Page 17 of Tempting the Bluestocking
Her gaze grew heated, the brilliant irises darkening a shade. “Among other things.”
Laying his fork beside his empty plate, he shrugged. “I suppose it is easy to think of what I’m doing as some sort of noble effort for the sake of my family when you have been my one and only keeper thus far.”
She shook her head in disagreement. “If a hundred women had come before me, my opinion would remain unchanged. Though, I cannot say I might not suffer a bit of envy.”
“Do not worry, CeCe. You’re the only woman I’ve ever seduced with talk of science.”
Raising her glass, she beamed at him in a way that made him feel ten feet tall. “To making the best of things, even when they’re at their worst.”
Lifting his glass, he clinked it against hers. “To being taken by surprise.”
Chapter 7
Clare sat across the small, rough wooden table from Edward, watching as he dug into the bowl before him with enthusiasm. A few days following their first night together, he had suggested they have their dinner at one of his favorite haunts. According to Edward, the intimate coffee house nestled in Covent Garden had the best Indian cuisine to be found in London. Downstairs, the men enjoyed their tea, coffee, or curries. Meanwhile, Edward had requested the use of a private room, sneaking her in through a back entrance to avoid Clare being noticed. He’d wanted her to enjoy the food without having to worry over the ruin that would be made of her reputation by setting foot in a male haunt.
While traveling Europe with Aunt Helene, Clare had tasted a variety of new foods. But, she’d never sampled the robust, spicy fare laid out before them in various dishes and platters.
“Try the curry,” Edward urged between bites. “I wager you’ve never tasted anything so good.”
Glancing down at the heavily sauced chicken and mound of steaming rice before her, she lifted her spoon. Edward watched her with parted lips, as if anticipating her taking the first bite. She obliged him, scooping a portion of the chicken, the aromatic spices wafted up her nostrils. Her eyes widened at the abundance of flavors exploding across her tongue, accentuated by a burst of heat that she found both pleasant and tear-inducing. Blinking her watering eyes, she met Edward’s gaze.
“Oh my,” she murmured, taking a spoonful of the rice, then reaching out for a disk of the flat bread resting between them. Edward had referred to it asnaan.
“Do you like it?” he asked with a smile.
“Very much,” she murmured, following his lead and taking both the rice and the curry onto her spoon to combine them. “I must send for some to be delivered at home so Aunt Helene can try it.”
“The two of you are sure to become as enamored with the food as I am. An old school friend of mine would invite me home with him between terms, and his cook was from Calcutta. I leaped at the chance to join him every chance I got, even though I knew I’d fall prey to the matchmaking schemes of his mother. She had three young daughters, two of whom were nearing marriageable age.”
She giggled at the face he made, as if his curry had suddenly turned sour. “I take it that like most bachelors you’ve spent years avoiding the matrimonial noose.”
He paused for a moment, fiddling with his spoon. “Perhaps not avoiding it in the way you might think. I’m not opposed to marriage, and if the right woman were to come along at the right time, I’d be happy to settle down and begin a family of my own.”
She supposed that shouldn’t come as much of a surprise. The more she came to learn about Edward, the clearer it was that family meant a great deal to him. Caring for his siblings was what had driven him to become her courtesan.
Curiosity urged her to press further.
“Has there ever been anyone…a woman you considered for marriage?”
He tore his gaze from hers, staring down into his bowl. “I haven’t let myself consider it. Not now, when my life is in shambles. I have nothing to offer a wife and my family name is now synonymous with shoddy business practices.”
The dejection in his voice pricked her somewhere deep within her chest. It wasn’t pity, exactly. It was more of a deep sorrow she felt knowing that his family’s financial woes had hindered him from opening himself to the possibility of love and marriage.
“Any woman who can’t look past your family name or temporary circumstances isn’t worth marrying,” she declared, her voice grown heavy and thick with emotion.
Edward wasn’t like her, she could see that clearly. She had closed herself off to the idea of a husband and children, had made up her mind that it simply wasn’t as important as she’d first believed. But his words had been revealing, and now she could all but see the need radiating from him in visible currents. The need to have something of his own that hadn’t been handed down by his father—something that wasn’t a failing business, or a mountain of debt, or two siblings who needed his care.
Reaching across the table with his free hand, he intertwined his fingers with hers. “I am flattered you think so. But I cannot blame any woman for wanting a secure future. Once I am able to provide that, I suppose I can then turn my mind to marriage.”
“Whoever your bride happens to be, she’ll be fortunate to have you.”
The moment the words fell from her lips, Clare’s mind overwhelmed her with thoughts of Edward with another woman. Kissing her. Holding her. Making love to her without pulling away at the end with the hopes that it would result in a child. Clearing her throat, she pulled her hand from his grasp. It was ridiculous of her to feel a bit of jealousy over a nonexistent woman, especially when their association was based on nothing more than carnal desires and a bank draft.
“What of you?” Edward asked.
Pausing after a sip of tea, she frowned. “What about me?”
“You made it clear that you had no interest in intimate relations. Does that indifference apply to marriage as well?”
