Ahem. Now that I've gotten that off my silly chest--
Here's a sample from Scandal. Our sort-of hero, His Grace, the Duke of Cumberland, is sitting in Mr. Trent's coffee house, a few tables over from Miss Anne Kirkhoven, surrounded by patrons drinking their coffee and looking for gossip. Take it away, Cumberland:
His Grace poured a cup — only lesser men doctored Trent’s pure, bracing, potent brew — and leaned back in his chair.
Staring at Anne.
Oh, discreetly, of course. Or pseudo-discreetly, at least. Never blatant ogling nor shabby gaping. Just an intermittent, attentive eye watching beyond the rim of his cup, focus shifting between painted blue flowers and elegant female. Merely displaying his not-quite-open admiration for her breathtaking complexion, the sweet curves of her cheek and ear, the sunlight glinting off her golden hair, the mortified blush spreading from her neck to her forehead and then fading, leaving her pale as death.
The whispers amongst the patrons sank into subdued, horrified fascination. Which was entirely proper; as obvious as he’d made his actions, surely they’d had no trouble tracing his stare.
Finally she glanced at him.
He smiled that smile, dipped his chin, and lifted his cup.
And she promptly showed him her shoulder, a smooth curve of touchable white cambric. Well, it was lovely, too.
His reputation precedes him and it's not pretty. Oh, did you want to watch the book video? Here's the Flickr link. And thanks so much for stopping by!