Page 16 of Counting on a Countess
What’s wrong with me?Kit’s pride gave an indignant throb.
“I’ve already agreed to go,” Miss Pearce answered. “And Iwantto go. I like him.” She sounded astonished by this fact.
A quick burst of brightness popped in his chest.
“Besides,” she continued, “I don’t think he’s a poor investment.”
“He’ll make a terrible husband,” Lady Daleford warned. “Men like him takemistresses. They stick their wives in the country and never see them. He’ll be exactly the same.”
Damn—the older woman seemed to have read his mind. He’d never desired marriage, but to hear her discredit his husbandly attributes irritated him.
“He’s precisely what I need,” Miss Pearce countered.
And what might that be?he wondered silently.
But whatever her motivations, the end result matched his own desire for a woman he could see himself marrying, and a woman who would be amenable to the world’s shortest courtship. She also seemed unconcerned by the fact that he’d have lovers or deposit her at a far-flung country estate.
“Iwillgo,” Miss Pearce concluded in a tone that would brook no argument.
He couldn’t decide whether or not it was a good thing that she possessed a strong spine. If they were to marry, she would have to accept the fact that he had no intention of changing the way he lived his life. So long as he kept her comfortable, he reasoned, she’d have no cause to complain. He’d give her a comfortable allowance while he used the lion’s share of his income to fund the pleasure garden. Everyone would have what they wanted.
But all that was irrelevant unless she agreed to marry him. Though she might not if she found him lurking in corridors and eavesdropping, so he hurried to the foyer to wait.
Miss Pearce smiled at him as she entered the vestibule, then she passed Kit to go upstairs and change. She made a pretty shape as she ascended the staircase, moving with confidence mixed with instinctive sensuality.
Kit could hardly wait for the wedding night.Ifshe agreed to marry.
“Ahem.”
He turned in mid-ogle to see Lady Daleford glowering at him.
She advanced on him, her eyes sharp and piercing. “I know why you’re calling on Tamsyn,” she said darkly. “You’re panting to get your hands on Lord Somerby’s blunt, and she’s the key.”
“It doesn’t seem like my being an earl, and making her my countess, is an abominable fate,” he answered blandly.
“The title doesn’t trouble me,” she retorted. “It’s your reputation. Gaming hells, demimondaines, opera dancers... hardly the pursuits of an honorable gentleman.”
“Perhaps I can reform,” Kit replied.I won’t.
“You won’t.” Lady Daleford sounded confident. “Tamsyn deserves better.”
Kit wasn’t precisely the ideal upper-class man, however her words were little barbs digging into his flesh. He might not be admitted to Almack’s, but, damn it, he’d fought Napoleon. One didn’t return from the blood and mud and boredom and terror without needing some relief—and it wasn’t found at the bottom of a cup of watery lemonade.
“Let’s allow Miss Pearce to decide what she wants,” he countered.
It looked as though Lady Daleford wanted to say more, but her mouth clamped shut as footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Kit turned to see Miss Pearce descending the steps, a shy but eager smile playing about her lips. His chest constricted with pleasure at the sight of her, and he felt his blood quickening.
He barely noticed a ruddy-cheeked woman in plain clothing trailing behind her—instead, he couldn’t tear his gaze from the young woman. She’d donned a lavender redingote and wore a straw bonnet with a matching pale purple ribbon, making her look like a flower from a tropical climate. The color highlighted her complexion and made the light brown of her eyes shine. Everything about her spoke of freshness and vigor, and she seemed ready to meet any experience with unconcealed energy.
Even though she knew he watched her, she didn’t make a show of descending the stairs, prolonging his admiration. Coming to stand in front of him, he caught her fragrance—something warm and spicy—and he flared his nostrils, trying to inhale her all at once. She tilted up her chin. This close, he could see the many tiny freckles that danced over her skin.
Each one a place to kiss, he thought unexpectedly, and wondered if they covered just her face or if there were more on her body.
“Shall we?” He offered her his arm.
Wordlessly, she moved to stand beside him and placed her fingers on his forearm. She wore gloves, and he a coat and shirt, so there was no flesh-to-flesh contact. Just the same, his heartbeat jolted at the pressure of her hand on him.
