She didn’t offer any further explanation and he kept quiet for all of two or three minutes.
“You don’t sound like the grieving widow. If I were a gambling man, I’d wager you’ve invented Mr. Bloomington to suit your purposes. I’ve heard some ladies do that, you know. In order to make themselves appear more respectable.”
Aubrey rolled her eyes. “Trust me, if I had invented a husband for myself, I would have imagined someone quite the opposite of Harrison Bloomington.”He’d have resembled someone like you, for one thing…
“Did you off him, then? Smother him with his pillow, or poison him perhaps?” Somehow, Mr. Bateman managed to sound like he was laughing at her, even when he was not. Aubrey clenched her teeth together but also her thighs. No man’s voice had ever affected her this way. Perhaps it was his faint French accent.
“Of course, I didn’t.” She responded. “Not that I was never tempted…” She muttered to herself.
Mr. Bateman sent her a startled glance.
“Perhaps it is I who am traveling with a murderess. Am I safe,Princesse?” He teased. The man found humor in practically everything she said.
“I am not a murderess, Mr. Bateman,” she clarified. “Yet.” She slid her glance toward the side of the road.
This time his laughter echoed off the trees around them.
“We’ve a long drive, my dear Mrs. Bloomington. You might as well tell me all about it. You aren’t wearing black, so this cannot have been a recent tragedy.”
“I put off my blacks three days ago.” But she had done her duty.
Mr. Bateman raised his brows. “Ah… So you shed your widow’s weeds, packed up your worldly goods and… don’t tell me. You’ll be moving in with a distant aunt for the remainder of your days. Are you going to act as her companion, then?”
Aubrey stiffened. “I most definitely amnotabout to become anybody’s dependent relation. I am a woman,” she announced with a certain amount of pride. “of independent means.”
“Ah, and a beauty to boot. No doubt you’ll take theTonby storm, then. What with both looks and money on your side.”
But Aubrey waved one hand through the air. Aubrey was under no illusions that she was any such thing. When Aubrey stared at herself in the mirror, she saw an average looking lady, with reddish blond hair and eyes that were perhaps a bit too large. Otherwise she surmised she had an average figure and average looking features. “No need to flatter me, Mr. Bateman. I’ve already agreed to allow you to travel with me.” And yet, the compliment warmed her. Only her mother had ever said that she was beautiful, and one couldn’t help but be skeptical when such a compliment came from one’s mother, after all. “As far as funds, I won’t know the extent of my income until I meet with the solicitor in town. I daren’t hope for little more than enough to sustain me.” Here she was discussing her finances with a total stranger. She ought to be uneasy and yet… she felt perfectly comfortable doing so.
He slanted a stern look in her direction.
“I’m not a man who hands out flattery where it isn’t warranted,Princesse.” But then he shrugged with a smile. “Well, perhaps that’s not completely true, but I haven’t done so on this particular occasion.”
“Then I will pretend to believe you.” She shook her head in disbelief, smiling though. He sounded sincere enough. She’d not been wrong when she’d fantasized that he would be charming.
“I imagine good old Harrison kept you under his thumb easier by allowing you to believe you are plain. Not well done of him. No wonder you aren’t weeping and wearing sackcloth.”
Aubrey wanted to argue with him. He knew nothing of Harrison, and yet Mr. Bateman was not incorrect in that the man she’d married had never offered her anything other than criticism. Given, it was normally directed at her character, but even so… “Thank you?” She knew she wasn’t exactly an antidote, and although the term ‘beauty’ might be stretching the truth, she would take Mr. Bateman at his word.
“You’re welcome.” He chuckled. “So, if you aren’t moving in with a lonely old aunt somewhere, where in London do you intend to take up residence?”
“Mayfair,” Aubrey announced proudly. “It is called Autumn house.”
He whistled low, as though impressed. “An appropriate name for the home that awaits you.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Your hair. It’s the color of the leaves in autumn.”
Oh, but he was indeed laying it on thick. She sputtered a moment but when she went to speak he interrupted her.
“Thank you, I believe is the appropriate response, Mrs. Bloomington.”
Aubrey couldn’t prevent her lips from stretching into a grin at his audacity. She’d never known anyone who spoke in such a forthright manner, except perhaps, an eccentric neighbor she’d left behind in Rockford Beach, Mrs. Tuttle.
“Is that a smile? Good heavens, it is! And I do believe it’s genuine.” He spoke as though he’d spotted a rare bird.
“You’re outrageous, do you know that?” Aubrey couldn’t allow his behavior to go without comment on her part, although her smile stretched wider and she couldn’t stop the small giggle that followed.
