“In the meantime,” he said, refusing to be drawn, “it might be best to have a heed for what you say. A woman born into this world can utter an outrageous opinion on occasion—hence Angela’s comment about the vote—but until Ellesmere comes up to the mark, you are vulnerable to criticism from every quarter. And so is your sister. If you become defensive, people will sense there is something that needs defending. On the other hand, if you do not rise to Carlotta’s baiting, she will be the one diminished in the eyes of others, not you.”
“The fact that you think the vote for women an outrageous thing does not surprise me, but why should you care how I appear in the eyes of others? It can’t possibly matter to you.”
“Can it not?”
The question was unexpectedly light, almost careless in its utterance, but his eyes, looking into hers, seemed to darken, turning from the clear, pale gray of a glacier to the murky, turbulent hue of thunderclouds. The transformation was so sudden and so intense that Irene’s heart gave another startled thump in her chest.
Everything she’d seen of this man indicated an uncompromising, even ruthless character. He was stiff-necked, old-fashioned, and fastidious beyond bearing. And yet, suddenly, she felt as if she’d just caught a glimpse of something else lurking beneath all that, something completely contrary to everything she knew of him.
He’d swept into her office and into her life two days ago like an arctic storm, seeming the most frigid man she’d ever met, but despite that, strange heat began spreading through her, making her skin prickle and her toes curl in her slippers. He was close enough to her that when she drew in her breath, she could smell the scents of castile soap and bay rum that clung to his skin. She could almost hear his breathing. Time seemed to hang suspended as he filled her senses with a new and different awareness. The awareness of him as a man.
Irene hadn’t much experience with that sort of thing, and it took her wholly by surprise. She’d never been one to be caught up in violent emotions—not until she’d met him, anyway. And in regard to him, those emotions had hardly been pleasant ones, consisting mainly of outrage, frustration, and resentment. She certainly didn’t like him, so what was this strange new feeling that froze her in place and burned her like fire?
He spoke before she could get her bearings, his voice possessed of its usual cool, disinterested cadence, making her aggravated all over again. “It matters because you are in my house, and therefore, in my care. It would grieve me to see you or your sister discomfited or embarrassed, Miss Deverill.”
With that, he looked away, rejoining the conversation going on around them as if he’d been listening to it all along, when she hadn’t heard a single word.
“The boys must come with us, Jamie, or we’ll never hear the end of it. They love sailing.”
“Which is all very well, except that they’ve no nanny now. As I recall, a certain person at this table promised to call in at Merrick’s Employment Agency and find them a new one, one capable of managing them, yet two days have passed, and we have seen no sign of this august personage.”
Torquil made a sound of vexation. “Blast it, I utterly forgot about the nanny. I’ll go tomorrow.”
“Why don’t you go, Jamie?” Sarah said. “They are your boys, after all.”
“Yes, but my lack of success with choosing nannies speaks for itself.”
“That’s only because you always choose the pretty, wholly inefficient ones,” Angela said. “Mama and I shall go, for I should dearly love something satisfying to do, and finding Jamie a qualified nanny would satisfy me enormously. My nephews,” she added to Irene, “are absolute hellions.”
“No, Angela.” Torquil overrode her. “I will go, because I promised I would. If you truly yearn for satisfying things to do, however, there are dozens of charities I can recommend that are in dire need of assistance. Would starting your own charity for those less fortunate be satisfying enough for you?”
“It might do,” the girl agreed eagerly. “Could I really run my own charity instead of just help Mama with all of hers?”
“Why shouldn’t you, if Mama doesn’t object?”
The duchess waved a hand airily. “Not at all. I think it a most excellent idea.”
“No shirking, though,” the duke said, “once you’ve taken it on. Perhaps,” he added, glancing at Irene, “you might ask Miss Clara to assist you?”
Irene looked at her sister, watching Clara’s face light up at the prospect.
“Oh, could I?” she asked. “Unless you need me at the paper, Irene?”
“I can manage. I may have to be there nearly every day, but you certainly don’t.”
“My goodness, Miss Deverill,” Lady David said, “you are very much the workhorse.”
Irene supposed that was an insult to her femininity, but with a glance at her sister, she remained silent. As Torquil had said, there was little point in talking about it now. “I soldier on, Lady David,” she said, pasting on a smile.
“That’s very brave of you, Miss Deverill,” Sarah put in, her approval perhaps a bit forced. “I couldn’t do it.”
“Good thing,” Torquil muttered.
Sarah did not seem to hear. “It will be exhausting, I warn you, Miss Deverill, to work at your paper and do the season, too. Even though we’re coming to the end, there are still many events to attend. I can’t imagine how you’ll manage.”
“I’m sure I shall find adequate time for sleep.”
“I doubt it,” Carlotta said, overriding her young sister-in-law’s attempt to smooth things over. “We are often out past dawn. How shall you participate? Shall you go straight from the ballroom to the newsroom to lunch at Rules?” She gave a laugh and turned to the duke before Irene could reply. “It’s absurd. No one could manage such a schedule. You agree with me, Torquil, of course?”
