“What do you think he meant by keeping your friends close?” she mused.
“I suspect he thinks Lady Vernon betrayed him. The moment the scandal hit, she jumped ship.”
“She jumped from his ship onto yours.”
When he raised his brows, Evie shook her head.
“I didn’t mean that in a jealous way. I know you have no intention of dropping your anchor in her port, so to speak.”
He had to grin. “Careful, sweetheart. These nautical references might give me ideas.”
“Oh, do keep your mast down,” she quipped.
He wondered if she knew the effect her cheekiness was having on him. Hearing his shy darling refer to his “mast” was making his trousers uncomfortably tight.
“Regardless of my personal feelings about Lady Vernon, I think you should heed Gosford’s warning. She shifts her favor with the wind. What she did to Gosford, she can and will do to you.” Evie gnawed on her lower lip, her eyes troubled. “If she catches even a whiff of the scandal from my past?—”
“She won’t,” he said. “And I have no illusions about her loyalty. I am not as gullible as people seem to think.”
She tilted her head. “Who thinks you are gullible?”
He wasn’t certain he wanted to have this discussion. Since the thoughts had been niggling at him like a toothache, however, he gave in.
“You do,” he told her.
“I never said such a thing.” She looked genuinely shocked.
“Perhaps you did not use that exact word. But when you compared me to Apollo, you said I have lofty ideals, and more than once you’ve called me high-minded.”
“Those were meant as compliments.” Her brow pleated. “If you took them in some other fashion?—”
“I know what you meant.” Feeling like a fool, he sat forward and rubbed his hands over his face. “It has been a long day. Forget I mentioned it.”
“I will not. Something I said bothered you.” She studied him with disturbing acuity. “You’ve never liked that comparison with Apollo. You think it implies that you are prissy—feeble and not as manly as the great Zeus.”
“That is not the part that bothers me,” he averred.
“Then what is it, James? Tell me.”
He exhaled. “I am not perfect.”
“All right,” she said slowly.
“And I don’t want you to think that I am.”
“You needn’t worry on that account.”
He ignored her gentle jibe. “Gosford disagrees. He says you’ve placed me on some sort of pedestal, and I should play up your wifely adulation. He says your view of me will help convince constituents that I am a worthy candidate. But I don’t want you to think of me as some aloof and impeccable god. I’m not. I am just a man who has flaws like everyone else?—”
“I am perfectly aware of your flaws,” she said. “You are stubborn and idealistic to a degree that sometimes puts you out of touch with ordinary folk. You prefer to keep your own counsel, which is usually sound, but you also risk brooding and stewing over things you would have been better off discussing. You have exceedingly high standards, especially when it comes to yourself.”
Her assessment stopped him short. And made him feel like an even bigger idiot.
“Well,” he muttered. “As long as we have that clear.”
“I didn’t mean to insult?—”
“You didn’t.” He gave her a wry look. “I asked for your opinion and now I have it.”
