“AH!”
Though it was muffled, Rhys knew a yell and looked up immediately. There, in the middle of the room was a tub with soapy water, with Louisa sunk up to her chin.
Her pink cheeks, wide gray eyes, and damp auburn hair caused his throat to become dry and though he knew he should look away, he could barely make himself move.
“I, uh, I beg your pardon.”
“Don’t you know to knock?” she asked indignantly, her mouth barely above the waterline.
The corner of his mouth pulled up.
“Even if I did, I wouldn’t hear your command on the other side of the door anyway,” he said factually, while trying extremely hard not to look anywhere else but her mouth. But even that was a touch too tantalizing. He draped her gown over the closest chair and went to leave.
“I’ll wait for you outside.”
After another thirty minutes of waiting, Louisa finally appeared in the hallway, as simply dressed as she was the night before. Her hair was still damp but pulled back so fiercely that it looked nearly painted on.
“Shall we?” she said, coming towards him.
He only nodded and held out his arm, which she took instantly. It was a bizarre sensation, escorting her down the hall of the infamous Lyon’s Club, out the door, and down the steps into the early morning London air. The city was already awake, buzzing and moving as it always had.
Rhys escorted her to a new carriage, painted with black lacquer and gold-leaf wheels, pulled by four black horses.
Louisa hesitated.
“Are we borrowing one of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s carriages?”
“No. This is my own.”
“Your own?”
“Yes.”
“But I thought you didn’t have any money.”
“I never said that.”
He helped her into the carriage and soon they were whizzing down the streets of London, toward the Grosvenor Square chapel.
“Didn’t you? You said last night that I would have to work the fields with you—”
“Louisa, as strong as I’m sure you are, I never said you were to work in the fields. I’ll be doing a good amount of planting and farming over the year, but you will oversee the manor, which, I assure you, is no small feat.”
“But in what way?”
“It’s in need of renovations. Extensive ones. I’ve hired an architect and I’m sure you’ll be able to take it from there.”
“Take it from there?” she repeated. “Sir, I’ve never overseen a household, let alone one that’s in need of renovations. How can I discuss such things with an architect?”
“You’ll manage, I’m sure. Besides, it’s only a house. Walls, furnishings, that sort of thing. You may make it to your own specifications, I’m sure.”
“My own? But what about yours?”
“I’ve no interest in what the house looks like, only that it’s practical in function. Paint the entire thing in orange and purple stripes, for all I care. As long as it’s warm and well suited for us.”
“I wouldn’t put orange next to purple,” she said off-handedly, as if the idea was criminal in and of itself. Then, her expression turned thoughtful. “Why are you so easy to please?”
He shrugged.
