Page 18 of How to Tempt an Earl

Her thoughts spun. “They are the reason you agreed to attend Lady Crowley’s ball and take your place as the new earl?”

“Yes.”

Again, no hesitation. She had thought his motivations were different. Never had she suspected he was going through with his lessons because he cared for his sisters.

“Now as for the tailor, will you accompany me?” he asked.

She turned her attention back to the matter at hand and what he was asking. “I cannot. Surely you realize we must not be seen together.”

“The tailor will come here. As for tattling tongues, money will buy his silence.”

“A good tailor does not make house halls.”

“He will for me.”

She placed her hands on her hips. “How can you be so arrogant?”

“It’s not arrogance. In my experience, tradesmen will accommodate a customer who pays them for their work rather than take months or even years to compensate them, like many members of the aristocracy tend to do.”

She couldn’t argue with that assessment. Creditors had been hounding her father for over a year to pay for their services.

“You speak so confidently as if people can easily be bought,” she said.

His gaze wandered to her face. “In my experience, most can, although there are exceptions.”

She felt her cheeks grow warm. She lowered her gaze and pretended interest in his clothing. “Your dress is only a start. It’s not just the clothing, but how you wear them. A gentleman must move gracefully.”

“I never slouch.”

“No, you don’t. But you walk differently, like you’re always on guard.”

He walked like a predator, a large jungle cat. Dangerous, cunning, and graceful in a different way. Like he was ready to pounce on an enemy at the slightest provocation.

“A man must always be ready to protect what belongs to him,” he said.

“But you must appear at ease. Elegant, remember?”

He snorted. “Ladies are elegant.”

“Gentlemen are as well.”

“Not real men.”

As he said it she realized he was right. The men of the ton with whom she was acquainted acted more feminine than masculine. The dandies of the beau monde were more consumed with their appearance than most women. She was startled by her thoughts: she didn’t want to agree with him on any topic.

She also didn’t want to feel the slightest attraction for him. Ian Swift was different. The man radiated power and pure masculinity. It was unnerving.

“Don’t be difficult. You were raised in an earl’s household. You must have been properly tutored. You should be familiar with everything I’m saying.”

“I don’t want to talk about my upbringing,” he said in a clipped tone. “I left my father’s house long ago.”

“But you must take your deceased brother’s place as the heir to the earldom.”

“I may now be the legal heir, but I will never take my brother’s place.” His voice grated harshly.

For the first time, she realized he was not happy with the turn of events—that there was real loss beneath his armor of indifference. His tone was different than when he spoke of his father. She wondered what his relationship had been with his brother and how it had affected him.

She tilted her head to the side and regarded him. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to suggest you would replace him.”