The Widow's Auction by Sabrina Jeffries Page B

dressing.
    He went on. “Lady Kingsley suggested that during the day we store the boys’ blankets in a closet adjacent to the chimneys that lead from the kitchens. She also said the lads should put hot bricks from the oven into their beds every evening before bedtime. Between the warmed blankets and the bricks, the boys are kept quite comfy, and we aren’t forced to pay exorbitant prices for extra coal.”
    â€œWhat a good idea.” She lifted a smug gaze to him. “This Lady Kingsley sounds very resourceful.”
    He stifled a grin. “Oh, yes, very resourceful indeed. But then it takes a woman to be resourceful in such matters. We men would have spent all our time trying to figure out how to lower the cost of coal in England so we could afford to purchase more for heating Lamberton School.”
    She laughed, and the warm sound settled in his chest. They are in a companionable silence for a few moments.
    But he wasn’t done with her yet. “Of course, those womanly instincts and emotions can sometimes also be a liability.”
    â€œHow so?”
    â€œI recently suggested that we build a factory on the grounds of the school. And this same astute lady–reacting as the gently bred creature that she is–opposed it without even listening to my proposal.”
    She drew her mouth up in a mutinous line. “Perhaps the idea of child labor revolted her.”
    â€œAh, but these are older boys, eager to learn a skill and find ways to support their parents and siblings. Besides which, I don’t mean to have them do anything taxing. The way I envision it, the factory’s activities can be integrated with their studies. They’ll learn about mathematics in class, then see it applied at the factory. They’ll learn how to run a business through the factory, then be more motivated to read those books and essays that inspired the men of trade who went before them.”
    â€œI see. It does sound. . . rather intriguing when you put it like that.” She toyed with a piece of asparagus, twirling it round and round on her plate with her fork. “And did the other members of your board approve of this idea?”
    â€œSome of them. Not all.” He broke off some bread and buttered it. “In fact, that’s why I was at that auction–I was trying to convince Lord Bradford to support my position.”
    Her gaze shot to his. “But you bid against him!”
    â€œYes. I bid against him.” He added dryly, “I think it’s safe to say that I’ve lost his support.”
    â€œWhy would you do that? Enter into a foolish bidding competition when it went against your best interests to do so?”
    Tossing the bread aside, he leaned forward to clasp her hands. “Because I couldn’t bear to see a woman as lovely and refined as you in the clutches of a man like him.”
    The blood drained from her face. “So you were trying to. . . to protect me?”
    He nodded. All right, so that wasn’t all he’d wanted to do, but that had certainly been part of it.
    â€œYou weren’t really wanting to spend the night with a widow at all?” she asked in a small voice.
    â€œNo. It’s not my sort of entertainment. I only bid because Bradford did.”
    Drawing her hands free of his grasp, she murmured, “Then you don’t really want to bed me.”
    Her plaintive tone confused him. “It’s not that I don’t want to bed you exactly. . . it’s just that–”
    â€œI should have known.” Her head was bowed, and she kept twisting her hands together. “I was afraid of this–that I might lack the figure and the. . . the female attractions to tempt a man like you–”
    â€œGood God, I only wish that were true,” he broke in. She was making him feel awful. And were those tears glimmering in her eyes, for God’s sake? “See here, Bella,