Chapter Four
Eden had blushed so many times during the course of this meal that his face felt permanently scorched. He knew Tha?s was enjoying mortifying him.
A small part of him was drawn to her ribald speech. As much as it horrified his sensibilities, he’d never been spoken to with such carnal frankness.
He supposed the gentlemanly thing to do was admit it.
“I look forward to enjoying your talents,” he said quietly, forcing himself to look into her eyes.
She slapped her hand across the table. “Finally, he confesses he has desires.”
“I never said I didn’t.”
“Could have fooled me. You’ll want to be a bit more direct with your lady on that subject, once you snare her. But you’re learning.”
“I hope I won’t have to do something as ghoulish as snaring her. I’d fancied I could coax at least one person into marriage without having to break her ankle.”
Tha?s laughed, which gratified him. “Well, your conversation is improving. All you have to do is talk to her the way you’ve been talking to me. Ask her questions. Listen to her, and then ask more. Of course, it goes both ways. You’ll also have to talk about yourself, without droning on about hogs.”
“Sheep,” he corrected her. “I don’t keep hogs, except for the—”
“Don’t care! Tell me something interesting about yourself.”
“About myself in what sense?”
“Well, how you grew up? Your parents, for instance.”
He winced. “I’m afraid speaking of my parents may not win me any affections. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
She looked at him with interest. “Why’s that?”
“They were a bit notorious in their day.”
She leaned in, green eyes alight. “For what?”
He hated to talk about this, but he supposed he owed it to her, after she had been so forthcoming about her childhood.
“Well, my father was a poet of modest repute,” he said. “He never quite took to the responsibilities of a landowner.”
“Didn’t care for the sheep?”
“Er, not especially, no. Had a taste for opium. Spent all his money. Would have lost the abbey, were it not entailed. As it was, he let it go to seed.”
“And your mama?”
“He met her in Paris on his grand tour. She was not of high birth—a baker’s daughter. She was quite a lovely woman—very kind, very beautiful—but an erratic character. Sometimes she would wake me to dance in the garden in the middle of the night, sometimes she would stay in bed for weeks.” He paused. “She took her own life when I was ten years old.”
Tha?s’s face went soft with sympathy. “Ghastly. Poor boy.”
He nodded. “It was... difficult. My father, of course, was beside himself. Sent me away to school, left the house and estate a shambles. He did recover a bit after a decade. Remarried. His wife gave birth to my sister, Anna, who of course you know. But they both succumbed to a fever soon after she was born. As Anna’s guardian, I took on her care myself. With the help of a nursemaid and governess, of course.”
Tha?s looked at him grimly. “You’re right. You might save the family history for after the wedding.”
He smiled. “Sheep it is, then.”
She nodded gravely. “Sheep it is.”
He stood, perhaps a bit too abruptly. He did not wish to answer more questions. It was melancholy, speaking of his parents. And it reminded him why he was here: to avoid repeating the mistakes of his father. He would not be an unsteady husband nor marry a volatile woman. He would find a girl trained for a stable kind of life, raised to be a wife and mother and run a grand home. And he would devote himself to being exactly the kind of man his father wasn’t.
He picked up their plates and started walking to the kitchen.
“Need any help?” Tha?s asked, in the tone of a woman who did not in any way wish to help.
He shook his head. “Cleaning is a meditative activity. I wouldn’t dream of letting you deprive me of it.”
She puckered her lips. “I don’t enjoy meditative activities, so I’ll leave you to it.”
He washed up quickly. He was scrupulous about cleaning as he cooked, so there was not much to do. When he went back into the sitting room it was growing dark inside. Tha?s had lit every lamp in the room and was sitting by a window, staring off at the dim rose garden. Her porcelain skin looked lunar in the lamplight. God, she was beautiful.
She noticed him staring at her and whipped her head around. “Ah, there he is. Best you come entertain me before I die of boredom.”
“You needn’t sit idle on my account. You’re welcome to read, sleep...”
She shook her head. “I hate reading, and it’s far too early to go to bed.”
“Perhaps you have correspondence?”
“Perhaps not.”
She looked at him expectantly. “She’s bored.”
“She?”
“The beautiful woman you kidnapped to live alone in your tiny house.”
“Kidnapped! Is that what you think?” He had not considered the ethics of summoning her to this cottage without the full information about where and with whom she’d spend the month until she’d arrived thinking she’d been tricked. He felt guilty, even if there’d been no malice in it.
“Oh, don’t yawp about it,” she said. “You paid for the privilege of my company, so get your money’s worth.”
