“You’re blushing,” he accused.
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes,” he said, “you are.”
“If I’m blushing,” she replied pertly, “it’s because I’m wondering why you would think you had any reason to apologize.”
“You have a rather smart mouth for a servant,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” Sophie said quickly. She had to remember her place. But that was hard to do with this man, the one member of the ton who had treated her—if only for a few hours—as an equal.
“I meant it as a compliment,” he said. “Do not stifle yourself on my account.”
She said nothing.
“I find you rather . . .” He paused, obviously searching for the correct word. “Refreshing.”