“Good.”
Lyle cleared his throat. “It has been a highlight of my visits with you.” He darted a look at Gregory, and tried to ease the self-imposed tension. “Of course, I come for business, but what is life if only about business. Those of us immersed in business must mix business with pleasure or there would never be time for pleasure.”
“Agreed.” Gregory wasn’t sure what the devil Lyle was yammering on about, business and pleasure, and he certainly was least prepared for the direction the conversation now took.
“About Lady Edwards.”
Gregory couldn’t still his right brow from rising.
“She has no brothers, correct.”
Gregory nodded. Something like indigestion was starting in his belly. More whiskey was sure to solve that.
Lyle was picking up momentum, “And her mother and father are currently somewhere in Africa, no?”
Gregory nodded again feeling his indigestion increasing.
“Who would be the appropriate party to engage in discussing my desire to call on her? I thought mayhap it would be you.”
Gregory’s indigestion was not indigestion. He didn’t care to consider what it was. Rage was a good enough label.
He didn’t want to marry the chit. He would never think in a thousand years, despite the disparaging comment, to make her his mistress. And she was Mary.
He corralled his thoughts, “Yes, of course. I will discuss this with her.” Like hell he would. “Now I must be off to an appointment.” To ride like the devil in an attempt to evade this madness.
“By jove’s beard, what the devil was that about, Mary?” Contrary to the crassness of the verbiage leaking out of Margaret’s mouth, she laughed. The two women had learned some potent lingo following Gregory and Jonathan unawares in their youth which at times lightened their moods.
Mary was pacing the guest room she stayed in when Margaret found her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The devil you don’t.” Margaret tried again.
Mary took on the role of puritan, “I will not abide your vulgar language. Should you like to discuss with me, then please consider the outspringings of your mouth.”
“Hell and the devil confound it.” In response to Mary’s role, Margaret probed her.
To the untrained eye, Mary was merely pacing. To those that knew her, she was rampaging. How dare that odious man touch her like that? By Jupiter, did he think he owned her? How could she give herself to him? She was clinging to the inadequate relief of knowing she hadn’t fully given herself to him.
She hadn’t had a chance to discuss any thoughts with Gregory since their latest tryst, and she was more addled than ever. She knew she didn’t expect an offer of marriage, but for him to take such liberties with her? And then to say he had no intention of marrying her? And so explicitly? Why did that hurt?
She had opened up Pandora’s box by allowing Gregory’s touch to incite such passion and desire within her. It abounded out of her, there was no stopping the desire now. She closed her eyes and she could see his smoldering eyes. She laid down to sleep and felt his warm chest against her bare breasts. How the devil had he crawled under her skin? Again. Odious, odious man.
She must keep reminding herself of his unforgivable deeds and his unpardonable vision for his future. He wanted a biddable wife. A docile, placating, picky plate setting, heir-producing, wife.
She wanted love. Later.
Yes, she could admit it to herself now. She wanted love. Gregory was incapable of love. He wanted distance, not closeness. He wanted power not a partnership.
And regardless of love, she needed to regain focus on her play. That was her top priority right now.
But when Margaret came in mirroring Gregory’s impropriety, Mary lost it on her best friend.
“Has everyone gone daft? Where is honor? Where is propriety?”
Margaret chuckled.
“I’m serious Margaret. Those values hold society together. They may not always be convenient or pleasurable, but they certainly save us from many more nefarious doings. They protect us.”
