spirits know all.”
“Hmph!”
“You are not pleased by the prospect of wedding the lady?”
“I’m not pleased by the prospect of wedding anyone.” He leaned back in the chair, crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at her as if he were trying to penetrate her disguise.
“Most noblemen live for their own pleasure. If the match displeases you, why do you commit to it?
“Because someday I’ll be the Earl of Devonwood. I know my duty.”
Lady Florence was considered no end of a catch for her political connections alone. The daughter of a duke would bring not only a staggering dowry, but hefty portions of prestige to the House of Devonwood.
“And do you always do your duty?” Delphinia asked.
He nodded curtly. “I’d be less a man if I didn’t.”
“But will you know happiness in the doing of it?”
“That’s neither here nor there.”
She made a show of gazing into the crystal bowl as if it had something to reveal to her. “Then you do not wish to know if you will be happy with your choice?”
“My happiness doesn’t signify in the slightest. Only a child or a fool expects to be happy.”
“I expect to be,” she said, straightening her spine. “And I am not a child or a fool.”
“You’re a woman. It’s natural for you to find happiness in marriage. A man’s satisfaction is often not found in his own home.” He arched a brow at her. “I can always keep a mistress as my father did before me.”
Delphinia’s brows drew together.
“Don’t tell me the spirits disapprove of me taking my ease with a light-o-love, Madame Zola.”
If he were speaking to Miss Delphinia Preston, his comments would be considered beyond the pale. However, Madame Zola was expected to be an overindulgent confessor who offered absolution for the cost of a shilling with no penance required. She decided to answer his frankness with her own.
“No, the spirits care nothing for this and Society doesn’t either so long as you are discreet,” she said, speaking only what was true. Delphinia couldn’t name a single couple of her acquaintance who lasted beyond their first year of marriage without one or both of them taking lovers. “But I think your heart will not find what you seek with a mistress.”
“My heart isn’t looking for anything. Particularly not with a mistress. That will involve another part of my anatomy entirely.” He cast her a wicked grin.
“All hearts seek whether they know it or not.”
“And what does yours seek, Madame?”
Someone to still the press of voices trying to break into my mind. Someone who fills up the empty place in my chest. Someone whose soul is the calm sea upon which I may launch my small craft without fear of squalls.
But Tristan Nash didn’t deserve that kind of naked honesty from her. In fact, now that she’d spent a little time alone with him, she didn’t like him nearly as well as she’d thought she would. Any man who could so coldly contemplate both marriage and a mistress in the same conversation was not her sort of fellow.
So she simply extended her hand, palm up.
“My heart seeks someone who’ll cross my palm with silver for the sake of the orphans.”
“Fair enough,” he said as he pulled a sovereign out of his waistcoat pocket. “For the orphans.”
Delphinia secreted the coin between her breasts, behind the stiff busk of her corset. When she looked up, she realized her actions had drawn his attention there. He smiled at her ample décolletage.
“Now I know who you are,” he said. “You’re the Preston girl. Delcie, is it?”
“Delphinia,” she corrected, her nipples tingling beneath the layer of whalebone under his intense scrutiny. Her mother had always assured her that her bosom was one of her best assets. Now the swells that confirmed her femininity had unmasked her.
“You’re related to the Earl of Meade, I think.”
“Have you a copy of DeBrett’s in your pocket, my lord?” It irritated Delphinia that she was
“Hmph!”
“You are not pleased by the prospect of wedding the lady?”
“I’m not pleased by the prospect of wedding anyone.” He leaned back in the chair, crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at her as if he were trying to penetrate her disguise.
“Most noblemen live for their own pleasure. If the match displeases you, why do you commit to it?
“Because someday I’ll be the Earl of Devonwood. I know my duty.”
Lady Florence was considered no end of a catch for her political connections alone. The daughter of a duke would bring not only a staggering dowry, but hefty portions of prestige to the House of Devonwood.
“And do you always do your duty?” Delphinia asked.
He nodded curtly. “I’d be less a man if I didn’t.”
“But will you know happiness in the doing of it?”
“That’s neither here nor there.”
She made a show of gazing into the crystal bowl as if it had something to reveal to her. “Then you do not wish to know if you will be happy with your choice?”
“My happiness doesn’t signify in the slightest. Only a child or a fool expects to be happy.”
“I expect to be,” she said, straightening her spine. “And I am not a child or a fool.”
“You’re a woman. It’s natural for you to find happiness in marriage. A man’s satisfaction is often not found in his own home.” He arched a brow at her. “I can always keep a mistress as my father did before me.”
Delphinia’s brows drew together.
“Don’t tell me the spirits disapprove of me taking my ease with a light-o-love, Madame Zola.”
If he were speaking to Miss Delphinia Preston, his comments would be considered beyond the pale. However, Madame Zola was expected to be an overindulgent confessor who offered absolution for the cost of a shilling with no penance required. She decided to answer his frankness with her own.
“No, the spirits care nothing for this and Society doesn’t either so long as you are discreet,” she said, speaking only what was true. Delphinia couldn’t name a single couple of her acquaintance who lasted beyond their first year of marriage without one or both of them taking lovers. “But I think your heart will not find what you seek with a mistress.”
“My heart isn’t looking for anything. Particularly not with a mistress. That will involve another part of my anatomy entirely.” He cast her a wicked grin.
“All hearts seek whether they know it or not.”
“And what does yours seek, Madame?”
Someone to still the press of voices trying to break into my mind. Someone who fills up the empty place in my chest. Someone whose soul is the calm sea upon which I may launch my small craft without fear of squalls.
But Tristan Nash didn’t deserve that kind of naked honesty from her. In fact, now that she’d spent a little time alone with him, she didn’t like him nearly as well as she’d thought she would. Any man who could so coldly contemplate both marriage and a mistress in the same conversation was not her sort of fellow.
So she simply extended her hand, palm up.
“My heart seeks someone who’ll cross my palm with silver for the sake of the orphans.”
“Fair enough,” he said as he pulled a sovereign out of his waistcoat pocket. “For the orphans.”
Delphinia secreted the coin between her breasts, behind the stiff busk of her corset. When she looked up, she realized her actions had drawn his attention there. He smiled at her ample décolletage.
“Now I know who you are,” he said. “You’re the Preston girl. Delcie, is it?”
“Delphinia,” she corrected, her nipples tingling beneath the layer of whalebone under his intense scrutiny. Her mother had always assured her that her bosom was one of her best assets. Now the swells that confirmed her femininity had unmasked her.
“You’re related to the Earl of Meade, I think.”
“Have you a copy of DeBrett’s in your pocket, my lord?” It irritated Delphinia that she was
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