moment. The strawberry-blonde woman came out of the room, calling to her sister, effectively breaking his connection to the brunette. The dark beauty was gone in the next moment.
A widow would make a good companion for the next few weeks in the country. Perhaps it was time to try some fine English stock. Better yet, he should start his hunt for a wife, since he was settling out of trade from the East and into a quieter life. A much less dangerous life. A life more suited to settling down with a family. The widow might not want anything with strings attached, so he’d play whatever game she was willing to give him.
Maybe having the sisters stay on wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. Though he’d have to be careful to keep his plans to seduce Richard’s sister-in-law to himself. He wasn’t sure what his friend would think. But it would be the pretty brunette’s choice as to how things unfolded from here on out.
* * *
Stacking the letters he’d gone through in the middle of the desk, Richard stood from the chair and stretched his back, careful not to put any strain on the stitches at his side. Damn thing was healing too slowly for his liking.
It was time he went up and talked to his wife. She needed to know what his objectives were. What he expected of her. He desired her and he had no intentions of denying it. He would convince her that that desire could be mutually beneficial.
As he walked through the house, he noticed it hadn’t changed much. The pictures of distant relatives were all lined up in the same spot they’d always been while he was growing up. He wondered if she had changed anything in the old estate.
Rounding the stairs to the master bedchambers, he could hear the low voices of Emma and her sisters; not what they said, but it seemed to be a heated dispute.
He’d not eavesdrop like some old biddy. He leaned his shoulder against the door frame and waited for them to take notice of him. Abby saw him first since she faced the door. She tugged at Grace’s belled sleeve, silencing her.
All three women stood on taking notice of him.
He’d not make them guess why he was here. He cleared his throat. “I’d like to speak to Emma privately before supper.”
They made their curtsies, gave one last look toward Emma, and left the room. Once they walked past him, he stepped inside the sitting room of her apartment and shut the door—not all the way, just enough to give them a few moments of solitude.
It was a small room, a settee and one chair situated around the fireplace. The furniture had been updated in this room since he last set foot in it, when his mother was alive. There was a desk off to the right corner painted in a pale yellow, and heavy green-and-gold drapery outlining a wall of windows. The room was airy and light in decor. A door led off to her bedchamber on the left, and a dressing room on the right.
When his gaze roamed back toward her, she lifted her chin and stared him straight in the eye. “Is there something you wished to tell me that couldn’t wait till later?”
“I wanted a moment alone with you.” Was that so much to ask for?
She motioned to the chair across from where she stood. “Please. Won’t you take a seat?”
He was afraid that if he sat, he might not be able to get back up now that a tingling sensation had started over his ribs.
He waved off the offer. “I’ll be but a moment.”
She inclined her head and made no move to sit, either.
Her hair was tied in a loose bun at the back of her head; a few strands had worked free of the knot and framed her face becomingly. She had more freckles than he’d originally thought, indicating she was an outdoorswoman. There was so much he didn’t know about his wife. So much, he realized, he’d like to discover.
“What is it you wish to say?” Her question snapped him out of his observations.
“I plan to stay on for at least a month.”
She nodded, seeming neither satisfied nor unsatisfied by his
A widow would make a good companion for the next few weeks in the country. Perhaps it was time to try some fine English stock. Better yet, he should start his hunt for a wife, since he was settling out of trade from the East and into a quieter life. A much less dangerous life. A life more suited to settling down with a family. The widow might not want anything with strings attached, so he’d play whatever game she was willing to give him.
Maybe having the sisters stay on wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. Though he’d have to be careful to keep his plans to seduce Richard’s sister-in-law to himself. He wasn’t sure what his friend would think. But it would be the pretty brunette’s choice as to how things unfolded from here on out.
* * *
Stacking the letters he’d gone through in the middle of the desk, Richard stood from the chair and stretched his back, careful not to put any strain on the stitches at his side. Damn thing was healing too slowly for his liking.
It was time he went up and talked to his wife. She needed to know what his objectives were. What he expected of her. He desired her and he had no intentions of denying it. He would convince her that that desire could be mutually beneficial.
As he walked through the house, he noticed it hadn’t changed much. The pictures of distant relatives were all lined up in the same spot they’d always been while he was growing up. He wondered if she had changed anything in the old estate.
Rounding the stairs to the master bedchambers, he could hear the low voices of Emma and her sisters; not what they said, but it seemed to be a heated dispute.
He’d not eavesdrop like some old biddy. He leaned his shoulder against the door frame and waited for them to take notice of him. Abby saw him first since she faced the door. She tugged at Grace’s belled sleeve, silencing her.
All three women stood on taking notice of him.
He’d not make them guess why he was here. He cleared his throat. “I’d like to speak to Emma privately before supper.”
They made their curtsies, gave one last look toward Emma, and left the room. Once they walked past him, he stepped inside the sitting room of her apartment and shut the door—not all the way, just enough to give them a few moments of solitude.
It was a small room, a settee and one chair situated around the fireplace. The furniture had been updated in this room since he last set foot in it, when his mother was alive. There was a desk off to the right corner painted in a pale yellow, and heavy green-and-gold drapery outlining a wall of windows. The room was airy and light in decor. A door led off to her bedchamber on the left, and a dressing room on the right.
When his gaze roamed back toward her, she lifted her chin and stared him straight in the eye. “Is there something you wished to tell me that couldn’t wait till later?”
“I wanted a moment alone with you.” Was that so much to ask for?
She motioned to the chair across from where she stood. “Please. Won’t you take a seat?”
He was afraid that if he sat, he might not be able to get back up now that a tingling sensation had started over his ribs.
He waved off the offer. “I’ll be but a moment.”
She inclined her head and made no move to sit, either.
Her hair was tied in a loose bun at the back of her head; a few strands had worked free of the knot and framed her face becomingly. She had more freckles than he’d originally thought, indicating she was an outdoorswoman. There was so much he didn’t know about his wife. So much, he realized, he’d like to discover.
“What is it you wish to say?” Her question snapped him out of his observations.
“I plan to stay on for at least a month.”
She nodded, seeming neither satisfied nor unsatisfied by his
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