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She frowned at him.
“Whether you marry me or not, I shall never marry Fulvia.”
“But—”
“Before I met you, I thought it didn’t matter if I lived apart from my wife. I thought as long as she had her own interests—in Fulvia’s case, the theater—it wouldn’t matter if she took a lover, or I a mistress.”
Ella swallowed. It was nonsense, but the very idea of Lord Peregrine taking a mistress made her want to utter one of Joe’s piercing shrieks: the ones he saved for danger. Real danger.
“I don’t feel that way any longer.”
“You scarcely know me.”
“Absolutely true. I want to get to know you better. I believe you are a woman who would prefer to know my intentions. I intend to court you, Fenella St. Trevelyon. So please call me Fiennes, and I shall call you Ella, as your aunt does.”
Every inch of him was an aristocrat. Regina had spitefully said once that Lord Peregrine was a boring dresser, always wearing black with touches of spotless white linen.
Ella couldn’t imagine anything more elegant. He was so confident, wearing his beautifully tailored clothing like a suit of armor.
“I suppose I can call you Fiennes if we happen to be in private, but I’d rather you didn’t court me,” she said, deciding to be frank. “I don’t want to marry a man with the capacity for unkindness. My uncle …” She hesitated.
His eyes had a furious gleam. “Has he done more to you, Ella, than lock you in the garret?”
“No, no,” she said hastily. “But his comments are routinely unpleasant. It’s given me a dislike of your gender, to be honest. He says unkind, diminishing things to my aunt regularly. He expects her to simply accept them, and she does. I would not.”
He nodded. “I understand the power of an insult. My father insulted my mother, after which she retired to the country and never saw him again, not even on his deathbed.”
Ella narrowed her eyes. Was there a flicker of insecurity in his face? Impossible. “She sounds like a very decisive woman.”
“Yes, and stubborn as well. My father regularly insulted women. He thought those jests were particularly funny. Yet I think he was genuinely horrified when she overheard him.”
“I expect that’s true.” In her mind’s eye, Ella raised a glass to a woman who fought back, albeit dramatically.
“I must point out that it is not only men who are unkind. Lady Regina is well-versed in the art of cruelty.”
“Also true,” Ella replied. Reluctantly, she decided she had probably been wrong in thinking he was a version of her uncle.
The viscount would never, ever, speak so clearly or openly to a woman. Or to a man, for that matter.
A clattering sound caught their attention, and they both glanced down to find Joe trundling an accord across the floor.
“He is bringing you a present,” Ella explained. “He will expect you to give him something. It’s an exchange, you see.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have acorns. But I do have this.” He fished in his pocket.
“Is that a candied violet?”
“Indeed. My favorite mare, Milly, loves candied violets. Like your squirrel, Milly loves me better when I come bearing gifts. I stole the violet from a teacake when I took Regina to tea on your instructions.”
“I do thank you for that,” Ella said. “My aunt needed to collect herself.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners, and Ella’s heart skipped a beat. “Milly is lucky to have a larcenous owner,” she said. “If you don’t mind giving it away, Joe would adore that sweet.”
Fiennes put the candied violet on the floor. Joe rolled the acorn to his feet and cautiously sniffed the violet before grabbing it in his mouth and bounding away. Fiennes watched him go, bending down to peer under the bed.
“Is the hatbox his bed?”
“Yes. He had been sleeping in a cardboard box on the mantelpiece until a week or so ago, when he started to collect bits of fabric, paper, and leaves. He’s making himself a bed. I think he’s growing up,” she said rather proudly.
