Page 18 of Tempting the Bluestocking
“I’m not really indifferent,” she replied. “Merely resigned to the fact that what I want might not really exist.”
She glanced up to find him watching her, his stare pensive and probing.
“And what do you want?”
Clare mulled that over for a moment before answering. It wasn’t that she didn’t know what she wanted—she’d always known. She simply did not know how to express it out loud in a way that wouldn’t make her sound completely insane. Still, she gave it a most valiant effort.
“Well, I am not keen on the idea of being married just for the sake of it. It does not bother me one bit to be called a spinster or to be viewed as somehow less than my peers for failing to secure a match. If I ever marry—a prospect that becomes less likely with each passing year—it will be because I’ve met the man I simply cannot live without. It does not seem worth it to me otherwise. But, as I said…I am not certain such a phenomenon truly exists. Love seems like such an abstract notion to me. Elsewise, why would it be so elusive?”
She looked away then, certain he would think she was mad. People married for all sorts of reasons that had nothing to do with love. Especially women, who must consider their futures as well as things such as status and money. Men needed heirs to carry on family legacies. Rarely did any of it involve love, and married couples seemed to get on just fine without it.
However, she was surprised to glance up and find Edward’s gaze still locked on her, the intensity of it deepened as he brushed his fingers against hers in a feather-light gesture. Her breath caught and held as he did it again, tracing the tip of his finger along the edge of hers, sending shivers racing up her arm.
“I don’t think it is as elusive as you think,” he murmured, interlacing their fingers and fitting his palm against hers. “Difficult to find, perhaps, but not impossible. And I do not think it’s unreasonable for you to want it. You deserve nothing less, CeCe.”
Her throat began to burn from how long it took her to remember how to breathe, her insides erupting into a confusing ripple of unnamed emotion. With a little shake of her head, she reminded herself that Edward was a courtesan. It was his job to seduce her in bed as well as out of it. Perhaps he truly did believe in love, and maybe he thought her a good person worthy of the sort of marriage she would want if the opportunity presented itself. That wasn’t a good enough reason for her heart to pound, her palms to grow damp, and her chest to swell with hope.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice low and strained.
Pulling her hand away, she gave him a small smile. His intense expression melted away and his boyish grin appeared, putting her at ease. She’d revealed more to him in a few days than she ever had to another living soul. Perhaps it was nothing more than a side-effect of the sort of intimacy she’d always avoided. She supposed it was nice to have someone to confide in along with the other obvious pleasures.
As they resumed their meal and the light, easy banter that had begun the night, she told herself that it didn’t have to mean anything, except perhaps that she’d gained a friend of sorts as well as a lover. It certainly did not mean that the hope unfurling from some hidden place deep within her had anything to do with him.
2 weeks later…
When Helene returned to London, she entered the townhouse to find Clare setting an arrangement of fresh-cut blossoms from the greenhouse. Approaching the round table gracing the center of the entrance hall, she watched as Clare worked to get the placement of lilies, roses, and jasmine just right. She’d spent a pleasant morning with her plants, notating the pleasing progress of her hybrids, which had produced bright green sprouts a few days ago. They continued to grow as she kept the soil damp and ensured they received ample light on sunny days. She anticipated they would begin to bud and blossom in a few more weeks, revealing the results of her experiment.
“Welcome home,” she said, standing back to study her work. “How was your time away?”
“Quiet, and a nice reprieve from this overcrowded city for a time,” her aunt replied, reaching out to caress the petals of a bright red rose. “This is lovely. Such vibrant colors.”
Clare peered at her over the tangle of flowers and pursed her lips, certain that the last thing her aunt wanted to talk about right now was a flower arrangement. An entire fortnight had passed since Helene had left her to enjoy her birthday gift in relative privacy. It wouldn’t be long before she’d begin prodding Clare for details.
“Shall I send for tea?” she offered. “I’m sure you must be famished after your journey.”
Handing her wrap off to a footman, Helene gave Clare a pointed look. “Oh, very well, if it will get us to the matter at hand that much faster. Send for the tea, and cakes while you’re at it. Then, you are going to tell me everything.”
Clare couldn’t hold in a laugh as her aunt sauntered past her into the nearest drawing room, where a fire had just been stoked in anticipation of her arrival. She took her time finishing her arrangement and sending for the tea, finding a perverse sense of satisfaction in making Helene dangle a bit.
When, at last, they sat before the fire with filled teacups and a silver tower of various confections between them, Helene leaned forward and made her demands.
“Out with it,” she prodded. “I did not receive any messages from you bemoaning your decision to enjoy my gift. So, I can only assume things have been going well?”
Unable to remain aloof any longer, Clare let her lips split into a wide smile. “Better than well. Edward and I have been getting on famously. You were right about everything. All I needed was to experiment with the right variables.”
Her aunt’s face transformed into a mask of smugness. “I knew Edward had all the proper…variables. I could tell just by looking at him. I’ve always been good at that, you know.”
Clare did know it. While she’d been widowed for decades, Helene had never wanted for male companionship. She’d always been discreet, but Clare was no fool. There had been a number of affairs over the years, all of which had seemed to make her aunt happy enough. Now, she understood why.
“Tell me more, dear,” Helene prodded, setting the tea aside and bracing her chin on one hand like a young girl indulging in juicy gossip.
So, Clare told her everything without delving too deeply into the intimate details. She’d seen Edward almost every evening for the past fortnight and had even spent a few afternoons with him as well. He’d displayed an interest in her work with lilies, so she’d taken him into her conservatory and explained her hybrid experiments to him. She had even guided him through collecting newly cultivated seeds and planting them in their own pots, taking notes on the process in her journal. He’d laid her over an empty space on one of her tables and lifted her skirts afterward, claiming that her use of scientific names and terminology had worked him into quite a state. It had been exhilarating, surrendering to passion while surrounded by the perfume of flowers, the glass ceiling allowing the sun to shine down on them, and the threat of discovery by a passing servant adding a bit of a thrill to it all.
They’d attended the theater one night, and he had escorted her to a dinner party the following evening, which had been nothing more than an excuse for the host to gather with others sharing an interest in botany. Edward had held his own during the affair, listening intently to the discussions on cross-breeding and classification while asking questions without seeming to worry that it showed just how little he knew on the subject. He seemed open to learning about something she loved, which made her like him as more than just a bedmate.
Though, in that regard he proved quite spectacular. After their first few nights together, she had begun to worry that the novelty of it would begin to wear thin. However, he continued to prove her wrong, bringing something new and wonderful to each encounter. She found a freedom in bed with him that she’d never known. He liked her loud laugh, her spectacles, her short hair. He claimed that her bosom wasn’t too small no matter what she said and seemed to think the sight of her naked was the most diverting thing he’d ever seen. That made it easy to come to him without reservation, and with an eagerness to learn all she could about passion and desire.
“So,” Helene said once Clare had finished filling her in. “Does this mean you want to keep him a bit longer than thirty days? The owner of the agency assures me that the contract can be extended for however long you wish.”
