Bought: The Penniless Lady by Deborah Hale Page A

hand, am like our nephew.” Hadrian sprang forward to pull a chair out for her. “I find strong emotions tiring. When my feelings are stirred up, I am more apt to…react excessively to the most trivial incidents.”
    Once Artemis was settled at the table, he rang the bell to summon a servant. Then he took a seat across from her. “Has that ever happened to you?”
    His question startled her almost as much as his bewildering kiss the previous evening, and for almost the same reason. It was such a private subject—one might say intimate —to speak of one’s deepest feelings. She had seldom discussed such matters with anyone, not even her sister, who’d been her closest confidante.
    However, like his kiss, Hadrian’s candor had a seductive effect that lured her to respond in kind. “I never thought of it in that way. But since you mention it, I suppose it has.”
    “I believe you will agree we’ve both had our feelings wrought up of late.”
    The corner of her lips arched, quite against her will. “That is a masterpiece of understatement.”
    His features crinkled into a wry, reluctant-looking grin that might have mirrored hers. “So we have found a bit of common ground at last.”
    Before she could decide how to reply, the waiter arrived, carrying a large tray laden with covered dishes. Artemis was grateful for the interruption as well as the food. Overwrought emotions might play havoc with her sleep, but they did not spoil her appetite.
    The waiter set all the dishes on the table, then whisked off the covers, releasing succulent aromas to waft through the small parlor.
    “Our compliments to the kitchen,” said Hadrian. “This all smells very good. I will ring if there is anything else we need.”
    Artemis could not decide whether she was sorry or gladhe had dismissed the servant. This meal would be awkward enough without an audience. On the other hand, having someone else present might keep Hadrian from delving into private matters.
    Once the waiter had gone, Hadrian reached for the nearest dish. “Will you have some loin of pork?”
    “Please.” Artemis held out her plate, relieved to be talking about something as harmless as the food.
    He helped her to a generous portion of meat. “Veal pie? Asparagus? Batter pudding?”
    “A little of everything, if you please.”
    He filled her plate. While his hands and part of his attention were occupied with the task, he spoke in an offhand way, as if making polite table talk. “I had no idea traveling with a young child could be such an ordeal.”
    “I tried to warn you.” Artemis could not resist the urge to remind him.
    “So you did.” He gave a rueful shrug. “But you’ll soon discover I do not make a habit of heeding naysayers. If I had avoided every undertaking someone warned me might be difficult, I would never have made my fortune.”
    Though she still wished he had heeded her in this instance, Artemis could not suppress a grudging flicker of admiration for his tenacity and strength of will. All her life she had let her actions be guided by the wishes of others. Wedding Hadrian Northmore over her uncles’ objections had been her first real act of rebellion and she was not convinced she had done the right thing.
    Hadrian handed Artemis her well-laden dinner plate, then proceeded to fill his. “If the rest of our journey is as bad as today, heaven help us all.”
    Artemis nodded as she took a bite of succulent roast pork. One benefit of traveling with Hadrian Northmore—she had not eaten so well in months.
    “Do you reckon we can put our differences aside for a few days?” he asked. “Can we work together to keep young Lee in good humor for the rest of our journey?”
    Part of her wanted to point out that he was responsible for this situation, and to ask why she should share the consequences. But blaming Hadrian would not keep Lee from screaming all the way to Durham. “A short while ago you said we had a bit of common ground and you were right.