The duke cleared his throat. “And who would this little boy be, Edmund?” “Me, Papa, me.”
“I thought as much. I trust you would then have her eating only excellent meals.”
“Yes. I’d ask Mrs. Dent to make her food. Then she wouldn’t have to go back to the Bastille. She is a very sweet little girl, and I don’t want any harm to come to her.”
The duke wanted to grab up his son and squeeze him until he squeaked. It sometimes astonished him that this splendid child had come from his loins. He was a lucky man to be blessed with such a child. He felt a sudden tightening in his throat. He could clearly hear his father telling him that there was no better a son than he was. He closed his eyes a moment. He cleared his throat again. “Excuse me, Evangeline, but Edmund’s grandmama is expecting him downstairs. Instead of a bad stepmother making him vile biscuits, I believe Cook’s made him lemon tarts, his favorite.”
“Really sour lemon tarts, Papa, that make your mouth all curled up?” “Those are the ones,” the duke said. “May I, Eve?”
“Since you’ve contrived to look like a starving child, I have no choice but to send you on your way. Perhaps this evening you can tell me more about the little girl the boy rescues from the Bastille.”
“I will think about that,” Edmund said, gave her a kiss as natural as could be, and ran out of the nursery.
She smiled up at the duke. “It’s late. I let the time get away from me. Thank you for rescuing him.”
“Actually, I’m quite pleased and relieved that you didn’t bound after him.”
“I’m not particularly fond of lemon tarts.” “No, you would have bounded with him to avoid being alone with his papa.”
That chin of hers went up. “I told you I wasn’t afraid of you.”
“No, you’re afraid of yourself, and you’re afraid for me, which makes no sense at all, and you’re afraid of what you want to do when I’m close to you.”
That was more than true enough, she thought, and said, a bucketful of scorn in her voice, “Your conceit is showing, your grace.”
“Don’t look so wary. I’m keeping my distance. I’m going to be strong about this. It would be the height of foolishness for me to touch you as I did yesterday. This time we just might end up naked in front of the fire. Any of a good dozen people could walk in on us.” Her eyes dilated. She looked both wary and excited. It was an aphrodisiac, the way she was looking at him, heady and nearly impossible to resist. He took two steps back from her. Then he saw the dark smudges beneath her eyes. She had lost flesh, as his mother had said. She looked thin, tightly drawn. His worry for her made his voice unnaturally harsh. “I’ve come to settle things, Evangeline.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, but she did and she had no idea what she would say. Did he want her to become his mistress? After all, she’d been married before and—
“How long have you been Edmund’s governes
s?”
Her head snapped back on her neck, she was so surprised. “Ah, give me a moment, your grace.” She blinked down at her fingernails. She had to remember that he was a man of vast charm and equally vast experience. He wanted her, but it didn’t mean much more than that to him. She sighed, then forced a smile. That’s not what I am. I’m much more a nanny than governess. That makes me sound very well educated. Perhaps I’m more a companion to Edmund, one who knows a bit about this and that, but little else. In short, a nanny, simply a nanny.”
“You’re making me angry, Evangeline. You will stop belittling yourself. Now, I see that you will continue to quibble. In any case, according to my calculations, you’ve been responsible for Edmund nearly two months now. You haven’t yet been paid for your services.”
Her services? “I don’t understand, your grace. Not only have you given me all of Marissa’s gowns, you’ve also treated me like an honored guest. It’s far more than I deserve.”
He ignored her. “I wish to recompense you for all your labors.” He pulled a note from his waistcoat pocket. “I hope you will consider fifty pounds a fair amount for your services to date.”
Evangeline rose slowly to her feet, so stunned by what he’d said to think of a single word to say back to him. Pay her for her services? She said, her voice raw and deep, “How could you offer to pay me as you would one of your servants? Damn you, I don’t want any of your money.”
His fingers were itching to close around her white throat, and so for the next few moments he made a project of shaking out the ruffles over his wrists. She was flushed scarlet to her hairline. Why? It made no sense to him. “Of course you aren’t one of my damned servants.” He looked at her white throat, then lower to her heaving breasts, and said coolly, “The fifty pounds, as I have told you, is for your services to date, for your instruction and companionship to my son. You will accept it, graciously, if possible, in the spirit in which it’s offered.”
She gazed at him bleakly, beyond anger at him. He didn’t even realize what he was doing to her. She said, “I don’t want your money.” She rose slowly to her feet, the mantel at her back. “Why are you doing this? To make me come to understand what it is that you want of me? Dammit, is that what you pay your bloody mistresses?”
She surely sent his boat right over the waterfall with that insult. That’s what she thought of him? He was just a womanizer, all he wanted was her body? Yes, he wanted her, particularly her white throat between his hands. “Hardly, Madame. I pay my mistresses for their beauty, charm, and skill. In my company you have shown only the first of my three requirements, and perhaps just a dollop of the second. Let me make myself even clearer, Madame, for I can see that you’re itching to yell at me for some further supposed slight. You will take the fifty pounds, or I swear to you, Evangeline, I will bare your bottom and thrash you.” She took a step toward him, waving her fist at him. “So I have beauty and just a bit of charm, do I? I notice you don’t require a brain in your mistresses. Isn’t that just like a man. Your mistresses swoon and coo over you, and you’re pleased well enough, is that right?”
He watched her, fascinated. “Perhaps,” he said. “There’s something else, though. You forgot any mention of skill. That comes after the swooning and the cooing. Even with your marriage to the divine departed André, you didn’t seem to glean a great deal of anything from that experience. André was a dolt, Madame, and you were obviously just too stupid to realize it. In short, I’m dealing with a blockhead.”
She was looking around wildly for anything to throw at him. The book of engravings. She bent down, grabbed up the book, and hurled it at him. He caught it handily. “This belonged to my grandmother. I would ask that you take care with my belongings.”
“I’m not one of your servants. You aren’t my lord and master. You can’t give me orders. I’m sorry about your grandmother’s book. I shan’t do that again.”
“I can try to give you orders, not that it appears to gain me much at all.”
“You make me feel like I’m banging my head against the wall. Listen to me, your grace. You will take your insults and your precious money, and go to the devil.”