“You’re not going to work in it when you’re married, are you?” Mr. Whitley asked.
“Well, no.”
“Then it would be a waste of time, would it not?”
It would allow him to get a better sense of her. As it was, she was beginning to feel he was a waste of time. “Well, this has been enlightening, gentlemen, but I must return to my endeavors.”
Besides it was rude for a gentleman to linger more than fifteen minutes, and surely that much time had passed. She wasn’t going to double it just because there were two of them. She rose to her feet, and they both stood. “It’s been a pleasure, my lord, Mr. Whitley.”
Beresford stepped forward, took her hand, and placed a kiss on her knuckles. “I do hope you’ll honor me with a dance at the next ball you attend.”
“It will be my pleasure. I look forward to it.”
Mr. Whitley looked as though he had a strong urge to shove the lord aside. As soon as Beresford was out of the way, Whitley also took her hand. “Until our paths cross again.”
He planted a kiss on the back of her hand. Because she was not wearing gloves, she could feel the spittle leaking between his lips. As soon as he released her, she placed her hand behind her back and discreetly wiped it on her skirt, hoping she never had occasion to feel his lips pressed to hers. Still she returned his smile.
“My lord, sir, I wish you both a good day,” Aslyn said, having approached. She led them into the hallway and called for a footman to show them out.
Once she returned, she lifted her eyebrows at Fancy. “Well?”
Fancy dropped into the chair. “Beresford seems rather fine, but Whitley. How can a man have no love for books? We would never suit.”
Aslyn sat on the settee. “I have no advice when it comes to courtship as my betrothal to Kipwick and my eventual marriage to your brother were quite unconventional when it came to the wooing. All I can offer is to follow your heart.”
Unfortunately, her heart was leading her toward a man who would not be all her mother wanted.
“Unca Matthew!”
“Poppet!” Bending down, Matthew swept his four-year-old niece up with one arm, laughing as she planted a rather wet and sloppy kiss on his cheek.
Leaning back, she squinted and pointed at the package he held in his other hand. “What’s that?”
“A gift for you.” Setting her back on the floor, he crouched and handed it to her, taking delight in her excitement as she tore away the brown paper—quite quickly and efficiently with those little fingers of hers—to reveal the book Fancy had suggested. He hadn’t intended to ask her to go boating with him, but the realization that gents were calling on her had sent a primal and possessive need to claim her through him, and the invitation had come out before he’d been able to analyze the wisdom of it or give it much thought.
“A book!” Tillie exclaimed. “I love it!” Immediately she sat on the floor and began turning pages.
“Tillie! A lady does not sit upon the floor.”
Glancing up at his sister, he smiled. Two years his senior, she’d been married nearly six years now and had yet to produce the heir. “Surely she is forgiven when it is her excitement over a book that prompted her actions.”
“You spoil her.”
“As though you don’t.”
Straightening, he went to her and bussed a quick kiss over her cheek. “You have more color in you today. I’ve been a bit worried. You were quite pale the last few times I visited.” He remembered a time when he hadn’t noticed things like complexion.
“Would you say I’m glowing?”
“I would rather.”
Lifting her shoulders, she gave him a secretive smile. “I’m with child.”
He took her hand, squeezed. “Ah, Sylvie, that’s wonderful.”
“Four months. I almost told you last time but wanted to wait until I wasn’t taking a second look at my breakfast each morning. However, that seems to have passed now, so we’re hopeful all will be well. Fairhaven is beside himself. I am praying for the heir. He says he doesn’t care, but he’s a marquess. Of course he wants a son to pass everything off to. Just as you do.” She touched his cheek. “You look healthier of late. I’m pleased to see that.”
“I am more of myself, these days.” In part, thanks to Fancy Trewlove.
