Emrys smirked at her comment and took another small step in. They were a little too close for polite company now, with their bodies a little misaligned so that his gaze naturally fell to her shoulder rather than her face. He kept his hands in his pockets, but in his mind he reached to touch her and let his hands wander over the curve of her breast and the bones of her corset and down to her hips. It was funny what society considered decent and indecent, Emrys thought as his eyes drifted over the line of her necklace against her bare neck. No one would have batted an eyelash at all the exposed skin stretching between her jaw and the shoulder of her dress, but it was more seductive than her bare stomach would have been. Was that true of all women, or just of her? Did the necklace she was wearing have anything to do with it?

"Reputation depends on restraint," he pointed out. "And that's at least doubly true of young women, compared to men. Though — perhaps widows are in a category of their own," he added mischievously. "You can wander through a garden without a chaperone, at any rate. Do you think that's meant to be a reflection of your restraint, or mine?"

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