line with his.
Blinking, she gave her head a quick shake before she scooted off his lap. Her cheeks flamed red. “I’m sorry.”
“Yes, well, lesson number one is that a simple thank you will suffice in the future, should I do something that pleases you.”
“Thank you,” she said softly as she stepped back.
“You’re welcome.” He loosened his grip on the chair, fearing it would forever carry the imprint of his fingers.
He stood and she stepped back again, failing to meet his gaze.
“Lydia.”
She lifted her eyes to his.
“We shall need to curb your enthusiasm.”
She nodded. “That was a very unladylike display.”
“Indeed. I, for one, am in favor of no formal lessons. I shall simply instruct you when our paths cross.”
She bobbed her head. “That’s fine.”
“Very good.” He started to stride from the room.
“When do you think our paths will cross?” she asked.
He halted, with his mind racing. As seldom as possible hung on the tip of his tongue. He glanced over his shoulder and knew he could not bear the thought of disappointing her. “I shall endeavor to make it often.”
“Thank you.”
He gave a brisk nod before continuing out of the room. What he needed was a taxing ride over the countryside, although he doubted anything he did would cause him to no longer regret his decision to help her.
Chapter 7
T he shrieking began at precisely four o’clock.
Rhys was absolutely certain of the time, because he’d just returned from his afternoon ride and was striding toward his chambers when he passed the large clock in the hallway, and the ear-splitting crescendo reverberated throughout the manor.
The last time his mother had issued such a shrill cry, she’d spotted a mouse hovering in fear beneath her vanity table. Fortunately William had an uncanny talent when it came to catching rodents—a skill he’d mastered during his time in the London streets—and he’d managed to capture the errant creature and remove it from the premises.
Or so he claimed. Rhys suspected William had made a pet of it.
William was already on his way up the stairs when Rhys reached them.
“I’m bettin’ it’s another mouse, Guv’ner,” Williamtossed over his shoulder, slowing his steps so Rhys could catch up.
“ My lord ,” Rhys corrected him.
“No need to be prayin’ about it, Guv. I can catch the fella right quick.”
Rhys repressed a groan. “I wasn’t praying. I was indicating how you are to address me now that we are in residence here.”
“Ah, right, right. I keep forgettin’.”
Before Quentin had taken his unfortunate spill into the family pond, Rhys had distanced himself from his family to such a degree that only a few people had known of his noble heritage. Certainly none of his ladies had known.
They much preferred thinking he was some coarse commoner trained in the art of seduction by Lady Sachse. Lady Sachse whom Rhys had never kissed, much less bedded.
He’d never understood why she took such an interest in other ladies’ affairs—so to speak—when she was as celibate as a nun.
All thoughts of Lady Sachse flew from his mind when his flight up the stairs came to an abrupt halt at the top. William, obviously quickly deducing a rodent wasn’t the cause of the commotion, was gingerly backing down the stairs in an effort not to be noticed.
Rhys scarcely blamed him for his cowardly retreat.
It was not often in this household that two furious women faced off. He would have given the upper hand to his mother, whose voice was causing the walls to reverberate, but for the fire in Lydia’s eyes as she stood between his mother and her brother—the fire, the passion, the warning.
Good Lord, she was a tigress defending her cub.Waiting, waiting for the battle to shift from verbal to physical, at which point, God help his mother.
“Mother?” he dared to utter into the fray.
She spun around, her palm connecting with his cheek, resulting in an echoing crack that caused an
Blinking, she gave her head a quick shake before she scooted off his lap. Her cheeks flamed red. “I’m sorry.”
“Yes, well, lesson number one is that a simple thank you will suffice in the future, should I do something that pleases you.”
“Thank you,” she said softly as she stepped back.
“You’re welcome.” He loosened his grip on the chair, fearing it would forever carry the imprint of his fingers.
He stood and she stepped back again, failing to meet his gaze.
“Lydia.”
She lifted her eyes to his.
“We shall need to curb your enthusiasm.”
She nodded. “That was a very unladylike display.”
“Indeed. I, for one, am in favor of no formal lessons. I shall simply instruct you when our paths cross.”
She bobbed her head. “That’s fine.”
“Very good.” He started to stride from the room.
“When do you think our paths will cross?” she asked.
He halted, with his mind racing. As seldom as possible hung on the tip of his tongue. He glanced over his shoulder and knew he could not bear the thought of disappointing her. “I shall endeavor to make it often.”
“Thank you.”
He gave a brisk nod before continuing out of the room. What he needed was a taxing ride over the countryside, although he doubted anything he did would cause him to no longer regret his decision to help her.
Chapter 7
T he shrieking began at precisely four o’clock.
Rhys was absolutely certain of the time, because he’d just returned from his afternoon ride and was striding toward his chambers when he passed the large clock in the hallway, and the ear-splitting crescendo reverberated throughout the manor.
The last time his mother had issued such a shrill cry, she’d spotted a mouse hovering in fear beneath her vanity table. Fortunately William had an uncanny talent when it came to catching rodents—a skill he’d mastered during his time in the London streets—and he’d managed to capture the errant creature and remove it from the premises.
Or so he claimed. Rhys suspected William had made a pet of it.
William was already on his way up the stairs when Rhys reached them.
“I’m bettin’ it’s another mouse, Guv’ner,” Williamtossed over his shoulder, slowing his steps so Rhys could catch up.
“ My lord ,” Rhys corrected him.
“No need to be prayin’ about it, Guv. I can catch the fella right quick.”
Rhys repressed a groan. “I wasn’t praying. I was indicating how you are to address me now that we are in residence here.”
“Ah, right, right. I keep forgettin’.”
Before Quentin had taken his unfortunate spill into the family pond, Rhys had distanced himself from his family to such a degree that only a few people had known of his noble heritage. Certainly none of his ladies had known.
They much preferred thinking he was some coarse commoner trained in the art of seduction by Lady Sachse. Lady Sachse whom Rhys had never kissed, much less bedded.
He’d never understood why she took such an interest in other ladies’ affairs—so to speak—when she was as celibate as a nun.
All thoughts of Lady Sachse flew from his mind when his flight up the stairs came to an abrupt halt at the top. William, obviously quickly deducing a rodent wasn’t the cause of the commotion, was gingerly backing down the stairs in an effort not to be noticed.
Rhys scarcely blamed him for his cowardly retreat.
It was not often in this household that two furious women faced off. He would have given the upper hand to his mother, whose voice was causing the walls to reverberate, but for the fire in Lydia’s eyes as she stood between his mother and her brother—the fire, the passion, the warning.
Good Lord, she was a tigress defending her cub.Waiting, waiting for the battle to shift from verbal to physical, at which point, God help his mother.
“Mother?” he dared to utter into the fray.
She spun around, her palm connecting with his cheek, resulting in an echoing crack that caused an
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