And gentle. He could be gentle. Hewasgentle.
Love paintings, yes. Love animals? He had never really thought about animals, never had a favorite horse, never made a pet of a dog. But he didn’t dislike animals. He wouldn’t mind a house filled with dogs if it meant Caro was in the house, too. And children? Yes, of course. Wouldn’t it be fun to have babies to dandle, a sweet girl who wanted to show her Papa her dollies, a mischievous boy who howled with laughter at his Papa’s jokes? As long as the children didn’t distract Caro too much from her husband.
Diligent and thrifty. No and no. Very much no. But he wouldn’t think about that right now.
He will never pay attention to another girl.The wording here was key. She had not writtenhe will never have paid, buthe will never pay.Caro must mean going forward. There was no difficulty with that condition. Hadn’t that been his life for four months now? He couldn’t conceive of paying attention to another woman. Andhe will be mine? He was hers, all hers, if she would only have him.
He won’t mind how I talk. In truth, he wasn’t sure he really knew how she talked, she had spoken so little in front of him. But the few words he had heard from her . . . that lovely pink tongue thrusting forward . . . mmmmm. He got aroused just thinking about it.
How stupid he had been to think she was just naturally reticent. He had blathered on in front of her as he was wont to do, loving his own talk, thinking she must, too.
He must get more words from her.
And he mustn’t speak for her as he had done in the library today. He must listen, for once. He knew so little about her, still.
The kind of courting Caro wanted? The easiest thing on the list. He had accounts with several of the best florists. He was capable of writing in a fair hand; he had written dozens of letters for Jack MacNaughton last summer. And he could dig up some poetry from somewhere.
And he will love me!Love. Well. Love. Last on the list, surely the least important. He knew he craved her and wanted to please her and that must suffice for now. Love was for other—
His mind suddenly jerked, as if it were leashed and that leash was held by a strong grip covered in a lady’s kid glove.
Was love really for other men?
He certainly met the description of a man in love. Unhappy, uncomfortable, uninterested in any quim that wasn’t Caro’s.
He had become one of those other men he had so pitied in the past.
Phineas Edge, at last, had fallen in love.
He presented himself at the Sudbury town house at one o’clock precisely. He was shown into an empty drawing room.
He had prepared and made a plan. He wouldn’t kiss or caress her, he had decided. Her list held no wishes for a husband who was a skilled lover.
He had had no time to read any books or learn any poetry, but today he would talk to her about paintings and her dog. He would show her how gentle he could be. He would draw her out and be patient with her words.
He would be a friend to her.
The door opened and she came in. She closed the door behind her. She kept her head down.
“Now, darling, you have to be fair. Look at Phin.”
She lifted her head and looked at him. He swallowed. Those green eyes. That mass of dark hair. That square jaw.
Suddenly, his plan evaporated. He had to get his hands on her. He didn’t care about the wishes of a seventeen-year-old-girl anymore. He had a woman in front of him, a woman who would give way as soon as he touched her.
He took a step toward her.
“Your brother said you would talk to me. You will talk to me, won’t you?”
She nodded.
“Now, Caro, I want to know why you don’t want to marry me.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“I know there’s probably a long list of reasons why you wouldn’t choose me, but just start with one. It doesn’t have to be the most important one. Just one.”
“Your other w-w-women.”
