“Then who were you with? Have you gambled the earldom away?”
“If I could have done, I would. But no.” That wasn’t entirely true, though. He’d had six months to become accustomed to being addressed as “my lord.” He suspected he’d miss it now. He’d been treading water, learning his new role, reading family papers, and he would have to move on. “We’ll go into the country in the summer, and survey the houses.”
“Oh!” Delphi shook her head. “I have salons planned, meetings, and I want to write—” She broke off abruptly, and her cheeks reddened.
Before Gerald could question her response, Damaris broke in. “Don’t change the subject, Gerald. You have definitely come from a woman’s bed.”
“Have you ever wondered how reprehensible you sound, Damaris? I’m sure such prurience isn’t accepted in society.” His defense was weak, but he needed to do something.
Nobody had to know about Annie, even his sisters. The memory of touching Annie’s sweet body, the joy of being inside her and watching her joyful culmination broke in like a sunny day. He looked away hastily before he betrayed himself. After munching a mouthful of food that tasted like ashes, he sipped the tea Damaris had poured for him. “We should make a list of what you need for your come-out. The duchess will sponsor you.”
“We had a visit from Lady Comyn,” Dorcas said. “She is apparently some kind of cousin, although I’ve never been aware of the fact before, and she offered to sponsor our appearance at court. I naturally told her about the duchess, and it appears they have a feud.”
“Dear God,” he murmured. “So Lady Comyn wants to poke the duchess in the eye, does she?”
“I’d like to see that,” Damaris said. “Perhaps we can provoke them to do it.”
He brushed through the rest of the meal, until he could breathe freely again. That was until the butler came in to tell him Lady Elizabeth was waiting in the morning parlor.
“Alone?”
“Indeed, sir.”
Glancing at his sisters, he got to his feet. “Don’t let me remain alone with her for more than twenty minutes.”
“What do we get if we do that? Will you tell us the truth about last night?” Damaris twirled her knife and winked at him.
”No.” He would deal with her by himself. After all, they were all but betrothed, so spending time alone with her could hardly do any more damage.
Guilt hit him when he entered the parlor. Elizabeth was lovely. She deserved better than him, a man whose mind was set on someone else. She was standing by the window, gazing at the garden. She’d removed her outer clothing, appearing like a woman already belonging in the house.
Her blue eyes gleamed with propriety as she came forward, hands outstretched. As if acting under command, he took her hands and lifted one to his lips. Her skin was cool and perfectly smooth, the nails immaculately manicured. “My dear,” she said softly. “Mama is returning shortly, but I begged her to leave me here to see you.”
Short of shaking her hands free, he could not release her. “Is there something wrong?”
“No.” She bit her lip. Despite his efforts to the contrary, he could not help comparing Elizabeth to Annie. Annie’s hands were work worn, the nails clipped practically short. They weren’t perfectly soft, but the slight abrasion did wonders to his body. Her hair, longer than Elizabeth’s, dark where Elizabeth was fair, gleamed red when the sun hit it. Or candlelight, at it had last night, when it had streamed around her like a living river of fire.
Dear God, did everything have to remind him of Annie? Would he spend his married life thinking of the woman, comparing her to others and finding them coming short?
Elizabeth was elegantly tall, reaching his shoulder. Annie was shorter, but packed with life. Every inch of her mattered. Elizabeth was languid.
“There is nothing wrong. Except that—that I cannot bear the thought of going through the whole season without you. Can we not be married soon?”
Gerald stilled, shocked into awareness. “Why, whatever is the cause of your distress, Elizabeth?”
Snatching her hands from his, she covered her mouth, as if to stop herself saying something reprehensible. “I-I beg your pardon.” He studied her warily. It was not unknown for women to trap men by being “caught” in a compromising position. Perhaps he should take a step back.
“Dear me,” he murmured, and crossed to the door. Opening it, he ensured it would not close. “For respectability,” he said. “Do not concern yourself, Elizabeth, there is nobody close. Whatever is the matter?” The least he could do was offer her refreshment. “Would you like tea?” He touched the hand bell, but she responded before he lifted it.
“No, don’t! I do not want anything but you.”