idea occurred to him that she was probably one of
those women who were fanatics about tidiness; no doubt if he was to march up
those stairs and stroll to her room he would discover that every filmy object
in her wardrobe drawers would be fastidiously neat and arranged by color. Then
again, judging by the way she dressed, she probably owned no filmy
undergarments.
"Your
cloak," she repeated as she stopped before him, her eyes holding his. He
knew in an instant that she was fully aware of what had just taken place
between him and her sister. Olivia Devonshire might have been a great number of
things, but she wasn't a fool.
He
took the cloak.
Olivia
stepped back and clasped her hands before her. "I fear I was remiss in
showing my appreciation.
You
saved Bryan's life. My only excuse for my sorry behavior was that I allowed my
fear of losing him to overcome my sense of decency."
"An
apology isn't necessary, Miss Devonshire. Neither is your gratitude. I have a
feeling you would have handled the situation equally as well without me. The
only difference is, I'm the one who fell in the hole instead of you."
A
look of amusement lit her eyes and toyed with her lips. Damn, she had fine
lips. Pleasant to look at, full and pink and soft. He wondered how many men had
kissed them as fervently as he had last night.
"Your
clothes," those lips said, then smiled. "I totally forgot about them.
If you'd care to send them back, I'll see that they're properly mended and
]aundered and your boots cleaned."
Miles
looked down his legs, to his boots, to the muddy footprints he'd left on the
floor, and shook his head. "No, thank you."
Without
another word, he turned on his heels and quit the house, stood shivering on the
porch steps (the idea of putting on his cloak never occurring to him) while his
driver brought up the coach. Once inside, he sank into the leather seat, nudged
back the maroon velvet shade with one finger, and found Olivia still standing
in the doorway, gazing off down the drive.
She
had removed her eyeglasses.
"I am now forty-one
years old," he went on. "I may
have been called a
confirmed bachelor, and I was
a confirmed bachelor. I
had never any views of myself as
a husband in my earlier
days, nor have I made any
calculation on the
subject since I have been older.
But we all change, and
my change, in this matter, came
with seeing you. I have
felt lately, more and more,
that my present way of
living is bad in every respect.
Beyond all things, 1
want you as my wife."
—Thomas Hardy,
Fur from the Madding
Crowd
CHAPTER SIX
Miles
had remained a bachelor these thirty-nine years because he'd imagined himself
waiting for a paragon. She, of course, would be. breathtakingly beautiful, as
well as highly intelligent.
How
did Olivia Devonshire fare on these counts? First, he realized Miss Devonshire
was far from unattractive. In fact with the proper clothes and arrangement of
her hair he suspected she could rival her sister.
Intelligence?
That
was probably an unfair requirement. Most women weren't particularly well
educated in anything except deceit and flirtation—Olivia Devonshire being the
exception, of course. According to her father she could probably teach his
professors at Cambridge a thing or two about economics . .. And he could
certainly use some help in that area.
Miles
lay back in his tub of tepid water and smoked his Cuban cigar. He frowned.
Certainly
his wife would have to possess a wonderful sense of humor. Olivia Devonshire
didn't have one iota of humor in her entire stiff-as-a-poker little body. No
doubt the woman's face would crack if she attempted to laugh ...
Then
again, he supposed that she really didn't have a great deal to laugh about.
Someone needed to teach her not to take life so seriously ... which could prove
to be an interesting and pleasant task ...
Any
woman he would even consider marrying would come from a well-respected family.
Her impeccable reputation and position
those women who were fanatics about tidiness; no doubt if he was to march up
those stairs and stroll to her room he would discover that every filmy object
in her wardrobe drawers would be fastidiously neat and arranged by color. Then
again, judging by the way she dressed, she probably owned no filmy
undergarments.
"Your
cloak," she repeated as she stopped before him, her eyes holding his. He
knew in an instant that she was fully aware of what had just taken place
between him and her sister. Olivia Devonshire might have been a great number of
things, but she wasn't a fool.
He
took the cloak.
Olivia
stepped back and clasped her hands before her. "I fear I was remiss in
showing my appreciation.
You
saved Bryan's life. My only excuse for my sorry behavior was that I allowed my
fear of losing him to overcome my sense of decency."
"An
apology isn't necessary, Miss Devonshire. Neither is your gratitude. I have a
feeling you would have handled the situation equally as well without me. The
only difference is, I'm the one who fell in the hole instead of you."
A
look of amusement lit her eyes and toyed with her lips. Damn, she had fine
lips. Pleasant to look at, full and pink and soft. He wondered how many men had
kissed them as fervently as he had last night.
"Your
clothes," those lips said, then smiled. "I totally forgot about them.
If you'd care to send them back, I'll see that they're properly mended and
]aundered and your boots cleaned."
Miles
looked down his legs, to his boots, to the muddy footprints he'd left on the
floor, and shook his head. "No, thank you."
Without
another word, he turned on his heels and quit the house, stood shivering on the
porch steps (the idea of putting on his cloak never occurring to him) while his
driver brought up the coach. Once inside, he sank into the leather seat, nudged
back the maroon velvet shade with one finger, and found Olivia still standing
in the doorway, gazing off down the drive.
She
had removed her eyeglasses.
"I am now forty-one
years old," he went on. "I may
have been called a
confirmed bachelor, and I was
a confirmed bachelor. I
had never any views of myself as
a husband in my earlier
days, nor have I made any
calculation on the
subject since I have been older.
But we all change, and
my change, in this matter, came
with seeing you. I have
felt lately, more and more,
that my present way of
living is bad in every respect.
Beyond all things, 1
want you as my wife."
—Thomas Hardy,
Fur from the Madding
Crowd
CHAPTER SIX
Miles
had remained a bachelor these thirty-nine years because he'd imagined himself
waiting for a paragon. She, of course, would be. breathtakingly beautiful, as
well as highly intelligent.
How
did Olivia Devonshire fare on these counts? First, he realized Miss Devonshire
was far from unattractive. In fact with the proper clothes and arrangement of
her hair he suspected she could rival her sister.
Intelligence?
That
was probably an unfair requirement. Most women weren't particularly well
educated in anything except deceit and flirtation—Olivia Devonshire being the
exception, of course. According to her father she could probably teach his
professors at Cambridge a thing or two about economics . .. And he could
certainly use some help in that area.
Miles
lay back in his tub of tepid water and smoked his Cuban cigar. He frowned.
Certainly
his wife would have to possess a wonderful sense of humor. Olivia Devonshire
didn't have one iota of humor in her entire stiff-as-a-poker little body. No
doubt the woman's face would crack if she attempted to laugh ...
Then
again, he supposed that she really didn't have a great deal to laugh about.
Someone needed to teach her not to take life so seriously ... which could prove
to be an interesting and pleasant task ...
Any
woman he would even consider marrying would come from a well-respected family.
Her impeccable reputation and position
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