Page 66 of A Much Maligned Miss

“Oh, wonderful,” she said, sitting up and affording him a gratifying view of her in his nightshirt. Strange how pleasing he found it. “Thank you,” she said, taking the cup and saucer. “Well, I hate to tell tales out of school, but yesterday Romulus was rather naughty.” She eyed the gray and black cat reproachfully. “He showed scant respect for Mr. Bailey’s artistic endeavors and scarcely listened to a word I said.”

Gervaise glanced down at the cat in question. Romulus struggled against him, so he set him down on the counterpane. The small cat promptly pounced on his brother, wrestled him into submission, and began aggressively licking Remus’s head.

“Romulus knows his own mind,” Gervaise corrected her firmly. “And doubtless shows more respect for the sciences than the arts.”

“Is that so?” She sounded amused, lifting her teacup to her lips. He reached for her cashmere shawl. “Here, put this on.” He passed it about her shoulders and watched as she absently stroked the soft fabric.

It made him shiver slightly. She had touched him with similar assurance the night before and found himself devoutly wishing she would do so again.

26

“Is that what you’re wearing today?”

Caroline glanced down at her burgundy dress. “Yes. Why?”

Gervaise was stood over by the chest of drawers, running a clothes brush over his jacket. She wondered if he did not usually have a valet to perform that service. Perhaps not since his uncle had disowned him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in that gown before.”

“No, I don’t suppose you have. Do you like it?” She turned to give him the full effect, turning to one side and then the other.

He considered her a moment before answering. “Yes, I do. You look rather like a governess. One who could not be trusted with gentlemen callers.”

An untrustworthy governess. Oh, how badly she wanted to ask him to explain himself but seeing the gleam in his eye, Caroline knew she could not pursue it. Instead, she tucked the compliment away for future consideration. “I’ve always rather liked the sleeves myself,” she observed airily. “Don’t you agree?”

“The detailing there adds a certain something,” he conceded. “Though you are in dire need of a new wardrobe.”

She glanced about the room. “Yes, but there’s not really anywhere to store many more clothes in any case.”

“There is the room next door,” he reminded her.

“Aren’t you using that as your dressing room?”

“Yes, but I am willing to share,” he answered mildly. “With you.”

He really was proving to be very amenable, she reflected, fastening the buttons at her cuffs. Especially when she had been so disobliging as to refuse his offer of marriage the night before. She still felt rather bad about that, but he would thank her for it in the long run.

At least he had not taken mortal offence as she had feared initially that he might. He also had not rushed off and become engaged to anyone else, she reflected thankfully. Really, he had behaved handsomely toward her in every respect, she thought with a rush of gratitude.

Well, except for that rather shocking “act of service” he had performed on her last night, she recalled with a guilty start. But she would not think of that now. Such things did not bear examination in the cold light of day.

Whenever it crossed her mind this morning, her face grew rather hot, and she turned flustered and fumbling. And that would never do, she resolved firmly. Why, she would be turning twenty-seven shortly and doubtless her new role in life called for such debaucheries!

A wife might object, indeed, it was likely incumbent on her to protest such rude treatment, but a mistress was a different matter altogether. Besides, she had not disliked it precisely, Caroline admitted to herself privately. It had, well, been shockingly pleasurable if she was being absolutely truthful.

She wondered, feeling rather dazed, if she would become accustomed to such things as Lord Atherton’s mistress. It was hard to imagine but perhaps with time she would grow quite blasé about that wicked mouth… Catching her staring at him, he quirked a quizzical eyebrow and Caroline returned to earth with a jolt.

Clearing her throat, she made for the tiny mirror and started dragging her hair back into a bun before she remembered her newer, looser style and had to adjust it accordingly. Once she had in a nice poufy chignon arrangement, she started driving in her hairpins.

She would wait until she was alone, perhaps curled up in a comfortable chair, to fully contemplate Gervaise’s baseness. Yes, she would wait until then to make up her mind how she felt about it all.

“You look very thoughtful,” Gervaise murmured, interrupting her thoughts.

“Oh, do I?” she answered, striving to sound offhand.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked slyly. “Last night?” He appeared suddenly over her shoulder in the mirror. Quite a feat, considering how small it was.

Caroline almost dropped her hairbrush and had to make a quick grab for it. “Um…”

“Because, if you’ve changed your mind, you could let me know at any time,” he offered, his hands coming up to rest lightly at her waist. “Don’t feel like you have to wait for me to raise the subject again.”