Isabelle pursed her lips. “If he doesn’t, I can take care of him.” However, her eyes still twinkled as she tried—and failed—to hold back giggles.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Pena muttered. He angled his body between Aaron and the women, and Aaron wondered whom exactly he was protecting.
“I’ll see that Isabelle doesn’t draw too much blood.” Rebecca sidled up to Isabelle’s shoulder. “After all, it’s such a bother to remove from tapestries.”
“You’re no fun.” Isabelle pouted at her friend until Pena exited with an exaggerated grumble, closing the door behind him.
There was a beat of silence.
He stared at Isabelle, waiting for her to elaborate, or more importantly, assure him he’d not actually lose a limb around her. However, the woman neither faltered nor blushed, her expression slightly piqued.
“This way,” she instructed as she led him and the midwife’s daughter out of the room, up a staircase, down a long corridor, and through an impressive double-doored entryway.
Once inside the high-ceilinged but somehow intimate chamber, she turned back to him. “This is quite the start.” She had the nerve to sound annoyed as she folded her hands in front of her skirts, revealing a line of what had to be at least two dozen tiny jeweled buttons on each of her gloves. “Rebecca knows everything, so you can speak freely,” she added, waving her hand as her friend took up a seat on the far fainting couch.
“I couldn’t very well walk through the streets dressed as a juggler.” He coughed into his hand before strolling to the rather welcoming fire and leaning against the black marble. “But you should know, I ran into one of the men on your list this morning and we had a chat. It’s amazing what people will say while you’re shining their boots.”
His chest puffed with more pride in the ruse than he should possess at such a small success. However, in his life even victories like that one were large. He swallowed. Unlike for Isabelle, or any of the men whom she was considering.
“Who? And what did you learn?” Isabelle’s voice brought him back to the present.
“Jacob Shultz, despite having a degree from Rotterdam, a successful coral import business with his family, and a scholarly lineage he’s taken to claiming includes Moses Kohn of Narol, owes quite the number of gambling debts. To several gentile clubs. Here and in Paris.” Aaron straightened, tugging on the ill-fitting, dull waistcoat that Miriam had helped him negotiate from a rag dealer—a far cry from Isabelle’s silver and metal sparkles. “As does his father.”
“That gives me no leverage and could damage our respectability.” She stuck out her lower lip, huffing in clear vexation. Oy, was she going to stamp her delicately shod foot too? “I suppose that means he’s one to avoid at all costs.”
“That’s a pity.” Rebecca tutted from the leather couch in the far corner.
“Why?” Both he and Her Highness asked in unison.
“You’ve not seen him, have you?” Rebecca smirked with such glee that he couldn’t help rolling his eyes. Shultz was decent to look at, for sure, but not smirk level.
“No. What does he look like?” Isabelle moved to her friend, sinking down on the seat next to her. Which was not at all irksome.
“Tall. Broad. Robust. With thick lashes and sculpted cheeks and a rather nice jawline with and without the beard he’s been growing between Fridays during the Omer.” Rebecca ticked off each quality. “The best on the list by far. At least to view.”
Aaron glanced at Isabelle to gauge her reaction. When she appeared unfazed, he released an odd breath he hadn’t known he was holding. So those werenotphysical qualities she admired? Not that it mattered to him, per se . . .
“The type of jaw one might want to kiss along,” the midwife’s daughter added.
“Do men like that?” A lock of hair slid across her forehead as she addressed him, her dark eyes sharp. “Being kissed along their jaw?” Her gaze was direct, almost serious. As if his answer mattered.
Aaron blinked. That wasn’t possible, so what did she really want?
“I can picture enjoying kissing with Shultz, certainly. You really should see him.” Rebecca rose—her expression, to Aaron’s chagrin, almost dreamy.
Aaron ground his jaw. Did they really have to keep on about the man? And Rebecca was supposed to be Isabelle’s friend, so she should be reminding her that there was more to life than a handsome jawline. Though, given Isabelle’s criteria for a husband included someone she could control at work and enjoy in bed . . .
He rocked on his heels, his worn boots chafing his ankles. This was none of his business. None of his business nor part of his job and—
Isabelle placed a finger to her lips. “Is this Shultz really that good looking?” But she squinted at him, not her friend, making his breath hitch once more.
He tugged at his collar. Mercy, it was getting warm. Someone should open a window. “I wouldn’t know—I focused mostly on his shoes.” He mumbled the lie. “And listened to his answers to my questions.”
“Naturally.” Isabelle’s lip quirked. “Then back to my first question—kissing along the jaw—is that enjoyable? It’s an important question if I’m to consider your advice about . . . compatibility with a husband. Your advice on attraction and physical capabilities specifically.” The last she added sharply, a reminder of her stance on the more “ephemeral emotions,” as she’d called them.
“And I ask because you’re the only person in this room with actual experience. Unless I’ve missed events in Rebecca’s life?” She glanced at her friend, who only rolled her eyes behind her spectacles before shaking her head.
But before she could continue, a sharp bark broke the air and the same creature from the prior night rushed into the room, jumping at his mistress’s legs. Isabelle bent down and scooped the black ball of fur into her arms, allowing him to lick her neck as he squirmed.
