Page 22 of In Compromise with the Earl
“Him?” she asked. “Do you mean Lord Tennesley?”
“Yes,” Jameson sneered. “The joke of theton. That foolish cuckold. I’ve seen how he looks at you, Aphrodite. God forbid that you even entertain such a disgrace.”
She grew angry. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said what I said,” his lip curled.
“And I am giving you the chance to recant your statement.”
“I will not. A Lady like you should never be near him,” the Duke huffed.
She bit her lip, barely stopping herself from saying something she would regret. She had more weeks there with him and could not start to insult him yet.
“I’ll take that under advisement,” Aphrodite said. “We were only sharing a game of cards, Your Grace. And if you do remember, all of us are here for the same reason. Good evening, Your Grace.”
With a curt nod of her head, she hurried back into the parlor and reseated herself with Oswald. He cocked his head to her, excused himself and came back with two filled wineglasses.
“I do not like the way the Duke looks at you,” Oswald said. “He is too familiar, by far.”
“It’s a long, dreary story,” she said. “We met years ago, but there is something about him that I cannot abide.”
Swirling his wine, Oswald said, “I can assume what it is, his sickening hubris and patronizing manner. The way he looks down on others as if they were mud under his shoes. He is halfway across the room, and he irritates me, and we have not spoken a word.”
Nearly snorting into her wine, Aphrodite nodded. “He’s prouder than a peacock on a pedestal. He hates you by the way.”
Oswald shrugged. “Who doesn’t? I think I have a list somewhere. It won’t take me too long to add his name. Not that I give a damn.”
“He’s here to court me,” Aphrodite said. “The man cannot take a hint and realize that his prowess might be better spent on some featherbrained chit who cares for his clueless charms. He thinks his money and station will win me over, not to mention that he’s probably brokered a deal with my father, as if I were a fatted calf ready for the sacrificial table.”
“Why haven’t you married?” Oswald asked.
Her lips slanted. “That is a topic for another conversation. I think I shall retire, My Lord. Good night.”
With a curtsy—oddly done in breeches—she left the room, leaving Oswald behind. She did not know how he would react to how she had met eligible Lords, all perfectly right for a status marriage, but rejected them as they lacked the one thing she wanted most—passion.
A lot of them think love is not necessary for a match, but I do.
None of the men had touched her heart the way her secretly romantic soul wanted. She knew that many in thetonlooked down on a love-match marriage, aslovewas not a particular requirement for marriage. Most of them only cared to keep the old money in the family and use it as a cudgel to outclass others.
How will Oswald know I want to marry for love? I know he admitted to it for the cause of his marriage, but perhaps his ideals have changed.
Aphrodite did not want to look a fool before him, so she decided to keep her intentions to herself until she knew more about him. The kiss in the lake thrilled her, but circumspection began to set in. Things were going a touch too fast, and she had more than two weeks to dally there.
She knew she had to be strategic with the time, use it to her advantage and, hopefully, in the end, end up with the scandal she needed or the man she wanted. All this matchmaking blather was a game and she had to play it right—which meant taking some time from one target and look at others.
Besides, Lady Pandora was set on keeping her away from Oswald and for a time, Aphrodite was going to play along and humor her old friend. After lighting a lamp and some candles, she undressed and changed into her nightclothes. She slipped between the sheets, wondering, and slightly fearing, what would come the next day.
* * *
From the look on Lady Pandora’s face that afternoon, Oswald realized that their carefree past couple of days were about to end. She looked very much like any cutthroat businessman he had met over the years since he had inherited his Earldom.
“Ah, Lord Tennesley, thank you for being prompt to your meeting. Please sit. We’re here to discuss business,” she said with a curtness that had him narrowing his gaze on her.
Blinking, he sat, cocked his head and appraised her with the same attention he gave to any Lord who came to him with business dealings. He might have experience in money and dealing with tenants, investors and workers, but she had a firm footing in an area he was at sea with.
“And what are we going to speak about?” he asked.
She handed him a sheet of paper, a quill and an inkwell. “I’ve brought you here because I do believe that I can help with your problem. I know a few pertinent things about your life, things others I do not know—”
