you object to?”
“She’s a little girl! Her mother would have wanted you to protect her from such influences, not parade them and their unfortunate morals before the child.”
“You think so?”
“I know so,” Jacaranda shot back. “Those women cannot help their circumstances, I know that, too, but if you intend to prey on them, can’t you at least do it where Avery has no knowledge of it? Gentlemen are expected to exercise discretion even when they can’t exercise control.”
“You have a very bad opinion of men, don’t you?” His tone was curious, and he was standing entirely too close. “For example, if I kissed you right now, you’d wallop me at the least and probably ban me from my own house. I adore a ferocious woman.”
“You seek to turn the subject, and crudely. Avery should not be exposed to your debaucheries.” If I kissed you? Despite Jacaranda’s considerable anger at the man before her, her gaze dropped to his mouth. Damn him to Hades, it was a beautiful mouth, even when it wasn’t turned up in that faint smile.
“Come sit with me, and I will explain to you what transpires in my London household. As a courtesy, mind you, because you’re concerned for the child, not because you’re entitled to explanations. One must always be mindful of setting unfortunate precedents.”
When she didn’t move, he took her hand and led her to a window bench. The cushion could accommodate them both—barely.
“Avery likes the opera dancers, you see.” He kept her hand in his and drew his fingers over her palm. He had an ink stain on his right cuff—ink was the very devil to get out—and his touch was mesmerizing, soothing and arousing at once.
Arousing?
“Avery likes the dancers, or you do?”
“We both do. Moira went to Paris to study art during the Peace of Amiens, and then remained, against my judgment and Hess’s. Nobody wanted her there, but I suspect she was enamored of Avery’s father and unwilling to come home. Then she was unable to come home, and I didn’t become aware of Avery’s existence until the False Peace.”
“I know the French are not as judgmental regarding their diversions, but the child is in England.”
“She is.” He laced his fingers with hers, and Jacaranda bore it, because her employer was a man who liked to touch. He touched his niece and his sister, he patted Wickie on the shoulder, and he put his arm around his housekeeper in the moonlight.
He also entertained opera dancers in his very home. She tried to withdraw her hand.
“You will hear me out, Wyeth, because I will not repeat this tale. Moira’s artistic aspirations came to naught, and when Avery’s father died, Moira eventually supported herself at the opera comique , if what Avery tells me is accurate. The dancers remind Avery of happy times with her mother. I gather the child became some sort of backstage mascot. I have an opera dancer to thank for the fact Avery arrived safely to these shores.”
“You justify your choice of paramour on this basis? Your lapse of discretion?”
“Do you imagine opera dancers don’t age, Mrs. Wyeth? Do you imagine they don’t fall sick or suffer injury? You can turn your ankle and put it up with ice and arnica for a fortnight if you need to, but if they twist their ankles, they don’t eat.”
“For God’s sake, you don’t expect me to believe you paw these women out of charitable impulses?”
“I do not paw women, not any women, ever. If you must know, I handle investments for my opera dancers, you fire-breathing little besom.”
And then he kissed her.
He settled his lips on hers, gently, so gently, while his hand came up to caress her jaw, then her hair, then to rest softly on her throat, so his thumb could brush over her cheek. His touch was sunbeam-light, warm as a breeze, and left wicked, wicked pleasure drizzling over her skin and into her mind. His mouth treasured hers, parting so his tongue could tease and taste and coax at her lips. When
“She’s a little girl! Her mother would have wanted you to protect her from such influences, not parade them and their unfortunate morals before the child.”
“You think so?”
“I know so,” Jacaranda shot back. “Those women cannot help their circumstances, I know that, too, but if you intend to prey on them, can’t you at least do it where Avery has no knowledge of it? Gentlemen are expected to exercise discretion even when they can’t exercise control.”
“You have a very bad opinion of men, don’t you?” His tone was curious, and he was standing entirely too close. “For example, if I kissed you right now, you’d wallop me at the least and probably ban me from my own house. I adore a ferocious woman.”
“You seek to turn the subject, and crudely. Avery should not be exposed to your debaucheries.” If I kissed you? Despite Jacaranda’s considerable anger at the man before her, her gaze dropped to his mouth. Damn him to Hades, it was a beautiful mouth, even when it wasn’t turned up in that faint smile.
“Come sit with me, and I will explain to you what transpires in my London household. As a courtesy, mind you, because you’re concerned for the child, not because you’re entitled to explanations. One must always be mindful of setting unfortunate precedents.”
When she didn’t move, he took her hand and led her to a window bench. The cushion could accommodate them both—barely.
“Avery likes the opera dancers, you see.” He kept her hand in his and drew his fingers over her palm. He had an ink stain on his right cuff—ink was the very devil to get out—and his touch was mesmerizing, soothing and arousing at once.
Arousing?
“Avery likes the dancers, or you do?”
“We both do. Moira went to Paris to study art during the Peace of Amiens, and then remained, against my judgment and Hess’s. Nobody wanted her there, but I suspect she was enamored of Avery’s father and unwilling to come home. Then she was unable to come home, and I didn’t become aware of Avery’s existence until the False Peace.”
“I know the French are not as judgmental regarding their diversions, but the child is in England.”
“She is.” He laced his fingers with hers, and Jacaranda bore it, because her employer was a man who liked to touch. He touched his niece and his sister, he patted Wickie on the shoulder, and he put his arm around his housekeeper in the moonlight.
He also entertained opera dancers in his very home. She tried to withdraw her hand.
“You will hear me out, Wyeth, because I will not repeat this tale. Moira’s artistic aspirations came to naught, and when Avery’s father died, Moira eventually supported herself at the opera comique , if what Avery tells me is accurate. The dancers remind Avery of happy times with her mother. I gather the child became some sort of backstage mascot. I have an opera dancer to thank for the fact Avery arrived safely to these shores.”
“You justify your choice of paramour on this basis? Your lapse of discretion?”
“Do you imagine opera dancers don’t age, Mrs. Wyeth? Do you imagine they don’t fall sick or suffer injury? You can turn your ankle and put it up with ice and arnica for a fortnight if you need to, but if they twist their ankles, they don’t eat.”
“For God’s sake, you don’t expect me to believe you paw these women out of charitable impulses?”
“I do not paw women, not any women, ever. If you must know, I handle investments for my opera dancers, you fire-breathing little besom.”
And then he kissed her.
He settled his lips on hers, gently, so gently, while his hand came up to caress her jaw, then her hair, then to rest softly on her throat, so his thumb could brush over her cheek. His touch was sunbeam-light, warm as a breeze, and left wicked, wicked pleasure drizzling over her skin and into her mind. His mouth treasured hers, parting so his tongue could tease and taste and coax at her lips. When
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