‘Don’t be foolish.’ Alex looked at the spines. ‘Cookery books and notebooks are essential housekeeping equipment.’ He waved aside the assistant waiting to carry the parcel out to the carriage. ‘Now we are going to Bond Street and Madame Francine’s.’
‘Madame—a modiste?’ Tess stopped dead on the pavement. ‘I am not going to help you choose garments for your light of love, my lord!’
‘Foolish,’ he repeated, marching her firmly towards the carriage. ‘Garments for you. Hannah gave me a list, said that she had not finished outfitting you.’
‘She had. I have everything I need.’ She was beholden to him enough.
‘What do you know about it, little nun?’ He waved a folded sheet of paper under her nose.
‘But—’
‘But nothing. Here we are.’ He helped her down, swept her into the shop, deposited her firmly in a chair and proceeded to charm the pantalettes off Madame Francine, as Tess said bitterly to Dorcas later.
She was taken off to a fitting room, measured, clucked over and finally allowed back to where Alex was waiting, perfectly at his ease on a spindly gilt chair, his nose in a copy of La Belle Assemblée.
‘All will be ordered as you desire, my lord.’ Madame Francine glanced at the list. ‘We have taken foot tracings so the shoes will be delivered at the same time.’
Tess knew better than to make a scene in the shop, but she began to protest as soon as they reached the carriage. ‘Alex—my lord—I cannot have you buying me more clothes. It is not at all proper, beside any consideration of the cost.’
‘Do I appear to be poverty stricken? Unable to afford a modest wardrobe for a lady housekeeper?’
‘No, but that is not the point.’
‘Those old crows sent you out into the world dressed like a skivvy. Do you expect me to leave you like that?’
‘You outfitted me as you would have a footman with his livery. That is understandable. And what you gave me was quite sufficient.’
‘Sufficient is a mean, tight, word. You are a pretty young woman, Tess, not a footman. It gives me pleasure to see you dressed nicely. You bring colour to the house.’
She felt the blush burn upwards and with it the anger. ‘Pretty. I see. You expect me to show my gratitude, I suppose? Madame Francine knows you very well, doesn’t she? I suppose that is where you take all your mistresses.’ As soon as she said it she knew she had misjudged him.
‘Yes, I have taken mistresses there before. You think that is how I regard you? You think that of me?’ Alex’s face was an expressionless mask.
‘No. No, I do not. I am sorry, I reacted without thinking. I hate the idea of some sort of financial transaction, but… You want me. I may be inexperienced, but when we fell on the floor of the carriage…’ Her vocabulary failed her.
‘You noticed I was aroused?’
It was possible that a thunderbolt might strike, or the carriage horses bolt or the king pass by in procession. No miracle occurred to save her. Tess jerked up her chin and made herself look Alex in the eye. ‘Yes.’ Yes, I did notice that hard ridge of flesh pressed into my stomach. Yes, I do know what it means and, no, I was not shocked. I was excited. Shamefully, achingly, excited.
‘You may also have noticed that I did nothing about it.’ Now his voice was as colourless as his expression. ‘I would have to be…a completely different kind of man not to be aroused by you. I can ignore this, just as any gentleman can. We are not all the victims of our animal natures like Dorcas’s previous employer.’
‘I know.’ She kept her chin up, even though she wanted to bury her face in the carriage rug. ‘It is on my mind because…’ Because I wish you were not such a gentleman. Impossible to say it. Tess closed her eyes and swallowed. ‘I wonder why you are not married.’
‘I do not intend to marry,’ Alex said, as calmly as if he was stating that he had no intention of visiting Germany.
That snapped her eyes open. ‘You don’t intend to marry? But that’s ridiculous!’
‘So is being quizzed on the subject by a convent-reared gentlewoman in my own carriage.’ There was a definite edge to his voice now and colour up over his cheekbones. If he resembled any of the mythical creatures of Sister Moira’s fairy tales, it was no longer a benevolent one. ‘Why is it ridiculous that I do not intend to marry? Are you of the opinion that everyone should?’
‘Of course not. In my case, for example, it should be obvious that I will not wed.’ One dark brow lifted, but she pressed on. ‘I am a penniless nobody with a living to earn. You are an aristocrat, heir to a title. Surely marriage is expected of you?’
‘Exactly. I do not choose to do the expected.’ There was an unfamiliar, bitter twist to his mouth now.
‘Then, it is simply a self-indulgent whim?’
Alex turned those slanting hazel eyes on her. ‘Throwing brickbats now I have made you uncomfortable, Tess? It is not a whim, it is a deliberate act by someone who is otherwise powerless to avenge a crime.’
His father. Hannah said someone died that Christmas ten years ago. ‘You are depriving your father of the hope of the succession, aren’t you? But you have a brother.’