“I’m afraid I have letters I must reply to in order to give them to Hattie to post in the morning.”
“What kind of letters?”
This he did not wish to tell her.
“Private ones.”
She let out a hoot. “Sounds spicy. Come on, tell the girl. Perhaps I can use my magnificent brain to help you.”
Upon reflection, this was not such a terrible idea. “My secretary is preparing reports on young ladies for me to review. Once I identify which women I wish to meet, he’ll determine which invitations to accept. Usually one’s mother would perform this activity, but as mine is no longer living...”
Tha?s nodded sympathetically. “You need a female opinion. I’ll help you as part of my services.”
“Thank you.”
He retrieved the missive on his desk and settled in the parlor to unseal it.
“Lady Sophia Greenwood,” he read. “Eldest daughter of Lord Peter Greenwood, Earl of Lancaster.”
“Elegant name,” Tha?s said. “And nobility.”
“Belonging to the aristocracy is not a detriment, but not strictly necessary,” he said.
“Why not, milord?”
“Well, whoever I marry will receive my title. No reason for her to be born with one of her own. And plenty of girls have lovely manners and proper education, and that’s all I require.”
“What you mean is, you want yourself an heiress.”
He shook his head. “No. My estate does well. I have no need of a wife with a large fortune.”
Tha?s raised a brow. “So you’re richer than I thought. I guess you must be, to pay such a sum for a month with me.”
He hated to speak of money. “I made profitable investments.”
“Fancy-speak for being rich.”
“Would you like to hear the rest of the letter?”
She waved her finger at him to proceed. “I certainly would.”
“Lady Sophia,” he read, “is regarded as an elegant young lady with a pristine reputation and sterling breeding, as the daughter of an earl and granddaughter of a duke.”
“A duke. Impressive. Too bad you don’t care.”
“She is eighteen years old, in good health, and considered a beauty.”
“Nix. Too young.”
He was inclined to agree. He was more than double Lady Sophia’s age. He’d prefer a girl at least several years older than his sister.
“Perhaps she has maturity for her age, but I do think I’d prefer a woman who is older.”
“Read me the next one,” Tha?s said.
“Miss Emily Harper is the fourth child of Mr. Robert Harper, owner of the Standish Shipping Company.”
“Fourth child. Means her mama was fertile. Good sign for you.”
“Unfortunately, Standish Shipping is involved in trade with the slaving colonies. I’d want no association with such a family.”
“Scratch her, then. Who’s next?”
He read her three different descriptions, and she rejected all three on grounds of the women being, respectively, too old (thirty-two), too urbane (raised in Paris), too recently widowed (a year since her husband’s death). He did not necessarily agree with these assessments, but it was amusing to hear Tha?s’s opinions.
He enjoyed listening to the colorful way she expressed herself. She could have been a poet. A very vulgar poet.
“Thank you for your candor,” he said. “This was helpful.”
“Well, one of us has to be blunt about the options. It’s your whole life we’re deciding. ’Til death do you part is the bargain, so I hear.”
Yes. His entire future was at stake. His legacy.
He stood up.
“Where are you going?” Tha?s asked.
“Forgive me for leaving you unattended, but I must write a reply now.”
She groaned. “Dull, dull, dull he is. Letting me rot away lonesome as a stray mutt.”
“You are far from a stray mutt. And perhaps you have some... handiwork? Sewing?”
She snorted. “The only handiwork these fingers do is under the breeches.”
His mouth fell open.
She laughed. “Oh, don’t act so shocked. I’m a moll.”
He could tell she enjoyed riling him with ribaldry.
It was beginning to have an effect, in that he kept thinking of sex. So much that he needed to remove himself from her company.
“So you are,” he said. “In any case, it’s time for me to retire. I’m going to pen the letter in my room. Good night.”
“Are you joking?”
“Not at all.”
“It’s eight o’clock, Eden.”
“I keep country hours.”
“Well, don’t expect me to be up with you in the morning.”
“I would never ask you for something so harrowing.”
He dashed off his letter in a scrawl quite a bit more slapdash than his usual precise hand, then undressed himself and climbed into bed.
He closed his eyes. But sleep did not claim him.
He was too damned aroused.
Odd. Usually he slaked such urges in the morning and needed no further outlet the rest of the day. But the thought of Tha?s sitting just downstairs—Tha?s available to him whenever he dared to be intimate with her—made his skin tingle. He almost regretted attenuating this process. How pleasant it would be to go downstairs, take her by the hand, and...
He gripped himself, imagining it, and came quickly.
He hoped she didn’t hear the gasp he made.
God knew that she would cackle at it.