Chapter Twenty-Five
When Hattie arrived, it was with an especially fat stack of letters for Eden. Tha?s silently cursed the sight of them. Every page was another quarter hour he’d spend locked up in his study. She wished he were not so busy during the day, and not just because the isolation bored her. By saving all her lessons for nighttime and early morning, he wasn’t learning fast enough.
Their time together was waning, and he needed to practice fucking to gain the cocksureness he lacked. His soft prick was yet another sign that his silly desire to be perfect was ruining his ability to learn, let alone enjoy himself. If he couldn’t last or stay hard, he was right: it would be difficult for him to conceive a child.
She knew that if she could break through his defenses, he would have the makings of an excellent lover. He was watchful and kind. He’d study his woman and learn how to please her like he was mastering a new language. And he was eager, when he let himself be. Nothing wrong with his appetites. He’d be even lustier once he was sure of himself.
He emerged from his study at lunchtime and seemed surprised to find her at the table, surrounded by her own papers. She felt more comfortable with her work after Elinor had helped her, willing to read the last of the pamphlets without fear. And she was bored enough to do anything to keep her mind busy. She’d played so much patience that her eyes twitched at the very sight of her deck of cards.
“I was going to have lunch outside, given how nice it is,” he said. “Care to join me?”
She all but flew out of her seat. “I’ll join with you anytime.”
“What a fresh new vein of humor. Wildly unpredictable.”
“I charge extra for originality.”
She noticed he had a letter in his hand and wrinkled her nose. “You won’t be working and eating, will you?”
“It’s a report on a young lady. I thought you might want to share your opinion.”
“That I do.”
She enjoyed this game. It was fun to hear about all the young maidens who’d swirl about London’s dance floors this season. Tha?s was not welcome at the kind of balls such girls went to, and she was curious.
Eden gathered the assortment of cold foods Hattie had left for them and arranged them on a tray. They stepped out into the warm day, and the air was so nice—soft, and smelling of roses—that Tha?s didn’t even mind the immediate fit of sneezing.
“Had I known you were so sensitive to the blooms of the countryside, I would have arranged for us to go to a city,” he said apologetically. “I truly am sorry to see you suffer.”
“Where’d you have taken me?”
“Hmm. Perhaps Manchester. I’ve never been to Manchester.”
“Manchester!” she cried. “Am I not worth Paris?”
“We both know too many people in Paris. We’d be recognized.”
“Edinburgh then, at least.”
“I’m afraid I have Scottish holdings nearby.”
“Where don’t you people have holdings?”
“You people?”
“Lords. Seems like you all have ten houses at least. And me, just the measly one.”
“What’s your home like?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Yes, I would. That’s why I asked.”
“You’d think it small as a snuffbox.”
“Smaller than this cottage?”
“Three rooms. Big, airy ones, all fixed up for lounging. It’s decorated with pink silks and flowers and Cornelia’s art—mostly nude portraits, of course. And I’ve got the largest bed you could imagine.”
“Unlikely,” he said. “My own bed is quite large.”
“Really? Why, when you sleep there alone?”
“Earls tend to have enormous furniture, along with their multiple holdings.”
“Wouldn’t know. Earls don’t usually bring the likes of me to their family homes.”
“Pity the earls. They’re missing out on a lovely experience.”
That was such a nice thing for him to say that she smiled and patted his hand. “And here I thought you were sore with me.”
“You did?” he asked with concern. “Why is that?”
“All the harassing you to come to bed with me.”
“I treasure your eagerness to share a bed with me. I only wish I were better at proving myself capable there.”
“We’ll get you proven. Now, read me your letter. Let’s see if this is the right woman to sprawl out in your big bed.”
He used his finger to break the wax seal and unfolded the paper. His brow tensed as he scanned it.
“What’s wrong. What does it say?”
“Another young one.”
“Read it.”
“Miss Emily Clark has just turned eighteen. An orphan, she resides with her guardian, Lord Hoover. An heiress, Miss Clark will bring with her to marriage a fortune of—”
“Wait a minute,” Tha?s interrupted. “Emily Clark, you said?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the name of the girl Elinor said Lord Bell is courting.”
