Every detail of her outfit had been meticulously selected for maximum effect, and as she spun toward him again, with her fan flicked open and seductively cooling her face, he realized he was gaping. She was an actress, singer, and avid storyteller, but she was also very likely a confidence artist.
How had she learned to conduct herself in such a devastatingly superior way?
She addressed the other woman. “Fish, this is Lord Barrett.”
“My, my,” Fish said a tad snottily. “Aren’t we stepping into high company all of a sudden? How did this happen?”
She didn’t curtsy or provide any sign that she was in awe of Luke or that she should show him any deference.
“Luke . . .” Libby stopped and scowled. “May I still call you Luke? Or now that you’ve revealed your true status, must I call you Lord Barrett?”
“We can stick with Luke. I’m fine with that.”
“This is my dear friend, Miss Edwina Fishburn. Fish? This is Lucas Watson, Lord Barrett.”
“Hello, Miss Fishburn.”
“It’s Fish, my lord,” she responded, “and hello to you too.”
“Will you be joining us?” he asked.
“Gad, no. Libby doesn’t need me telling her how to behave. Even if I tried, she wouldn’t listen.”
His raised a brow at Libby. “You don’t travel with a chaperone?”
“No, but then, I don’t require one. I have my pistol, remember?”
“I stand warned.”
He extended his arm, and she clasped hold. Sparks ignited as they always did when she was in close proximity. The air was charged with so much energy that he was dizzy from wading through it.
“She has to perform tonight,” Fish told him. “Please don’t make her late where we’d have to rush to get her prepared.”
“I won’t let her be late,” Luke said.
Libby smirked. “If you expect me to dawdle with you for hours, you’ll have to entertain me, and I’m easily bored. Will you be able to amuse me for more than a few minutes at a time?”
He scoffed. “You’ll be so thoroughly diverted that you’ll be begging me not to bring you back.”
“Keep hope alive, Lord Barrett,” she saucily retorted, and she sauntered off.
He followed like a puppet on a string.
They walked out to his carriage. His driver and outriders snapped to attention, and as he helped her in and climbed in behind her, they all furtively watched her, their gazes warm with male appreciation.
What would it be like to be bound to such a magnetic woman? Any fellow who tried would likely turn into a jealous, vigilant fool who would exhaust himself by chasing off admirers. There’d be no way to stay sane.
He settled on the seat, and when she moved to the seat across, he yanked on her wrist and snuggled her onto his lap. He urged her forward and kissed her as he’d been dying to do since they’d parted the night before.
As she pulled away, they both sighed with pleasure, and she remained right where she was, a pert breast crushed to his chest. She studied him meticulously, as if hunting for clues that would clarify what was happening, and the explanation was simple.
They were one of those lucky couples who enjoyed a strident, uncontrollable attraction. There were frequent stories about the sort of passion they stirred, and poets wrote sonnets about it, but he’d never believed it was real.
“Who is Fish to you?” he asked.
“She sews my clothes and tends my wardrobe.”
“She’s magnificent at her job. You’re so glamorous.”
“Thank you.”
“I have to admit that I’m surprised by your home.”
“Why? Had you predicted I would be camping in the woods with a wagon of gypsies?”
“Yes. I’m a terrible snob, and I possess every low opinion about actors. I had no idea what I’d find, but your residence is so . . . normal.”
She chuckled. “And I am so abnormal.”
“You live with Fish?”
“Yes, and my cousin, Simon. He’s twenty.”
On hearing a cousin mentioned, he scowled. “Simon Carstairs?”
“Yes, but he typically uses the stage name of Simon Falcon.”
“I met him at a gambling club. He’s a flamboyant devil, so it’s not odd that he would be related to you.”
“We haven’t been in London very long, so he’s been out making friends and opening doors for me.” She wrinkled up her nose. “May I tell you a secret about him?”
“You should tell me all yours secrets.”
“Don’t gamble with him.”
“He cheats?”
She clucked her tongue. “I would never accuse him of cheating. I will just say that he’s worked in circuses and carnivals, and his fingers are quick and sly.”
“You are surrounded by an interesting group of people.”
“I’ve had an interesting life.”
“You certainly have. Were you born fascinating? Or have you grown to be enthralling through years of practice?”
“I think some of it is innate, but it’s mostly practice. My Uncle Harry is responsible for much of my appeal. From the start, he was determined to earn money off my tragedy.”
“That’s sounds horrific. Greedy too.”
She shrugged. “It was all right. I had natural talent, so it was a good path for me. I doubt I’d have thrived in the kind of dreary existence most girls are forced to endure.”
“I doubt it too. So you had family to claim you back then? I’ve been trying to remember how your story ended.”
“Harry Carstairs claimed me and raised me.”
“He is your uncle?”
“He announced to the world that he was, and everyone believed him. Recently however, I found out he was an acquaintance of my mother’s and no kin to me at all. But would you keep that information to yourself? I haven’t told anyone. I’m still a tad disturbed by it.”
At the news, he was aghast. “I’m disturbed too. The authorities handed you over to him?”
“You had to be there to understand how it was. Harry was a very convincing fraud who could persuade others to participate in any deranged scheme.”
“He didn’t . . . didn’t . . . abuse you, did he? He didn’t mistreat you?”
“No. He was generally a grand fellow, and he gave me a grand future. Look at me!” She waved over her torso. “I wouldn’t have become the person I am without him.”
They were nose to nose,
