“Except for the fact that Mrs. Colthrust doesn’t like to hear you play the pianoforte,” Gwen said with a smirk.
Lillian smiled. “She doesn’t like to hear Saint bark either.”
“Or Bonnie squeal,” Louisa added.
The three sisters looked at each other and laughed.
A quick flash of relief washed over Louisa, and she felt as if a great weight had flown off her shoulders.
“Now, both of you young ladies give me another hug, and then back up to bed you go.”
A few minutes later, the girls were gone and Louisa picked up her book and settled back onto the comfortable chair. Everything was going to be all right between her and her sisters. If only she felt so confident that everything was going to be all right between her and the duke, now that he was their guardian. It was a horrible thing for her uncle to have done to them.
Louisa curled her feet under her once more. She closed her eyes and laid her head back against the front of the chair. The handsome duke paraded into her mind, looking so tall, so handsome, and so appealing. How could she be so attracted to him and so infuriated by him at the same time? What could she do to banish him from her thoughts?
Chapter 10
…’Tis much he dares
And, to that dauntless temper of his mind,
He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valor
To act in safety.
—Macbeth,act 3, scene 1
Bray had given up the habit of drinking all day and all night, too, the morning Nathan Prim died. Bray promised himself he’d never get that drunk again, and he hadn’t, though he still always kept a glass of stout red wine in front of him when he was playing cards well into the wee hours of morning at one of his favorite gaming clubs. He still raced his curricle a few times a year, but never with the same enthusiasm as before the tragic accident. He hadn’t even tried to give up card games and dice, his trysts with actresses and willing widows, or wagers that either won or lost him a fortune. What kind of man would he be if he gave up everything wicked?
But he had less time for such indulgent pleasures since he became the duke. He hadn’t appreciated the responsibility his father had when he was alive. Now that Bray was the duke, he was more understanding if not forgiving of all the time his father had spent working on the responsibilities that came with being a powerful titled man. No one enjoyed the pursuit of pleasure more than his father, but he’d always told Bray that he must take care of business first.
After Miss Prim and her chattering, screaming siblings had left, he somehow managed to stay at home and work on the account ledgers he was reviewing when Mrs. Colthrust had marched the Prim girls into his home. But it hadn’t been easy. Thoughts of Miss Prim’s accusations had him sitting on the edge of his chair all afternoon. He still couldn’t believe she had the nerve to accuse him of deliberately keeping Saint from her sisters. Especially when he’d never wanted to take the dog in the first place.
At times, Saint had been a downright nuisance; at other times, he was a welcoming friend when Bray came home. The first night Saint was at his town house, Bray tried to keep him outside in the back garden. As far as he was concerned, dogs were for hunting, alerting their owners that strangers were approaching, or for guarding sheep. Not even when he was a young boy were dogs kept in the house.
But the first night, Saint howled, barked, and growled at the back door until Bray went belowstairs and let him in, thinking Saint would find an old rug to curl up on and go to sleep. But no, the dog followed him up the stairs. It was as if Saint had a sixth sense and knew which bedchamber was Bray’s. From a running jump, he landed on the foot of Bray’s bed and made himself comfortable. He’d slept there every night since, even on the nights Bray didn’t come home, according to Mr. Tidmore.
Now, here Bray was into his fifth hour of playing cards and rolling dice at one of the less popular gaming hells on the east side of Bond Street, having had one bad hell of a hand and die roll after another. He’d changed from whist to hazard and back again because he couldn’t concentrate. And the reason he couldn’t focus on the cards or dice was because he couldn’t keep his mind off the infuriating Miss Prim and her damning accusations.
She had more nerve than the Prince, and he was drowning in it.
He couldn’t believe he’d actually gotten all her sisters’ names correct. What were the odds? And blast it, since when was saying “good Lord” swearing? Only a vicar’s daughter would come up with a foolish notion like that. He didn’t like being taken to task about his language not being proper for small ears. Now he knew why their name was Prim.
Miss Prim had asked him how he could not know they would want the dog. He should have asked her why she didn’t know he’d never keep a pet from a child. He was thanking the hand of fate that she’d refused to marry him. He would go mad if he had to live with all those squealing girls! No man should be expected to endure that sound.
Being raked over hot coals about swearing, or trying to understand why a little girl would cry over something that wasn’t broken wasn’t even the worst of it—though bad enough, to be sure. When he’d seen tears gathering in Miss Prim’s eyes, it made him angry with himself that he’d caused her pain. And all because of a dog he hadn’t wanted anyway. Damnation, every mistress he’d ever had cried when he gave them a parting gift. Young ladies of quality had sought him out at balls and parties, crying because he wouldn’t ask for their hand in marriage. He’d seen many women cry and pretend he’d crushed and mishandled their sweet affections.
Not even Miss Sybil’s big tears rolling down her chubby cheeks had bothered him.
Miss Prim’s did.
Though she’d never let them spill over onto her cheek. He was impressed with the fortitude she’d shown in accomplishing that, because she was truly heartbroken the girls had missed those two years with Saint. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to pull her into his arms and comfort her with kisses. Not that he thought for a moment she would have let him.
With kisses?
Hell yes, he would have liked to comfort her with soft, sweet kisses. He wanted to start high on her cheekbone just below her eye and let his lips trail all the way down to the corner of her mouth before capturing her voluptuous lips beneath his. He wanted to pull her close and press her womanly body tightly against him.
Miss Louisa Prim was a fiery and fiercely devoted young lady, and he had no doubt she would be just as passionate as a lover.
