She’d failed.
Once they were so vivid. Now, she couldn’t bring them to mind.
Perhaps it wasn’t so odd she couldn’t summon them to comfort her anymore. It was so long ago. She was still practically a child when she married him. She’d been so eager to be his wife. At one time, recollections of her husband had overwhelmed her to the point she thought she’d never recover from the loss. The sad truth that she hated to admit even to herself was that feelings and memories of Stewart had started to fade beforeZane came into her life and disrupted it with his wager, his kisses, and his very presence.
Now it was Blacknight who took up too much space in her thoughts. If she wasn’t thinking about him, she would see, hear, or touch something that would bring him to mind.
Especially when she was alone.
She hardly had room for other and more important things to ponder such as getting on with the preparations to give the girls painting lessons. The spring weather had been lovely so it was the perfect time to set up the easels outside. She believed it would be helpful to the girls in their sewing classes if they knew how to sketch a dress and then paint it in lovely colors.
Yet, time after time, she put those thoughts aside because she greatly enjoyed thinking about Zane and remembering his touch and kisses. How divinely delicious it was to feel desired again. For some reason, she’d always thought it would be a betrayal to Stewart to have wanton feelings of any kind for another man, but now that she actually had them for Zane, she didn’t sense any disloyalty to Stewart’s memory.
She only felt hard, fast, flowingpassion.
And that was troublesome. She hadn’t expected to be so enamored with Zane. He was supposed to be a rake. Why hadn’t she heard that he was drinking and gambling—or, at the very least, swearing? That is what she needed the earl to do. And soon. Not give her kisses that made her feel as if she were melting into a pool of sensuous fantasy. Not proving he could change. That he could be a gentleman and refuse her invitation for more than kisses thrice.
Thrice!
She had no doubt he wanted her. The evidence had been clear, strong, and tempting. She desperately wantedhim—to be with him, but she hadn’t changed her mind about marriage. It was too hard. Too heartbreaking, and she’d never live through that again for any man.
A knock on the front door made Brina jump. Her first thought was that it was Zane. Anticipation gripped her. And that aggravated her. Why did he have to be the first person to come to mind?
“It could be anyone, you ninny,” she whispered, and shook her head at how easily she could get caught up into thinking about the unforgettable earl. The man was a constant drain on her thoughts.
Maybe Adeline had walked over with her rambunctious little boy. Chatwyn loved to throw the ball to her while she and Adeline chatted. Perhaps Julia had stopped by for a visit or maybe even Mr. Inwood had sent more flowers. The young bachelor had already sent two baskets. All of them pink. He was handsome, nice, and gentlemanly. A note asking if he might call on her always accompanied the bouquets. Brina had absolutely no desire to have him court her. She had all she could handle wrapped up in a man named Blacknight.
Heaven help her! The only time he should cross her mind was when she was envisioning him going to his club and drowning himself in brandy and gambling all night long. That was the only thing that was going to save her from a marriage she couldn’t possibly accept.
Time was running out, and so far, he hadn’t cooperated.
“I’m only home for Adeline or Julia,” Brina called to Mrs. Lawton as she passed the dining room doorway heading to the front of the house.
“I understand, Mrs. Feld,” the housekeeper assured her without breaking her stride.
Determined to rid herself of purely selfish thoughts, Brina pulled a large, round tin out of her basket andplaced it on the table. Next, she grabbed the stack of thin cotton fabric she had cut into small squares, and then the lengths of string she’d carefully measured and snipped yesterday afternoon. She lined up everything perfectly on the table in the order she’d use them. This system made her project go faster.
After opening the tin, she shook most of the contents into the bowl and placed a teaspoon in the middle of it. That’s when she heard a man’s voice. A familiar voice. The earl’s voice.
Anticipation filled her again. Followed by more annoyance with herself. It would be so much easier if she felt nothing but mere curiosity when he came to her door. Why did he refuse the usual manner of sending a note asking to call on her at an appointed time? Why did she want to see him? He’d been nothing but trouble since the first time she met him. She would have saved herself a lot of distress if she’d left him tied to the chair.
Mrs. Lawton quietly appeared. “I know you didn’t want to be disturbed, Mrs. Feld, but it’s Lord Blacknight. He says he’s hoping you’ll make an exception and see him. He has something important he needs to discuss with you.”
“Important?” That got her interest. “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Lawton. Ask him to join me in here.”
Any resolve she’d had not to be affected by him melted away the moment he appeared in the doorway of the dining room. Her heart and chest felt as if it expanded. His tall lean body looked exceptionally powerful. The color and texture of his thick black hair and the way he combed it away from his face gave a strong, handsomely fierce appearance that drew her. Now, she knew she would never grow tired of looking at him or being moved by the sight of him.
His dark blue eyes brushed softly over her face. She didn’t know how, but she felt his deep desire for her.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Feld.”
Trying to tamp down all she was experiencing and her simple delight at seeing him, she said, “My lord, don’t you think it would have been nice to let me know you wanted to come over this afternoon?”
“I thought you liked surprises.”
His innocent comment made her smile. “Perhaps, but I’m not certain I always appreciate surprises from you.”
“You seemed to have a good time when I brought horses for you to ride. And the fast curricle.”
