While Tessa Kenthad an undeniably devious streak, Rhys had to admit that she was a woman of her word. Her note the next morning indicated that she’d arranged a meeting with Garrity and Sweeney for two o’clock that afternoon. They were to convene at Nightingale’s, a Covent Garden coffee house that also served as a meeting place for the underworld.
Rhys searched out Maggie to tell her the news. She was in her sitting room with Hypatia and Glory. The two women called absent hellos from the far end of the table, where they appeared to be poring over a sheet of paper. Rhys went first to Glory, who had a paintbrush in hand and pots of watercolors scattered around her.
He hid a smile at the smudge of paint on her freckled nose. Taking out his handkerchief, he handed it to her, gesturing to her pert appendage. She wiped it off and gave him a smile so infectious that his lips tugged upward. Tenderness jolted him as he looked into her eyes and saw a reflection that combined the best of Maggie and himself.
The desire to claim Glory burgeoned day by day. Not for the first time, he wondered how she would receive the news. Would she be glad…or would she mourn Foley, the only father she’d ever known? Regret and frustration sat like a boulder in Rhys’s gut.
The notion of fatherhood had never appealed to him because he’d never wanted to be like his own sire. Yet by not acknowledging Glory, by not doing his best to care for her, wasn’t he being a bastard, just in a different way?
He was beginning to glimpse a new possibility: what if he could be the kind of father he, himself, had secretly longed for? A father who wouldn’t hurt or belittle his child, who’d instead protect and guide her through life’s labyrinth. Rhys might not have the requisite experience, but the instinct to shield Glory—from bullies, from any pain or discomfort—burned within him.
He cleared his throat. “What are you working on there, poppet?”
“Can’t you tell? It’s my pet.”
“I wasn’t aware you had a…” He studied the brownish blob. It looked like a deposit made by a not altogether healthy horse. “Er, dog?”
“It’s not a dog, it’s a ferret. And I don’t have one…yet.” Glory slid a sly look in Maggie’s direction.
“You’re not getting a ferret,” Maggie said without looking up.
“Did you know ferrets are even smarter than dogs?” Glory went on, undeterred. “Mrs. Kent said they understand all sorts of commands. Swift Nick is ever so smart.”
“You don’t want a ferret.” Rhys was no fan of Swift Nick, and the feeling was mutual. “Nasty rodents.”
“They’re not rodents. They belong to the weasel family. Mrs. Kent said so.”
“I’d take anything Mrs. Kent said with a grain of salt.”
“Why?”
“She’s not the sort of lady you should be associating yourself with,” he said.
Indeed, he was wary of Tessa’s friendly overtures to Maggie, including the invitation to the ball. Last night in bed, Rhys had tried to warn Maggie about Tessa’s machinations. Maggie had responded that she couldn’t refuse for fear of offending the other woman, whose goodwill they were dependent upon. She also admitted that she found Tessa rather charming.
Then she’d asked Rhys about his past dealings with the duchess of the underworld.
He’d answered her truthfully. That he’d once been rather intrigued by Tessa’s originality and even more so by her dowry. Their “engagement” hadn’t even lasted a day and had been undertaken solely for practical reasons.
“She’s very pretty, Rhys.” Maggie had kept her gaze fixed on the coverlet, where she traced an embroidered vine with a finger. “Clever and very…dainty.”
Surprised, he’d tipped up Maggie’s chin and saw that she was serious.
“She can’t hold a candle to you.” In his eyes, no woman could.
“I’m hardly a delicate female.”
“Aren’t you?”
He’d run a thumb along the silken stem of her throat, over her petal-soft lips, his fingers winding into her rose-tinted hair. She’d shivered in that way he adored. Her vulnerability and passion never failed to bring out his possessive instincts.
“I think you are. As delicate and sensual as a rose,” he’d murmured. “The most desirable woman I’ve ever known…”
In case words hadn’t convinced her, he’d showed her just how desirable he found her. Several times throughout the night. And first thing this morning. Heat unfurled in his gut…until he realized that their daughter was studying him.
Head tilting, Glory said, “Why shouldn’t I associate with Mrs. Kent?”
“She’s, er, not your usual society lady. I don’t think she’s a good influence.”