“Ah, you’re right. I knew the name sounded familiar. Eighteen, though? Bell is courting an eighteen-year-old maiden? Isn’t he in his sixties?”
He sounded horrified.
“Don’t act surprised. You know he’s a frog-rutting turd.”
“Surely Lord Hoover wouldn’t allow his ward to make such a match.”
“You know him?”
“In passing. He’s a bit odd. Never married and dedicated his life to amassing one of the largest collections of antique daggers in the country. He’s rather elderly himself. Perhaps the inappropriateness of the match has not occurred to him.”
“Or perhaps he just wants her off his hands.”
“He always seemed like a decent fellow, if a bit eccentric.”
“You should write to him. Warn him off Bell.”
“Men don’t take kindly to hearing other men tell them their business.”
“Who cares if he takes it kindly. At least he’ll not be ignorant. Poor girl shouldn’t be delivered to that monster. Especially with no mother to help her handle him.”
“You think that matters? Her not having a mother?”
She was bloody certain of it. Her own past was the proof.
“Of course,” Tha?s said. “Women may lack power to protect their daughters, but they at least have information they can give their girls. And love, of course. Love makes a difference.”
Eden nodded. “Of course. I hadn’t thought of that. I wish my sister had been blessed with a living mother.”
“Anna’s fine. She had you to love her.”
“An older brother is not the same as a mother, no matter how much I care for her. I often found myself flummoxed by how to raise her. Especially once she came of age.”
“It’s not just daughters who need their mother’s love, you know. Sons need it too. I’m sorry you lost your mama so young.”
“And I’m sorry you lost yours.”
“Me too. Likely would have quite a different life if I’d known my family.”
“You didn’t know them at all?” he asked.
“I have foggy memories of my ma. Mostly her being sick. But we had a roof over our heads. And I remember her hugging me.”
“My mother gave the most glorious hugs,” Eden said. “I’d like to marry a woman who can hug like that. Someone with such a great capacity for affection, especially for children.”
The wistful way he said it sent a pang of affection through her. He was such a good man. A sweet one. She wished he knew that better.
“I bet your mother would be giving you so many hugs you’d have to push her away, seeing how you’ve grown up into such a fine person. Doting on Anna as you do. Not to mention how much you love your sheep.”
He laughed. “Yes. She’d be even more proud of my relationship with the pigs. We have two potbellied ones at the abbey. They’re more spoiled than the horses.”
“And here the only pigs I know are the grown-man kind.”
He looked at her with alarm. “They treat you badly? Your patrons?”
“Oh no,” she assured him. “Most of them don’t. Occasionally you get a bad seed.”
“I hate to think of you in danger.”
“I look after myself. I have a bell to pull that rings downstairs and a strong man I pay to sit by it on the nights I entertain. I haven’t had much trouble. Doesn’t stop the bad eggs from being prigs, though. Thinking they own you, just because they’ve paid for a night of your time.”
“You always make it seem like you enjoy your work. Is that merely a pretense?”
“No. I do enjoy it, for the most part,” she said honestly. “Doesn’t make it perfect. But then, what work is?”
“Tha?s,” he said. “I think your mother would be very proud of what you’ve made of yourself.”
She rather thought so too. But she was shocked that he would think so. Shocked and flattered.
She grinned at him. “Now, that’s a rare thought. Most men wouldn’t expect a woman to be proud that her daughter’s a whore.”
“You’re an independent woman of great kindness and skill. You’re brave, and you take care of yourself. And you fight for what you believe in, and to help people. Even this young girl you don’t know.” He pointed at the letter.
Now he was making her emotional. She rarely had such compliments from people outside her close circle, unless they were praising her bosoms or her arse.
She stood up and walked over to him.
“Come here,” she said, holding out her arms.
He stood up and let her wrap herself around him. She squeezed him, this motherless boy just like herself in so many ways, for all she was worth.
And she’d be damned if he didn’t squeeze her back just as tight.
“Tha?s?” he said, when they broke apart.
“Aye?”
“You give wonderful hugs too.”