Page 32 of Passions of a Wicked Earl
“Because I inquired. Your sister requires three trunks for the Season, and you do not?”
She laughed lightly. “She is in the market for a husband. I am not. I have a gown to wear to the balls, one for dinner. It’s enough.”
“Have another made. Have half a dozen. My wife doesn’t need to wear the same gown to every affair.”
“I don’t need them. No one will be paying any attention to me.”
“I care not. I can well afford it.”
She fought back her disappointment because she’d secretly hoped that he’d confess that he would pay attention to her. She saw no point in arguing further. She’d simply not go to the dressmaker’s. “At the estate, I can see the stars so clearly. The same cannot be said here. When the fog is not in the way, the lights seem to be.”
Silence eased in around them. She found comfort in it. She could scarcely remember what it was about him that she’d feared.
“I can’t recall if I ever told you how much I appreciated how you managed the estate,” he said.
“I didn’t think you’d noticed.”
“I noticed.”
She sensed true gratitude in his voice, but he also seemed uncomfortable offering the praise, so she sought to put him at ease. “I enjoy it. It fills my days, gives me purpose.”
“Perhaps the next time I visit, you’ll not go into hiding.”
She fought back her smile. “Perhaps I’ll give you a tour. I suspect there are things you overlooked.”
“I doubt it. What I noticed most was the … warmth.” He shook his head. “I can’t explain it, but I can feel it happening here. Must be the heat from the friction generated by you moving all that furniture around.”
Was he teasing her? She was startled by the pleasure she took in it. Releasing a light laugh, she admitted, “I don’t know why I do that so much. But I always have. I think perhaps it’s because the placement of furniture is something I can control. I could never control my father’s temper or the force of his hand when he struck me—”
“He struck you?”
She felt the heat of shame burn her cheeks. “When he was not pleased with me, yes.”
“Did you think I’d strike you? Is that why you feared me?”
“Oh, no. You terrified me but not in the manner my father did. With you, it was more … an uncomfortableness regarding the intimacy we’d share. I simply wanted to know you a bit better.”
His hand came up, settling at the nape of her neck, his thumb coming around to stroke the delicate underside of her chin. Heat traveled down to her toes. The gown without sleeves might have sufficed after all.
“Tell me, Claire, if you’d had a Season, what would you have looked for in a suitor?”
She peered over at him, surprised by his interest. She wondered to what degree Beth’s arrival had put their situation into a different perspective for him. “I would have wanted someone who made me laugh, I think.”
“Strange you should say that as I always thought your laughter was your most compelling feature. Stephen was adept at making you laugh.”
“Yes, he could. His was such a fun-loving nature, although he could be a bit of a scamp.”
“A scoundrel, more like. But he has always charmed the ladies.”
“No more than you.”
“I seem to have failed in that regard when it came to you.”
“I think only because I was still on the cusp between being a girl and a lady.”
Curling his fingers, he grazed his knuckles lightly over her cheek. “Observing your sister tonight made me realize exactly how young you were when we married. But now you’re certainly no longer a girl.”
They sat there for what seemed like forever, the only motion his slow stroking of her face. They were enclosed in shadows, only a hint of distant light to outline their silhouette, and yet she could feel the intensity of his gaze—as though he were striving to understand every aspect of her, as though nothing mattered more than this moment between them. She thought she was beginning to understand how women fell so easily under his spell.
