Page 67 of The Pleasures of Passion
Aunt Agatha snapped the watch shut and held it out to Niall, her features as stiff as her starched pelerine. “Perhaps you should take this back, sir.”
Brilliana got suspicious when a flush rose over Niall’s features. Snatching the watch from her aunt’s hand, she opened the panel to stare at it. Then she, too, froze as she saw what was inside.
Opposite the exposed inner workings of the watch was a little scene of a naked man standing between the legs of a reclining naked woman and doingthatwith her in perfect time to the music.
“Oh, good Lord,” she muttered.
She couldn’t take her eyes off it. It was so veryawful. The man was freakishly well-endowed, with ballocks the size of oranges and athingthe size of a club. Worse yet, the woman’s breasts were the size of cantaloupes, with badly rendered nipples.
The artist in her rebelled. “Whoever drew this has no sense of anatomy whatsoever.”
Niall’s bark of laughter shook the carriage. “That’swhat concerns you about it? The quality of the art?”
“Jack!” Silas cried and tried to take the watch. “Jack!”
She snapped the watch shut and tossed it to Niall. “Oh no, my lad, there will be none of this sort of Jack for you. Not now, not ever.”
Niall only laughed all the harder, while Aunt Agatha muttered, “Good luck, my dear. I daresay Silas will grow up to be as incorrigible as the rest of them.”
As if to prove his great-aunt right, Silas climbed up on the seat next to Niall, crying, “Jack, Jack!”
“Sorry, lad,” Niall choked out. “Your mama says ‘no Jack.’ ” He leaned over to murmur, his eyes twinkling at her, “Not until you’re twelve at least.”
She bristled. “If you think you are going to corrupt my son as early as twelve, Niall Lindsey, you have another think coming! I will throw that thing away first, I swear.”
A strange look crossed his face. “When we marry, sweeting, you can throw away every watch I own. Including this one.”
Oh, dear, she’d as much as said that he would be in her life when Silas turned twelve.
Then he added, rather gleefully, “Although, to be fair, it’s not mine. It belongs to Warren.”
“Of course it does,” she snapped. “The two of you are peas in a pod.”
“Warren asked me to hide it now that he’s married—at least until he can convince Delia that he’snotthe rank scoundrel everyone believes she married. If you want it gone, I’ll give it back to him. Or to Edwin, who gave it to Warren when they were both bachelors.”
Now she was truly shocked. She wouldn’t put anything past Delia’s husband, but Clarissa’s? “Lord Blakeborough madethis?”
“No, I think he picked it up in some shop. You know how he likes automatons.”
“Well, he ought to have better taste in them. That rendering is horrendous.”
“Not as bad as some,” her aunt put in. “My late husband had a Swiss one. Dreadful artwork. He used to leave it open to shock the maids, until I gave him a piece of my mind.” She polished her spectacles with her handkerchief. “Men are children, my dear. The sooner you learn that, the better off you’ll be.”
That sobered Niall a bit. “I don’t think there’s any harm in having fun from time to time. For men or for women.”
Brilliana snorted. “I prefer other entertainments, myself.”
“Right.” A sudden twinkle appeared in Niall’s eyes. “Like a stroll in a garden, where you can observe the bark of the plane trees up close—for your sketches.”
The blatant allusion to their activities yesterday was beyond the pale. Infuriating.
She tipped up her chin. “I do enjoy a good stroll—especially asolitaryone.”
He flashed her an impish smile. “I should think you’d have had enough of solitary strolls after the past year.”
“Reynold wasn’t much for strolling, anyway,” Aunt Agatha put in. “My nephew preferred to drink.”
Brilliana gaped at her. “Aunt Agatha! Don’t tell him that. You mustn’t speak ill of the dead.”
