Page 26 of In Compromise with the Earl
A quick knock sounded on her door, and she twisted to see Lydia walking in. “Pardon me, My Lady, I think it’s time for you to be sharing tea with Lord Easton. Shall I help you get ready?”
“Ah, yes,” she stood. “I think I must hurry.”
She changed into a silver-tissue gown with touches of rose embroidery along the neckline of the bodice. It embraced her breasts and clung to her tiny waist, falling in waves of foamy swaths down to her slippers. Lydia fixed Aphrodite’s golden curls to gracefully tumble about her shoulders.
Standing, she gazed into the mirror and smiled. “This should do it.”
* * *
The tearoom was rounded and intimate, with carved low-relief ornaments in plaster against painted panels likened to Roman stuccos. The table was already set but the Lord was standing at the large bow window, gazing out to the yards beyond. He stood with both hands clasped behind him and his bearing was rather military.
She cocked her head, “Infantry or cavalry, My Lord?”
He turned and smiled, “Neither. His Majesty’s Navy, for a few years. My father was Captain and served in the wars. I enrolled and served for a while to keep his legacy going.”
“I assumed,” Aphrodite said while he pulled out a chair for her.
“What gave you the inkling?” he asked, brushing an auburn lock from his eyes.
While opening her napkin, she explained, “Your bearing, it is quite powerful.”
“You have astute eyes, My Lady,” he smiled gently.
Lydia came to pour her tea before a arranging a cup of coffee for the Lord, then took a seat, unobtrusive to the two. Aphrodite sipped the aromatic brew before looking over the spread of delicate cakes and fruit to her partner. “What did you first think when Lady Pandora set me as you as your prospective wife?”
“That she had set me up on an edge of ledge where I would undoubted tumble from,” the Lord laughed. “I’m not sure what she was thinking in making us a match.”
“That is odd, isn’t it?” Aphrodite said. “And now, I’m questioning it too. I have everything one thinks I need, money, comfort, an enviable education and access to a lot of powerful people, but you should know that for most of my life I was termed as a hoyden masquerading as a lady.”
His brows lifted. “I can see that. The breeches you wore the other night gave me—all of us—a hint. What made you gain that name anyway?”
“I almost set fire to Madame Dufour’s Refining School’s parlor in southern France,” Aphrodite said nonchalantly. “That is after I was seen practicing throwing knives. Or perhaps it was after I bested a lord in racing one afternoon. Take your pick.”
Lord Easton laughed. “My sister would have conniptions seeing you.”
“Your family is fairly traditional, I suppose?” Aphrodite said.
“Very,” he sighed while nudging the cup out of the way. “And yours?”
“I cannot say,” she replied. “After mother passed, father had a parade of maids, nurses and governesses tend to me while he went about sowing his wild oats. I never knew what exactly my family is like.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Blinking, she replied, “What? For my father?”
“No, your late mother,” Lord Easton clarified, his handsome features dimmed with sympathy.
“Thank you, but no need for the long face; I have a few memories but nothing much to make me sink into despondency,” she replied. “Anyway, how was it you ended up here? You’re certainly charming enough to have wooed a bride.”
His brow lifted. “You do not play the coy game, do you?”
She shrugged. “What’s the point? Batting lashes, dropping handkerchiefs, double-entendre when speaking, swooning? It’s too much for so little.”
“Some women find pleasure in those games,” he replied. “Especially with the Lady I was set on. Last season’s Diamond of the First Water, a willowy, olive-toned brunette, a lady with bright wit and even brighter smiles. Sadly, she chose another.”
“My sympathies,” Aphrodite replied genuinely before cutting into a tart. “My father wants me to pair with Duke Strathmore, but he is not my version of perfection. My taste runs toward dark-haired, surly, mercurial men.”
Lowering his gaze, Lord Easton said, “It behests me to warn you, My Lady, you are wading into troubled waters there.”
