sure that they confine their belongings to their floor of the house.”
So imperious, so selfish. “Are they to be physically restricted to the schoolroom and their bedchambers?”
Carden chuckled and winked at her. “There’s that tart tongue again, Mrs. Treadwell.”
“My apologies, Mr. Reeves.”
She hadn’t been any more sincere in this apology than she had in the one she’d offered before. A most interesting woman, this Mrs. Treadwell. On the surface of things, she held to social expectations, but, beneath all the polite niceties, she didn’t honor the rules any more than he did. A woman after his own heart. He was going to enjoy having her around just for the breath of fresh feminine air she provided.
“I expect my nieces to generally conduct themselves as do other young ladies of their social class,” Carden replied, deliberately skirting her query. “I’ll leave Sawyer to inform you of the daily household schedule. I’ll plan to dine in on a fairly regular basis for the duration of your stay. In the interest of creating a sense of family for them, they’ll dine with me. Please have my nieces dress appropriately for the evening meal.”
“Of course.”
“You’ll be expected to join us, as well,” Carden went on, working to contain his smile, “so see that you have suitable attire for the occasion. At my expense, of course.” She hesitated and he could practically hear the mental wheels whirling in her brain.
“Thank you,” she said stiffly.
He tilted his head and grinned. “That was painful for you to say, wasn’t it?”
If her heart hadn’t been skittering all over her chest, she might have acted on the urge to slap him across his very handsome cheek. Instead, she drew her shoulders back, lifted her chin, and fixed her gaze on a point just over his incredibly wide shoulder. “I’ve never been in employ, Mr. Reeves. I’m not at all comfortable with it.”
“You’ll adjust in time.”
“I doubt that very much,” she retorted icily.
He shrugged. “If you’re truly uncomfortable with the notion, perhaps we could negotiate an exchange of sorts. A service for a service.”
“Perhaps,” Sera repeated dubiously. She could well imagine just what services he had in mind. As humiliating as it was being in employ, it was a condition far more honorable than being a decidedly temporary mistress. She took a deliberate step back, asking, “Are we concluded?”
“I believe so.”
“Then I’ll return to your nieces and the affable Mr. Terrell,” she declared, turning and starting for the doors.
The handle was in her hand, escape just a mere second away, when he called out, “Oh, there is one more thing.”
She paused, waiting, but when he said nothing further, she drew a deep breath and turned back to face him. “And that would be?”
His smile was devilish again. “Introductions may be necessary from time to time. Do you have a Christian name?”
“Yes.”
Carden laughed outright. Damn if she didn’t give as good as she got. “What is it?”
“Seraphina.”
“For the angels?” he asked, his grin so wide his face actually hurt.
The color was flooding her cheeks again when she opened the door and stepped out of the room saying simply, “My parents had illusions.”
“I don’t,” he whispered as he watched her pull the door closed behind her. “Seraphina Treadwell.” He liked the sound of it; it rolled off his tongue very nicely. He liked the woman who bore the name, too. She was so delightfully different from all the other women in his world. No coy eyelash-batting. No miss-ish airs. No obedient subservience. No pretending that she was physically unaware of him. Seraphina Treadwell challenged his mind and made his blood race. Oh, yes, he was definitely going to enjoy having her under his roof for a time.
Pushing himself off his desk, he crossed to the sideboard and poured himself a brandy. Lifting his glass toward the doors, he said softly, “To the
So imperious, so selfish. “Are they to be physically restricted to the schoolroom and their bedchambers?”
Carden chuckled and winked at her. “There’s that tart tongue again, Mrs. Treadwell.”
“My apologies, Mr. Reeves.”
She hadn’t been any more sincere in this apology than she had in the one she’d offered before. A most interesting woman, this Mrs. Treadwell. On the surface of things, she held to social expectations, but, beneath all the polite niceties, she didn’t honor the rules any more than he did. A woman after his own heart. He was going to enjoy having her around just for the breath of fresh feminine air she provided.
“I expect my nieces to generally conduct themselves as do other young ladies of their social class,” Carden replied, deliberately skirting her query. “I’ll leave Sawyer to inform you of the daily household schedule. I’ll plan to dine in on a fairly regular basis for the duration of your stay. In the interest of creating a sense of family for them, they’ll dine with me. Please have my nieces dress appropriately for the evening meal.”
“Of course.”
“You’ll be expected to join us, as well,” Carden went on, working to contain his smile, “so see that you have suitable attire for the occasion. At my expense, of course.” She hesitated and he could practically hear the mental wheels whirling in her brain.
“Thank you,” she said stiffly.
He tilted his head and grinned. “That was painful for you to say, wasn’t it?”
If her heart hadn’t been skittering all over her chest, she might have acted on the urge to slap him across his very handsome cheek. Instead, she drew her shoulders back, lifted her chin, and fixed her gaze on a point just over his incredibly wide shoulder. “I’ve never been in employ, Mr. Reeves. I’m not at all comfortable with it.”
“You’ll adjust in time.”
“I doubt that very much,” she retorted icily.
He shrugged. “If you’re truly uncomfortable with the notion, perhaps we could negotiate an exchange of sorts. A service for a service.”
“Perhaps,” Sera repeated dubiously. She could well imagine just what services he had in mind. As humiliating as it was being in employ, it was a condition far more honorable than being a decidedly temporary mistress. She took a deliberate step back, asking, “Are we concluded?”
“I believe so.”
“Then I’ll return to your nieces and the affable Mr. Terrell,” she declared, turning and starting for the doors.
The handle was in her hand, escape just a mere second away, when he called out, “Oh, there is one more thing.”
She paused, waiting, but when he said nothing further, she drew a deep breath and turned back to face him. “And that would be?”
His smile was devilish again. “Introductions may be necessary from time to time. Do you have a Christian name?”
“Yes.”
Carden laughed outright. Damn if she didn’t give as good as she got. “What is it?”
“Seraphina.”
“For the angels?” he asked, his grin so wide his face actually hurt.
The color was flooding her cheeks again when she opened the door and stepped out of the room saying simply, “My parents had illusions.”
“I don’t,” he whispered as he watched her pull the door closed behind her. “Seraphina Treadwell.” He liked the sound of it; it rolled off his tongue very nicely. He liked the woman who bore the name, too. She was so delightfully different from all the other women in his world. No coy eyelash-batting. No miss-ish airs. No obedient subservience. No pretending that she was physically unaware of him. Seraphina Treadwell challenged his mind and made his blood race. Oh, yes, he was definitely going to enjoy having her under his roof for a time.
Pushing himself off his desk, he crossed to the sideboard and poured himself a brandy. Lifting his glass toward the doors, he said softly, “To the
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