A frisson of guilt tickled her. “And your taking the time to accompany me to Little Longstone shall set you back even more.” She swallowed the remnants of her annoyance and smiled. After all, he couldn’t help but be irritating-he was a man. “You’re a true friend-to me and my entire family-and I’m grateful.” Pain throbbed in her shoulder, a physical reminder that someone might truly mean her harm. More grateful than you know.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

He fell silent, and she once again turned her attention to the hated embroidery. With her head lowered, she peeked at him through her lashes and, noting that his attention was focused out the window, she allowed her gaze to drift over him. Thick, midnight hair, with one unruly strand falling over his forehead. Dark lashes surrounding ebony eyes that somehow managed to be compelling and composed at the same time. She liked his eyes. They were calm. Patient and steady, although often vexingly unreadable. High cheekbones, strong jaw, and a well-shaped mouth given to teasing grins and blessed with twin dimples that creased his smooth-shaven cheeks when he smiled. While he wasn’t classically handsome, there was no denying Mr. Stanton was a very attractive man, and she suddenly wondered if there was a woman in his life.

“What are you thinking?”

At his softly spoken question, her head jerked upward. Their gazes met, and her heart skipped a beat at the intensity burning in those normally calm, steady dark eyes. The temperature in the carriage suddenly seemed far too warm, and she resisted the urge to snap open her fan. After a quick inner debate, she opted to tell him the unvarnished truth… almost.

“I was wondering if there was a special lady in London who would miss you during your stay in Little Longstone.”

He appeared so nonplussed by her question, she had to laugh. “I know Meredith has attempted to introduce you to some suitable young ladies, Mr. Stanton. She is the Matchmaker of Mayfair, you know.”