“That is what I find so fascinating, my dear.”
My dear! She gave him what she believed to be a most seductive smile. To her utter chagrin, he laughed, a deep, booming laugh.
“I hate you!” she muttered, feeling a perfect fool.
“Love . . . hate, they are two sides to the coin, are they not?”
“Yes,” she said, her eyes narrowed on his face, “they are.”
“Tell me,” he said abruptly, his tone utterly serious, “about your childhood in England.”
She felt herself relaxing against the fat pillow. Here, at least, was safe ground. “I am an only child. My mother died in childbed when I was ten. I took care of my father until he . . . died.”
“What about your Aunt Gussie?”
She tried to keep the rush of fear to herself. God, what had she said? “She is a terror.”
“And Owen?”
“He is a toad, and her son.”
“Ah, then who is the prig?”
“His name was Sir Guy Danforth. I had thought at one time that I would marry him. He and his mother lived near us in Surrey. I broke our engagement after my father died.”
“Because he left you penniless?”
She stared at him, her hands fisting beneath the covers in an efort to keep herself calm. “It seems, sir, that you already know everything about me.”
“No, just rambling bits and pieces. I have the impression, though, that this past year has been a trial for you.”
“Yes.”
“Were you by any chance in London in fifty-one?”
“No, I was at home, in Surrey.”
“It is unfortunate. I was visiting relatives at the time, but unfortunately I didn’t see much of your country. I did meet many very interesting people, though, in London.”
I’ll just bet you did! “You mentioned that your sister-in-law is English?”
Delaney leaned his head back, but he regarded her intently beneath his lashes. “Yes. I was the guest of her mother and stepfather, Aurora and Damien Arlington. The Duke and Duchess of Graffton.”
Chauncey felt a rush of fury. So they were the ones who sucked in her father! The ones who had refused to help him recover his money. And they were rich, damn them, very rich! “I do not know them,” she said dully.
“Then why do their names upset you so?”
“Their names do not upset me,” she said with perfect honesty.
“I repeat, Miss Jameson, you are an enigma.” He rose and walked to the side table. She watched him pour water into a glass and add a bit of laudanum.
“I don’t want that.”
“I don’t care at the moment what you want or don’t want. Y
ou will drink it.”
“I do not take orders from anyone,” she said, cold fury lacing her voice.