“No, but your family has obviously been imploring you to do this or else you would not be looking at me as though you wish I would disappear into Hades along with the other demons burdening your soul. But this is my home and you are the trespasser here, not I. So it is you who should be on his way. And what is so wrong with the suggestion? It is just a party and need not be anything more. Your brother’s wife and your mother will gladly help you make up an invitation list.”
His groan was more of a low growl. “My mother? And Daisy? I am not a little boy who needs their guidance.”
She looked him up and down. “You are certainly not a little boy. But you are behaving like one. Is it not obvious you desperately need a woman’s hand in this?”
“If you are suggesting my mother and Daisy are to decide upon which sweet young things to invite, then forget it.”
“Fine, you select them. I’m sure you will make a disastrous mess of it.”
“Will I now?” He lifted her up and held her up at his eye level.
He saw the sudden panic in her eyes, for he must have looked like something wild and unmanageable at this moment.
She grabbed onto his shoulders for support and her eyes widened a little more. “Put me down, my lord. This isn’t funny.”
“Neither is your suggestion.” But he set her down because he did not need her shrieking in his ear. His head was still pounding like a hammer being swung atop a nut to crack it. “I will do it…hold a house party, but under two conditions.”
“What are they?”
“That you spend the weekend cooking for me. I have never tasted anything as splendid as this breakfast you just made for me. Not that I should be surprised since parishioners have been attending your father’s Sunday sermons by the hordes because of the pies you bake for refreshments after his service.”
“They come to hear him speak. It is ridiculous to think they attend merely for my pies. You never do. In fact, you tear out of church the moment his sermon is over. Why?”
“Because I prefer to retreat to my bear cave and lick my wounds.”
She cast him a confused look.
“I tried staying afterward once, but all anyone would talk to me about was Jillian and Molly. It was too much for me.” He sighed brokenly. “Cook for me, Viola. I shall pay you handsomely for your trouble.”
“But you have Mrs. Stringer to run your kitchen. She has been in your service for almost a decade.”
“She is not up to the task of preparing meals that require flair and delicacy. I shall give her the weekend off to visit her sister and let the staff know you will be assuming her role while she is gone. It is you…it must be you…or you can forget about the house party.”
She groaned. “Gad, have you always been such an ogre and did we just not see it? All right,ifMrs. Stringer is amenable, then I shall do it. This will also be helpful to me in gaining your recommendation regarding my cooking abilities when the time comes. I’ll need your word that I shall have your letter of recommendation.”
He nodded. “If your meals are half as good as the scones, ham, and eggs you whipped up for me just now, you have my oath on it.”
She let out a breath. “What is your second condition?”
That you share my bed for the weekend.
Oh, blessed saints! No! This was the brandy in him talking.
He quickly suppressed the errant thought.
The last thing he would ever do is hurt someone as kind as Viola. It was not her fault she was also luscious and lively, not to mention far more pleasant company than anyone outside of his own family. Nor was it her fault that he– when drunk and obviously delirious– desired her in this crass way.
Jillian would be so disappointed in him.
In truth, he was disappointed in himself, and quite detested himself for having such thoughts about the girl whose only intention was to help him. But he was a man, and had deprived himself of those needs far too long. There was no explanation for it other than his grief had gotten jumbled up with his anger and frustration. To put it in mathematical terms, grief plus anger and frustration had somehow equaled lust.
But why for Viola?
She was not the sort of girl he would ever touch.
“My lord? What is your second condition?”
Indeed, she was the decent sort he ought to be protecting, especially from him.
