Page 27 of The Pleasures of Passion
He suppressed his snort. Tiring, right. That was Mother Code forI’m bored. Her bad hip kept her from dancing, and she never liked being left out.
Clarissa brought him over to the corner where Mother sat complaining—to Bree. Damnation. No telling what nonsense she was blathering. He only hoped she wasn’t reinforcing Bree’s impression of him as some sort of feckless scoundrel who’d abandoned his mother in her time of need.
He walked up to them. “Mother, Clarissa tells me you’re ready to leave. I told her I’d accompany you.”
As he helped his mother rise, Bree rose, too. “Will you be coming back?” she asked.
“Not tonight,” Mother answered for him. “You’ll have him to yourself very soon, my dear, but I’ve scarcely seen him since his return to England, and I do have a great deal to discuss with him.”
Thatwas Mother Code forHe was mine first, and don’t you forget it. Fortunately for Bree, she didn’t care.
God, that depressed him.
“Good night, then,” Bree said.
He nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Clarissa nudged him. “For heaven’s sake, you just got engaged. You should at least kiss her good night.”
The look of alarm on Bree’s face was unmistakable. Good God, she reallywasn’tgood at pretending. Before anyone could notice that, he stepped close and pressed his mouth to hers.
It was the briefest of kisses, but as he drew back and she stared up at him with wide, guileless eyes, for an instant he was back in Green Park, trying to coax the woman he loved into loving him in return.
And just as it had back then, his heart hammered in his chest and his blood ran wild. She looked sweet and beautiful and everything a man could desire. He wanted to throw caution to the winds and drag her back into his arms for the kind of kiss heusedto give her.
Fortunately, his good sense prevailed. As she’d said, they were different people now. These days he was more conscious of his rank and wealth, and she was more guarded with men. Not to mention that they were both aware that this was just a ruse. Nothing else.
Or so he tried to tell himself, as he bowed to her and then left with Mother.
But as they headed for the door, he couldn’t help noticing that Lady Pensworth was looking upon him decidedly more kindly than before.
Five
What a beautiful afternoon to be outside in the garden! Brilliana was grateful for the reprieve from London’s usual damp, dreary weather. Aunt Agatha watched Silas play and babble, both of them unaware of the tumult in Brilliana’s breast as she sketched her handsome lad.
He was utterly content. The poor dear didn’t know or care that he was fatherless. Or the reason for it—because his papa’s jealousy of Niall had been so intense that he’d . . .
No, she wouldn’t think about that. It hadn’t been her fault. She hadn’t even known that Reynold knew of her former love until it was too late. She certainly hadn’t known what he intended to do about it. If she had, she would have put a swift end to it.
But would he have listened to her? Reynold had treated her like—how had Niall put it?—“a fine piece of art to show off to one’s friends.” Exactly the way Niall proposed to treat her, like Botticelli’s Venus.
Remembering the hot glance he’d given her, she shivered—as she’d never shivered with her husband. Oh, that was wicked of her. She should have loved Reynold. She’d certainly tried hard enough.
But Niall had ruined that for her. And he would be here any minute to muck up her life some more.
Determined not to dwell on that, Brilliana glanced at her sweet boy and traced the line of his jaw on her sketch. Silas would make a perfect Cupid for her latest design. She knew it was futile to hope, but she couldn’t give up her dream of designing for Wedgwood. The famous porcelain company had hired other women to work for it. Why not her? Granted, she’d sent them ten designs already and hadn’t heard a word, but she would send them fifty more if that was what it took to get them to notice her.
Silas started fussing over his jack-in-the-box, which Lord Blakeborough had made for him and which the boy simply could not stop mangling. The clown leapt out on a rather long spring, so Silas had some trouble stuffing it back in the box after it jumped out.
“Jack, Jack, Jack,” he chanted.
With a smile, Brilliana held out her hand. “Bring it here, my sweet. Mama will fix Jack.”
When Silas merely pouted at her, Aunt Agatha shook her head. “The lad is no fool. He knows that not everything can be fixed.”
“He’s just naturally suspicious,” Brilliana said. “As is his mama.”
Her aunt cast her a sharp glance. “You didn’t seem very suspicious last night. You accepted Lord Margrave’s marriage proposal rather readily.”
