Padua squirmed to avoid being dragged into a kiss, and heaven knew what else. “Uhh, Eva is here. Look.”
Ives’s expression fell. He looked down the bed and through the chamber, to where Eva continued to debate the dresses. He grabbed a knot of sheet to cover himself better.
“Eva.” He laughed a little, very awkwardly.
“Good morning, Ives.”
“You are up early.”
“You are not.”
“No. Quite.” He looked at his situation. His gaze slid to where his clothes were heaped on the floor. He looked at Padua helplessly.
“Perhaps you would return to the dressing room for a few minutes, Eva,” Padua said. “Then Ives can get out of the bed and dress and leave.”
Eva faced them. Her gaze skewered Ives. “I am waiting for him to request my discretion, Padua. You do want that, don’t you, Ives?”
“Of course.” He cocked his head. “Are you angry with me, Eva?”
“I think I am. Padua is not an opera singer.”
“I know that.”
“Then do not be so careless with her reputation in the future, please.” Eva marched into the dressing room and closed the door.
Ives threw off the bedclothes. He went to his garments and pulled them on. “She is right. I was careless.”
“I just woke ten minutes ago,” Padua said. “Day has barely broken.”
“I should have left last night, or at least woken you with kisses if I indulged myself by sleeping with you in my arms.” He came back to her and embraced her. “We will tour the estate this afternoon, if you like. By then I expect you will have decided if you are angry with me too.”
He gave her a kiss, and walked out the door.
***
Lance had finished his meal when Ives entered the breakfast room. He sat at the table drinking coffee while he flipped through the mail.
“You are up early,” Lance said without looking up.
“As are you. Is this a new habit?”
“It is the result of unending ennui. I sleep early to escape it, only to have more hours in the morning to suffer it.” He paused over a letter, and raised an eyebrow. “Miss Belvoir has mail. Sent here by Langley House. Two letters.” He set the one in his hand upon another over to the side. “One from a friend, and one from a lawyer, I would say.”
Ives cast his gaze on those letters. While he did, Lance paused again, frowned, and reached for the opener that the butler had placed on the table.
Ives ate the hearty plate he had put together. He had woken hungry on several counts. That of the stomach he could at least sate. As to the other—he imagined taking Padua away to a cottage where relatives did not feel free to intrude on a bedchamber at ungodly hours of the morning.
He expected the entire household would know by noon. Eva might be discreet as she promised, but it would not matter. The maid would see that bed and know what had occurred. His manservant would report Lord Ywain had not slept in his own bed. Gareth would guess just from looking at the two of them, assuming Eva’s discretion included her husband, which it probably did not.
The only person who might remain ignorant was Lance, and only because his self-absorption these days blunted his normally sharp insights into people.
He could not take Padua away to a cottage, but he could remove her from this house for a few hours. Hehad amends to make, for the embarrassment of Eva finding him in that bed. He also had things to say. Just what things he did not know for certain. Normally he said whatever needed saying before he took a woman to bed, not after. Usually all he did was create a contract for pleasure.
But this affair with Padua was not normal. Hence the dilemma.
Lance’s nose still resided in the letter he had opened.
“What is that there, which requires you read it three times?” Ives said.
