“I hate it,” she admitted. “I often feel the only time I contribute as a respectable part of my family is when I’m on stage. And I’m always on stage.”
That… was not what he’d imagined it would be like.
“Then why do you do it?”
“Because I love my family,” she said simply. “Why else would I do anything? Aren’t the people you love always worth it?”
Damnit. Max set down his empty bowl with more force than necessary.
It was hard to stay angry with a woman who valued her family as much as he valued his.
“What kind of high-in-the-instep school needs a violinist?” he asked instead.
Bryony’s eyes shone. “A struggling boarding school in St. Giles. A few of the girls attend on paid tuition now, but most of the students are orphans or runaways my sister felt should have a better life. She gives them an education and skills with which to find gainful employment of their choice.”
Max tried not to show how surprised and impressed he was. “The violin helps with that?”
“Not at all,” she answered with pride. “The violin is for pleasure. Music to dance by. Everyone deserves a few moments when they can truly be free.”
Max glowered at her.
It sounded perfect. She sounded perfect. Yet he could tell just by looking at her to which class she belonged. He’d spent his life vowing to outwit the aristocracy, not fall for one. He would not make that mistake.
“Is your mother truly searching for a husband for you?” he asked.
“As if it were her job,” Bryony answered with feeling. “Not that Mother would ever perform something so common as ajob. Finding me a husband is more like… her calling.”
Max’s stomach once again gave an uncomfortable twist.
He wasn’t jealous. How could he be? He didn’t want Bryony for himself. Couldn’t have her, even if he did. Even if she weren’t from her class, even if he wasn’t from his, even if they’d both been born in the same rookery, romance still wouldn’t be an option.
She held the deed to his propertyandthe upper hand.
He had to find a way to convince her to sell. And not using one of his sister’s harebrained ideas.
If it were even possible to marry Bryony, that would be cheating in the worst way. One must earn one’s success. He intended to be a self-made man before he wed, not because of it. Afterward, he would choose a wife for love, not papers, or he wouldn’t take one at all.
And Bryony would choose a husband for… Who knew what criteria a woman of her class would have? Money, he supposed. A title, no doubt. Looks, status, social connections. They couldn’t be more different. She was beauty and he was the beast.
He preferred being the beast.
It helped remind him that the only reason Bryony could be interested in him outside of the Cloven Hoof was because to her he was exotic and different. A way to be rebellious. A momentary diversion for now, and immaterial in the future.
In a few months, when she became Lady Whatever, the growing business he’d spent blood, sweat, and his life savings building from nothing would merely be an amusing anecdote she might share with her friends as they sipped champagne at some Society ball.
He didn’t care about her world. He had a world of his own, a world that didn’t include her. His club, his friends, his sister… Bryony didn’t fit any part of it. It was good for both of them to remember that.
“You’re scowling again,” she told him. “I presume I’ve managed to vex you in some new and unpredictable way.”
His eyes narrowed. “I was just thinking how grateful I am that I’ll never be forced to marry a spoiled rich girl.”
“Good one,” she said approvingly. “An arrow right to my spoiled rich parts.” She lowered her voice. “That’s all of me, in case you were wondering.”
He burst out laughing without meaning to.
She was impossible to offend. She didn’t take herself seriously enough. Her friends sounded tolerable, her mother sounded awful, and he himself wasn’t exactly known as someone who was easy to get along with.
Except she made it easy. She saw him for who and what he was and didn’t appear to mind. If anything, she seemed to prefer him exactly how he was. She didn’t judge him. She didn’t care enough about what anyone else thought to bother. He could be open and honest with her in a manner that he could never replicate with the patrons of his club.
