Hunting the Hero (The Wild Randalls 4)
“Such a gentleman.”
“I try to be.” He kissed her hand again. “I’m not saying it will be easy. I’ve no doubt it shall be hard to forget sharing your bed. But I’m willing to ignore your allure if you can do the same for mine.”
Her hand wrenched free from his as she faced him. “Why do you want me here if not to take me to bed?”
Constantine leaned back against the chair. “I can’t be certain but I think I may like your company. You’re a bright spark of light I run to catch. Arabella sees the good in you, too. She would never have brought you here to meet my children if she thought you in any way inappropriate. She was my wife’s best friend.”
“You don’t like to speak of her.”
He smiled. “It’s hard to admit I’ve not set aside the memory of my first love when I have a woman writhing naked on my lap. When would have been the right time to mention I had trouble sleeping at night for missing her?”
An unladylike grunt left Calista?
??s mouth and then she scowled. “You sleep soundly enough most nights.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “You may take credit for all of that if it pleases you. If it eases your pride somewhat, my spirits have been quite low since we parted company.”
She could take credit for the immediate improvement and a whole lot more but he wouldn’t mention the changes she’d brought to his life already. Just seeing her again was enough.
Calista scowled. “You look terribly healthy to me.”
He caught her hands again. “I’m not. I truly am miserable. It’s just the unexpected surprise of seeing you again and here that has improved my spirits. If it helps, I can pretend to be unwell. Would you be my nursemaid and visit my sickbed?”
“I see that you lie very well, too. You told me you did not opportune the women in your employ. I was wrong about you.”
“Ah, but you haven’t said yes yet, and I’ve fallen into our old habit of teasing each other. I’ve always enjoyed our little battles of words and you are a hard woman to deny. Almost irresistible.” He had meant that he would keep her at a distance, but he was simply too overwhelmed with relief at seeing her again to behave appropriately. “I would keep my word if you were to stay. I promise.”
Although her gaze was skeptical, the arrival of his children halted their conversation. Arabella carried Poppy toward Calista and stopped before her. “This is Grayling’s youngest, Lady Poppy Hunt.” She gestured to each of the girls. “Lady Willow and Lady Maisy Hunt. The sweetest girls you could ever hope to meet.”
To Constantine’s surprise, Poppy leaned toward Calista and attempted to catch her glasses in her chubby little fists. Surprisingly, Calista merely moved her head back, slipped her glasses off and into her reticule, and took the child. She turned Poppy to face the room. An effective way to avoid similar incidents, one that had taken some time for him to discover and implement.
Calista brushed her chin against the baby’s hair. “They have such lovely names.”
Seeing Calista with his youngest daughter in her arms settled his anxiety. She appeared confident enough to hold a young child. How she would handle the other two remained to be seen. “My wife chose their names. She was very fond of flowers and shrubs.”
Calista smiled ruefully, her eyes growing distant. “I know what that can be like. At least she didn’t name your girls after vegetables. Wouldn’t it be terrible to be named Lady Spinach Hunt?”
An involuntary giggle left Willow’s mouth, but before he caught a glimpse of her face, all amusement vanished.
Arabella smiled serenely. “So that settles it then. I must take my leave to pack for my sojourn in London. Miss Clark will return tomorrow to begin her duties?”
Calista quickly handed the baby to him while he gaped. He wasn’t ready to let Calista go yet. She’d only just arrived. “She’s not staying?”
Arabella’s smile grew rather devious. “Oh, no. Miss Clark has promised to dine with me this evening. There is so much information I must share with her about you before we part company. You may expect your new governess at nine o’clock tomorrow.”
CHAPTER 11
“WELL, I MUST say that all went remarkably well,” Lady Farnsworth confided as the carriage rattled along the road to her neat little manor house, if a thirty-six room country home could be considered small.
Meredith was not inclined to speak to her just yet. She felt rather foolish for how she had reacted to Grayling and the sparkle lighting up the lady’s eyes hinted she was well aware of her lack of indifference to the man. The fact that Meredith had been eager to see Grayling again was not in dispute. What troubled her most was the way she had lapped up his gorgeous warmth like an eager puppy.
If they had been alone much longer she might have climbed onto his lap and curled contentedly into his strong arms. Leaving quickly had been imperative if she wished to avoid appearing foolishly sentimental. Tomorrow she would be the invisible governess and not needed for anything else. Meredith folded her arms over her chest. Grayling would regret that decision.
“There is so much yet to do,” Lady Farnsworth said. “I wish Farnsworth hadn’t written. I hate London in the winter. Constantine is stubborn. Augusta often complained that he’d cut off his own arm rather than ask for help. He will take time to understand what you want. I expect him to make many mistakes. I’m just sorry I won’t be here to smooth things over should you quarrel again.”
“We did no such thing.” Meredith glanced sideways at Lady Farnsworth. “But with friends like you to do his bidding, I’m sure he doesn’t need to learn the skills necessary for greater understanding.”
Instead of taking offense, Lady Farnsworth merely laughed. “Nonsense. All men should learn how to better appease the women in their life. It’s their duty, in my humble opinion, to see we are happy. So many gentlemen fail.”