“Yes, please tell me, Genie,” Sinclair mocked, a light in his eyes she found discomforting.
“Very well. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Eugenie settled herself, gazing out over the green pastures. “Long ago there was a bereavement in a wealthy family. As was proper, the coffin with its sad occupant was returned to the house and placed in the parlor on the night before the burial was to take place. The family retired for the night, but they’d hardly begun to sleep when they were woken by a terrible wailing from the parlor. When one of them crept downstairs to investigate they saw a white shapeless form. Terrified, they remained upstairs, huddled together, awaiting the morning and convinced that their departed loved one was taking some sort of revenge from beyond the veil. When the dawn finally came they ventured downstairs, armed with all manner of weapons to protect themselves against the physical and the spiritual, only to discover they had been burgled. The so-called ghost had in fact been a thief, keeping them upstairs, while his accomplices went about the business of robbing them.”
When the story finished there was a silence, and Jack—who normally laughed along with his father—glanced uncertainly from one to the other. “Don’t you think that was a good trick, Somerton?”
“I think the family must have felt very sad, Jack. First they lost their loved one, and then they lost their precious possessions. I wonder how you would feel if it happened to you.”
Jack shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t have many precious possessions,” he said at last. “Only my mouse and the magpie with the broken wing, but he’s nearly well now.” He glanced over toward the stables and his face brightened. “Can I go and look at the horses?”
Sinclair touched his shoulder. “Of course you can.”
Jack set off, soon breaking into a run, and Eugenie wondered whether he was eager to get to the stables or eager to escape the dawning realization that his father wasn’t Sir Perfect.
She turned to Sinclair, perhaps to excuse her brother’s naivety, or her father’s disreputable sense of humor, but before she could speak he put a hand to her cheek, brushing away the rebellious curl.
“You worry about Jack, don’t you?”
She knew she should step away and tell him not to touch her, but after what they had done last night it would have seemed disingenuous. “Yes. I think Jack’s a good boy but I don’t know that I can always nudge him in the right direction.”
“If he comes to Somerton I will keep an eye on him,” Sinclair said gently. He bent and brushed his lips against her skin, his arm slipping about her slender waist and drawing her against his side.
“You must stop this,” Eugenie said, but she closed her eyes, unable to help losing herself in the pleasure.
She’d found it difficult to sleep last night. The memory of being held in the duke’s arms, of the temptation that he represented, kept her tossing and turning until almost dawn, her body aching for his touch.
She knew it was her own fault for staying but still she was inclined to blame him for leading her astray. And as she knew only too well, Sinclair did not have marriage to her on his mind.
“You are deep in thought.”
His intimate tones brought her back to the present.
Sinclair was watching her with an intensity that made her nervous. “You have a frown,” he said, reaching with the tip of his finger to smooth the crease from her brow. “Something is making you unsettled. What is it?”
“Household matters.” She dismissed it with a shake of her head.
“Tell me,” he demanded.
Eugenie affected a laugh. “Oh Sinclair, I’m sure you don’t want to hear about the twins’ misdemeanors and our servant woes and the fact that we have no money to pay the butcher.” It was meant to sound lighthearted but her annoyance colored the words so that they came out with a sting to them.
“And I don’t have to remind you that I can solve all those concerns.”
“Oh? With a wave of your magic wand?” she retorted, but again it wasn’t humor she heard in her voice but something almost waspish.
“If you accept my offer then you will be able to leave all your worries behind you.”
Eugenie gave him a sharp look and there was a burn of temper in her cheeks. “What a pleasant opinion you must have of me, Your Grace. So you imagine I could ride off with you into some cozy nook, and leave my family to struggle on without me?”
In contrast to hers, his voice remained calm. “If you wish to help your family out of their financial troubles, if their current situation would interfere with your own desires, then I will see to it.”
See to it? As if it were something so minor it was barely worth mentioning. Her family and her reputation and her future happiness! Well, if he thought she was going to allow him to solve all her woes with a stroke of his pen, then he was badly mistaken. Did he imagine she had no pride?
“Don’t you think that sounds like asking them to sell their daughter for their own benefit? I’ve heard such things happen in the slums of London, but not in rural Gloucestershire. Besides, surely it is against the law?”
His lip curled in that way she loathed. Eugenie clenched her hands into fists.
“You are being overly emotional. This is a practical solution where all parties benefit.”