Tempting Mr. Townsend (Dashing Widows 2)

"No. Like you, I'd rather he was here and content. At least for the moment. He's had enough sadness in his young life."

"I'm so glad."

Her approval made him happier than he'd felt when he'd banked his first thousand pounds. "Penny's right. Now I've got the lad, things need to change. Perhaps I'll retire and become a lazy country squire who rides to hounds all day and drinks half the night."

She released a short laugh. "Not you. You'll set to modernizing the house. Then the gardens. Then the estate. Your poor tenants won't get a moment's peace without you pounding on their doors, forcing new roofs and the latest plumbing upon them."

Anthony responded with a huff of amusement. "I've got a powerful fear of boredom, Lady Deerham."

"Are you seriously thinking of moving to the country?"

"Aye. I can run my business from here if need be—London is in easy reach, as we proved last night. That's one of the reasons I bought this house—it's close to Southampton and Portsmouth, too. I just didn't imagine I'd move in until it was up to scratch."

"It merely needs a little work."

"More than a little. And I don't fancy living here with the builders in."

After stewing over his nephew's welfare for months, it was satisfying to share his thoughts and plans with a sensible, warmhearted woman. The sort of conversation one would have with a wife.

Fenella would make a damned fine wife. If some chap could persuade her to look beyond her first husband.

She shrugged. "Everyone says you're as rich as Croesus. You could travel, or rent somewhere else, or go back to London."

"And Carey?"

"He could go with you." She paused. "Or stay with me, wherever Brand and I end up. Right now, I have no idea where that will be."

"You're brave to the point of recklessness to offer to take him on."

She made a dismissive murmur. "Brand would like it."

"So would Carey, but I don't want to saddle you with my family problems. Carey's already caused a world of trouble. You must curse the name Townsend."

An enigmatic smile hovered around her full, pink mouth. Her full, pink, kissable mouth. "I certainly cursed it when a great bear of a man ripped his way into my drawing room and howled abuse."

Heat prickled his cheeks. "I haven't apologized adequately. My behavior was unforgivable."

The smile deepened without really taking hold. "You've grown on me since then."

"Like mold on cheese," he said gloomily, setting his empty glass on the spindly table at his elbow.

She laughed, as he'd intended. "More like ivy on a wall."

It was his turn to laugh. "So will you let Brand stay here until you decide his future?"

She frowned. "I'm…I'm not sure that's a good idea."

He jerked as if she'd struck him. She'd have hurt him less if she had. He should have expected this—after all, hadn't the differences between them been as plain as a bloody pikestaff from the start? Even so, his voice was humiliatingly rough when he spoke. "I'm sorry, my lady. I presumed where I had no right."

Astonishment widened her eyes. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"There's no need to put your objections into words."

"There jolly well is. What do you think I mean?"

The moment he began his awkward explanation, he realized he'd jumped to unwarranted conclusions. His uncharacteristic sensitivity was another sign of how important she was becoming. "Carey is a working man's son, whereas Brandon's blood is bluer than your bonny eyes."

He'd glimpsed her anger before. Now it blazed like fire, fixing him in his chair as she rose, a tiny, gorgeous bundle of blistering fury. "I resent that. Carey is a fine boy, and I'm overjoyed Brandon has found a friend who is loyal, true and brave. Carey risked a lot to see Mrs. Penn, perhaps for the last time. Yet still he did it. If that's an example of a working man's son, the country needs more of them." Her tone turned freezing. "I have my doubts about Carey's uncle, however."