“The Merchant of Venice,Act Three, Scene One,” he provided, absurdly glad, for a man pursuing a woman simply to save his company, that he could tell her the play, the act, and the scene.
She gave him an amazed look. “You must have loved Elizabeth greatly to have committed Shakespeare to memory the way you have. It’s astonishing how much of it you now know.”
That had been a foolish, prideful lie he had thrust between them. He’d done it to protect himself. He understood that. To learn what he needed to about her feelings, though, he was going to have to let down his guard ever so slightly. “I learned his works, in truth, because I became fascinated with them after ye introduced me to them.”
Her eyebrows shot high, and her lips parted. For a moment, they were silent, and then she said, “Elizabeth did not love Shakespeare?”
“I do not believe so,” he replied, revealing as much as he was willing to in this moment about his relationship with his conniving deceased wife.
“Why did you lie?” she asked, her gaze locked with his.
God, he felt exposed. It reminded him of how he’d felt when other children had teased him about being a bastard.Unworthy. Less than. He’d also felt that way when his father had shoved him into this thorny Society and demanded he perform like a puppet. He’d rebelled, wanting to show he was man enough to make his own sound decisions, and it had gotten him an unwanted marriage and wife.
He’d shown enough. It was the lass’s turn to enlighten him, so he did the thing he detested most in others: he prevaricated. “Why were ye in the tree?”
“I was notinthe tree.”
Clever lass. She was correct. Her avoidance should anger him, but damn it if it didn’t make him want to grin, but he wouldn’t. She didn’t need to know she held any power over him. “Why were yeattemptingto climb the tree?”
“Guinevere!” came a gasp from behind him.
Guinevere stiffened, and Asher turned to see her mother coming toward them. Did she still show Guinevere with unthinking words and actions that she felt her a daughter who fell short of what thetonconsidered an Incomparable?
“Oh, Your Grace!” her mother said. Obvious surprise set the features of her face. “I hope Guinevere has not detained you?”
The statement seemed to answer his question from moments ago. “Nay, my lady.” He could feel Guinevere’s tension like a wave of heat. “’Tis I who detained yer daughter. I do apologize. I was turned about trying to find my bedchamber”—a bold lie—“and she kindly was directing me.”
“Oh. Oh, I see. Well, now that you stand before her, I’m sure you see she has much blossomed since you last knew her. Has she not?”
“Mama!” Guinevere gasped, horror ringing in her tone.
Anger on Guinevere’s behalf simmered. “If my memory serves,” he said, catching Guinevere’s gaze, “she was already the loveliest of creatures five years ago.”
“Oh!” The countess beamed. “I always said I liked you!”
“I don’t recall you saying that, Mama.”
Her blunt, truthful words struck him like a hard blow. It was as if he was glimpsing the woman he’d thought her to be. This unblinking lass with the frank look was the enchantress whom he’d believed was so different from everyone else. Doubt gripped him. Doubt he could not and should not allow.
“Guinevere,” her mother scolded, giving her a dark, layered look. “I apologize, Your Grace. She has always been too outspoken, but I daresay she is not normally like this anymore.”
“That would be unfortunate,” he replied as Guinevere stared at him with her mesmerizing green gaze. Her eyes widened, and she gave him a thankful smile that made his chest constrict.
“Assure him, Guinevere,” her mother suggested. The woman was clearly hoping to make a match between them. If only she knew her efforts were not needed. He would pursue Guinevere—ifshe did not want Kilgore.
“I assure you, Your Grace, that I’m perfectly boring, as men of your ilk seem to desire.” Was she referring to him or Kilgore? He should not feel as if he cared, only as if he needed to know to make a business decision, but damn it, his chest tightened. She served him a dry look before continuing. “Normally I speak of only the most trivial matters, such as my lack of skill at the pianoforte, my distaste of embroidery, my scarcely clung-to tolerance for talk of the weather, and my inability to pretend I’m less intelligent than a man.”
God her words made him want to kiss her senseless, which proved that if he was not extremely careful, Guinevere could make him a clot-heid again. Her mother looked as if she would throttle Guinevere on the spot, but she forced a smile to her thin lips and a brittle laugh. “She is so clever, my eldest. She is only jesting with you, Your Grace. She is as accomplished as your Elizabeth was!”
He had the almost uncontrollable desire to rip off his cravat and stuff it in Lady Fairfax’s mouth. Instead, he said, “I would imagine a woman who knows of politics would be rather more useful to most men of myilkthan one who knows how to create the perfect stitch.” He was not speaking as a fool about to fall. It was the truth.
“Oh? I see, I see,” the countess cooed. “Well, perhaps tomorrow Guinevere can talk matters of Parliament with you.” Her voice had dropped to an exaggerated whisper, as if it would be embarrassing for anyone to overhear that Guinevere could converse on matters of the Realm.
“Mama,” Guinevere muttered hastily, “His Grace did not come to the house party to spend time with me.”
“But I did, my lady,” he inserted, seizing his chance to get her alone again. For the purpose of making an informed decision, of course. Not because he desired her. Not because these glimpses of the woman he’d thought he’d known were intriguing him.
Guinevere’s eyes widened and she appeared speechless, but her mother was not struck with the same malady. “Perhaps you’d like to pair with Guinevere for the treasure hunt tomorrow?”
