Page 80 of Lord Ashley's Beautiful Alibi
“No, ma’am.”
“Ashley does not worry about this lack?” she bit off.
“No. He trusts his friend.”
Her aunt sniffed. “Vaillancourt has not been a happy man since you disappeared.”
“How so?” Gus asked, but marveled that her own fear of the man was not what it had been. Was that because Kane’s continued presence in her life—and now his proposal of marriage—offered her safety?
Her aunt turned around. “Word is Vaillancourt sent out men to find you both.”
Gus did not tell her aunt about the appearance or fate of Carrot Nose. Kane and she had discussed the matter on their way home and had decided, for Gus’s sake, that neither would tell anyone about the man’s sojourn in Varennes. “Clearly, they failed.”
“Vaillancourt will be angry about that too. But once he hears you are to wed Ashley, he will announce his displeasure for all to mourn with him. It will not be pretty.”
Gus arched a brow. “Such a pity for him.”
Her green eyes pinned Gus in place. “Tomorrow night Madame Lery gives a ball and dinner. We will announce your wedding there. The ceremony must not occur in secret. That would make many matters worse.”
“Announce it yourself, Aunt. Let the court buzz about it. I care not. I doubt Kane would crave an announcement.”
“If your marriage is made public, Vaillancourt will not seek to trouble you more. He is so angry that Amber disappeared, but he has always thought he could threaten you to bring her forth.”
“Now he has failed.” Gus credited Kane with the foresight of that.
Not for desire alone had Kane offered to marry her. Not for lust alone did she want him as her husband.
Gus left with haste. She was done discussing Vaillancourt and his ambitions.
In her bath, she focused her mind on more seductive thoughts. A tub. Hot water. Bubbles. Soap. Shampoo and Kane.She sank to the warm water and submerged herself entirely, hair, face, nose. But he filled her thoughts.
For three days in that blasted carriage, she had tried to avoid conversation with Kane by knitting.
He had mentioned her poor skills again.
“Have you ever tried to knit?” She’d flung her ugly, misshapen project to the squabs.
“Perhaps you could teach me.”
She closed one eye to threaten him with extinction.
“Or I could tell you tales of my childhood?”
“Do,” she urged. “Why will you have no bastards? Men do. You are an earl. Is it not a mark of pride to sprinkle yourself everywhere?”
“I do not sprinkle. Well you know it.”
She’d blushed with a violent heat as he told her his aversion to having illegitimate children was due to his father’s penchant for not caring where he spread his personal benefits. His older brother had sired two illegitimate children whom Kane now supported from estate income.
Again he affirmed his dedication to legitimacy. “I will support children who have my name.”
“And no mistresses?”
“None.” His gaze had absorbed her like sunshine after rain. “Ever.”
She had picked up her poor knitting, satisfied in one regard. She did not need any further clarifications of his reasons for failure to finish during intercourse.
More was the pity for her continuing appraisal of his marvelous person. That she could not stop. That he often caught her at, too. Damn her delight in his masculine appeal.
