There was another silence.
“That... depends?”
Surely this wasn’t happening.
“We so hope you prefer to stay, Your Grace. We’velovedhaving you here, and we enjoy making you comfortable. We think, however, in addition to your apology, you might offer to assist Miss Wylde in learning to speak Italian. She is clever and has expressed regret that she doesn’t speak it when she sings it so magnificently. She learned it by listening and mimicking, and we admire her pluck. Perhaps you can offer her a few hours of your time to tutor her in the language.”
“Give hermoreof my time? I’m to do penance as well?”
He was accustomed to incinerating others with a censorious gaze.
He’d never reckoned with the power of a pair of brown eyes and a pair of hazel eyes, both aimed at him with a sort of implacable, feminine sympathy.
“It’s one suggestion, Your Grace. Perhaps you’ve another gracious gesture in mind,” Mrs. Hardy said.
Oh, she was good. How petulant it would be if he’d said,How about no gesture?
It was the modifier of “gracious” that rather fenced him in.
“We will also have a word with Miss Wylde, about ways in which she can feel comfortable to be herself without...”
“...working my last nerve?” he said grimly.
“We’re so sorry that’s how you experience it. Perhaps she’s merely trying to impress you,” Mrs. Durand suggested brightly.
“No doubt,” he muttered. This seemed likely.He knew Miss Wylde wanted his attention. But most females did try to impress him. He wished they would nottry. It was like being flogged with little satin ribbons, repeatedly. He supposed there were men who might enjoy and even pay for ribbon-flogging, but he found it confounding and pointless. A bit like shadowboxing.
He sighed. “Very well, Mrs. Hardy. Mrs. Durand. I shall apologize to Miss Wylde and offer her Italian lessons. Do send her in, if you would.”
They stood, and he stood.
“...and then I shall congratulate Hardy and Bolt on having the good fortune to marry such diabolical females.”
They departed, wearing smiles, to send Miss Wylde, while he was left to wait for Miss Wylde like a damned suitor.
Presently, she appeared.
“Ah, good morning, Miss Wylde. Thank you for agreeing to meet me here in the reception room.”
“You’re welcome, Your Grace,” she said pleasantly.
He didn’t ask her to sit. Which was all to the good. Mariana didn’t want to spend any more time in his company than absolutely necessary, and she supposed it was a signal that he intended to get this over with quickly.
“I’ve something I’d like to say,” he continued.
“Very well.”
There ensued a pause that grew comical in duration.
“Take your time, Your Grace,” she said gently. “When you’ve never said those particular words aloud before, you might be a little uncertain about their pronunciation. I’ll be happy to assist you if you stumble. I excel at parroting things.”
She could literally see the muscle in his jaw flex when his teeth clamped down.
“I apologize for hurting your feelings.” He said it rather quickly and tersely.
“...and embarrassing me,” she prompted generously, as if he were a novice actor and they were learning a script together.
“And I apologize for embarrassing you. It was unkind and unworthy of me. I should not have done it.”
