Page 37 of The Earl Takes All
“All your creatures represent someone.”
She took another bite of chicken, forced herself to eat peas for the baby’s sake. “Really?”
He gave her a knowing look. “The badger is Ashe. Determined. Stubborn. The weasel is Edward, always striving to get out of his duties, to get away with something.”
She opened her mouth to protest, closed it. “That was the first one I did, right after you left. I suppose I was a bit cross with him for taking you away. I should tear that one up.”
“Nonsense. It would have pleased my brother inordinately to see how you portrayed him.”
“It just seems rather petty now.”
“Creativity often mimics life. He’d applaud your efforts.”
She wasn’t quite certain he’d appreciate them as much as Albert implied. “Which one is you?” she challenged.
“You’re the fox,” he said. “Clever.” He arched a brow. “Quite pretty. Although the color is wrong.”
“But foxes are red.”
“Not all of them. Once I saw a black fox out over the moors at Havisham. They’re rare, which suits you even better, for you are a rare find.”
She felt her cheeks warm. It had been so long since he’d flirted with her. She rather felt like a young girl again, innocent and waiting breathlessly for her first dance. How was she to have known then that her first dance would be with him and would lead her into his arms forever? “I’ve never heard of a black fox.”
“Then you’ll have to take my word for it.”
“I rather liked pretending my hair was red.”
“I like your hair just as it is. It brings out the blue of your eyes.”
“I always thought it rather boring.”
“Nothing about you is boring.”
She angled her head, narrowed her eyes. “Are you courting me, my lord Greyling?”
He scoffed. “A man does not court his wife.”
“Then you’re avoiding answering my question. Which of the animals represents you?”
Taking a deep breath, he tapped his blunt-tipped finger against the bowl of his wine glass, seemed to consider. “Not the rat. At first I thought he was Edward, rummaging around in the rubbish, but then I caught sight of the weasel with his little beady eyes.”
“You don’t know which is you,” she announced, somewhat surprised that he couldn’t see it.
“The horse. Noble. Strong. Can be depended upon. Not much for laughing, but it won’t let you down.”
“Only yours did tonight.”
He shook his head. “My fault there. I was riding him too hard, trying to get home. Snow was beginning to cover the ground. I’m lucky he didn’t step into a hole and break a leg.”
“You probably should have taken shelter somewhere for the night.”
“I didn’t want you worrying.” He swallowed what remained of his wine as though he wasn’t quite comfortable with that admission. Odd. He’d never had difficulty expressing his feelings, but then the past few weeks he’d been put through an entire gamut of emotions.
Every time she thought she knew exactly what to expect from him, she discovered she knew nothing at all.
Theyfinished dinner and retired to the library. As she sat near the fire and read a book, Edward lounged back in a chair opposite hers, his finger tapping his glass of port. She’d seemed surprised that he’d been able to discern whom the animals in her drawings represented. He would have preferred being a squirrel, something lively and fun. Or even a promiscuous rabbit. But then weasels were known for stealing things, and he’d stolen a kiss from her, stolen away her husband. Was stealing these moments with her now.
He should have made an excuse. He needed to work, go over his ledgers, study his accounts. Instead he was sitting here enjoying the slope of her neck as she bent her head to read, enjoyed the fact that she still wore that damned smug smile.
