchen and ushered him in. When he didn't immediately seat himself, she scolded him and said, 'You mustn't stand on attention on my account. Your hip is bruised and must pain you terribly. Besides, it's silly for you to stand there while I prepare tea.'
He pulled out a chair and sat down, then asked, 'Are those your siblings in the garden?'
Elizabeth pushed aside a curtain and peered out the window. 'Yes, those are Lucas and Jane. I'm not certain where Susan is, although she must have been here recently. These biscuits are still warm.' With a smile, she deposited a plateful in front of him. 'I'll call Lucas and Jane. I'm sure they will want to meet you.'
James watched with interest as she knocked three times on the windowpane. Within seconds, the kitchen door
