it.”
“Naturally.”
“Aunt Hetty wasn’t much help. She said the cattle in the field were able to manage without guidance and that when the time came I only had to lay back and do my duty. As she’s never been married I realize she lacks empirical knowledge. Are you all right?”
He appeared to be choking.
“Fine,” he gasped.
“Should I ring for help?”
He really was the most alarming shade of red.
“Truly. I’m fine.”
They ate in companionable silence for a moment. Cook was clearly a genius in the kitchen; the scones were light as air. She was contemplating whether a third scone was unnecessarily greedy when she noticed Hatterly studying her.
Caught in this endeavor, Hatterly raised an eyebrow and examined her over the rim of his cup. The look was neither flirtatious nor the look of a man assessing a woman’s beauty — not even especially flattering.
She felt like one of his specimens.
Yes, that was the look, as if he was studying her, making field notes and little sketches in his mind.
Eating Habits of the Lesser Wifely Heron, by Mr. Charles Hatterly.
“Why have you never married?” She blurted it out without thinking, but it was a fair question and one that startled him. She knew because he choked on his tea. Good . She liked having that effect on him.
“Haven’t we covered that already?”
“No, not precisely.”
“I dislike change. My life was fine the way it was.”
“But you’re a man.”
“I should hope so.”
“Marriage doesn’t have to change things for a man. You have your clubs and your mistresses and your gaming hells.”
“I beg your pardon!”
“Oh, I meant you in the universal sense, you as a man, not you personally. Don’t look so offended. I merely meant that if you don’t want marriage to change your circumstances, it doesn’t have to. Marriage is one of those things that a man does and then continues on, but for a woman marriage is everything, her entire future. But I digress. We are not speaking of the universal man, but of you. You detest the marriage mart and yet you have so much to offer a woman. Why not take a wife and be done with it?”
“I was adverse to the notion,” he said stiffly.
“Which is no answer of any sort.”
“It is the only answer. I cannot stomach the notion of yoking myself to some woman for whom I have no regard. Marriage need not be a love match, but there should be something there, some admiration or affection.” His fierce expression gentled. “I’m hardly the prime catch you seem to think, my darling.”
“You grossly underestimate yourself. You’re very handsome and your clothes are cut well, although I can’t imagine how you make do without a proper valet.”
“Good looks are common enough. I should warn you the filthy lucre you spent so freely today was earned by trade.”
“I don’t care about that.” Ah. She’d expected the Hatterlys were in trade.
“I didn’t believe that you did. There are many women for whom bloodlines are everything; not only my bloodlines, but that of my blunt is of some importance. Only desperate mamas fling their daughters in my path and they’re bland, half-formed offerings at that.”
I cannot stomach the notion of yoking myself to some woman for whom I have no regard…
He was choosing to yoke himself to her. She smiled just a bit to herself. “Half-formed? I take it I am exempt from such scornful insights?”
“You are charming and lively and…comfortable to be with,” he finished. “I never know what you will say next.”
Pru stood. “I’ll leave you to your birds now. While I can’t say I’m thrilled to be called comfortable, I accept your explanation. And in the interest of honest disclosure, I did not spend your filthy lucre this morning. I spent Papa’s.” Hatterly’s mouth gaped. He really was adorable when shocked. “Madame Roquefort is accustomed to sending the bills to him and when she mentioned it,” Pru shrugged. “I did nothing to
“Naturally.”
“Aunt Hetty wasn’t much help. She said the cattle in the field were able to manage without guidance and that when the time came I only had to lay back and do my duty. As she’s never been married I realize she lacks empirical knowledge. Are you all right?”
He appeared to be choking.
“Fine,” he gasped.
“Should I ring for help?”
He really was the most alarming shade of red.
“Truly. I’m fine.”
They ate in companionable silence for a moment. Cook was clearly a genius in the kitchen; the scones were light as air. She was contemplating whether a third scone was unnecessarily greedy when she noticed Hatterly studying her.
Caught in this endeavor, Hatterly raised an eyebrow and examined her over the rim of his cup. The look was neither flirtatious nor the look of a man assessing a woman’s beauty — not even especially flattering.
She felt like one of his specimens.
Yes, that was the look, as if he was studying her, making field notes and little sketches in his mind.
Eating Habits of the Lesser Wifely Heron, by Mr. Charles Hatterly.
“Why have you never married?” She blurted it out without thinking, but it was a fair question and one that startled him. She knew because he choked on his tea. Good . She liked having that effect on him.
“Haven’t we covered that already?”
“No, not precisely.”
“I dislike change. My life was fine the way it was.”
“But you’re a man.”
“I should hope so.”
“Marriage doesn’t have to change things for a man. You have your clubs and your mistresses and your gaming hells.”
“I beg your pardon!”
“Oh, I meant you in the universal sense, you as a man, not you personally. Don’t look so offended. I merely meant that if you don’t want marriage to change your circumstances, it doesn’t have to. Marriage is one of those things that a man does and then continues on, but for a woman marriage is everything, her entire future. But I digress. We are not speaking of the universal man, but of you. You detest the marriage mart and yet you have so much to offer a woman. Why not take a wife and be done with it?”
“I was adverse to the notion,” he said stiffly.
“Which is no answer of any sort.”
“It is the only answer. I cannot stomach the notion of yoking myself to some woman for whom I have no regard. Marriage need not be a love match, but there should be something there, some admiration or affection.” His fierce expression gentled. “I’m hardly the prime catch you seem to think, my darling.”
“You grossly underestimate yourself. You’re very handsome and your clothes are cut well, although I can’t imagine how you make do without a proper valet.”
“Good looks are common enough. I should warn you the filthy lucre you spent so freely today was earned by trade.”
“I don’t care about that.” Ah. She’d expected the Hatterlys were in trade.
“I didn’t believe that you did. There are many women for whom bloodlines are everything; not only my bloodlines, but that of my blunt is of some importance. Only desperate mamas fling their daughters in my path and they’re bland, half-formed offerings at that.”
I cannot stomach the notion of yoking myself to some woman for whom I have no regard…
He was choosing to yoke himself to her. She smiled just a bit to herself. “Half-formed? I take it I am exempt from such scornful insights?”
“You are charming and lively and…comfortable to be with,” he finished. “I never know what you will say next.”
Pru stood. “I’ll leave you to your birds now. While I can’t say I’m thrilled to be called comfortable, I accept your explanation. And in the interest of honest disclosure, I did not spend your filthy lucre this morning. I spent Papa’s.” Hatterly’s mouth gaped. He really was adorable when shocked. “Madame Roquefort is accustomed to sending the bills to him and when she mentioned it,” Pru shrugged. “I did nothing to
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