The Duke's Proposal. Sophie Weston
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her an inch.
Jemima shifted in her seat, suddenly uneasy. He could not have disturbed her more if he had actually reached out and touched her.
But all he said was, ‘I’m a natural-born hobo too.’
She bridled at the too. Then reminded herself that was what she wanted him to think. Or did she? She couldn’t really care less what a beach bum thought about her, could she?
She was still pondering that one when he said, ‘I’ve been travelling the world for over fifteen years now. We’ve probably been to some of the same places.’
That brought her up sharp.
‘Um—probably,’ said Jemima in a hollow voice.
‘We must compare notes.’
‘Er—yes.’
‘Tonight, say? We’re going to be eating in the same place, after all. Why don’t I see you in the bar and we can eat together?’
‘Great.’ Jemima’s enthusiasm was so forced that it was amazing he did not notice it, she thought.
But he didn’t. ‘It’s a date,’ he said cheerfully.
Jemima could have screamed. So much for lying low and being her own woman! She had not been on this Toy Town island for more than a couple of hours and already she’d got a date she didn’t want with a man she didn’t like. A man, moreover, who had the hard, dissecting look of a Renaissance ruler who wouldn’t brook being lied to. Tonight, she thought furiously, was going to be hard work.
She stared straight ahead at the road shimmering in the heat and told herself she had to do better than this tomorrow. But for tonight she would just have to busk it. She could do that, surely? Just for one night.
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