Page 35 of After the Abduction

Finally comprehending the source of the trouble, he sighed. He rounded the chair, then leaned forward to prop his folded arms gingerly on the back of it. “I should clarify—it’s inappropriate for a male master to chat with his female servants.”

“I can’t imagine why—” she began.

“Because it can be mistaken for something else. Especially when the previous baron was such a—” He couldn’t believe he was discussing this. But it wouldn’t do to have her thinking him overly officious with his servants. Not when she already thought him dull and pompous. “When I took over management of this estate, I had to deal with several female servants with whom my father tended to…‘chat’ overlong, if you take my meaning. Apparently, they recognized, and rightly so, that I would compensate them financially for the ruin they’d suffered at my father’s hand.”

Her eyes went round, and she blushed furiously. “Oh.”

“Most of them are gone now. I did my best to find them husbands. The new maids know little of that, which is how I want it.” He smiled ruefully. “As a child I wondered why Father’s maids acted as if I might pounce at any moment. They were always reminding me to keep my hands to myself. They wouldn’t even let me buss their cheeks. Once I learned why, I decided that my female employees would never have cause to complain about me on that score. But I may have…er…overdone it.”

“Perhaps a little,” she said gently. “Praising their efforts once in a while probably wouldn’t be amiss. As it is, they think you don’t like them.”

He stiffened. He wasn’t used to being lectured on how to treat his servants. “Better than having them think I like them too well.”

“Isn’t there some middle ground?”

The soft sympathy in her voice soothed his stung pride. “No doubt there is. Perhaps you could help me find it.”

That seemed to disturb her, for she dropped her head and began fidgeting with her gown, smoothing out unseen wrinkles, plucking off invisible lint. “It would not be my place to do such a thing.”

It could be, he thought, but didn’t say it. He mustn’t scare her off before he’d even begun courting her.

“Besides,” she added, “I wouldn’t know how.”

“I sincerely doubt that. For one thing, you understand women better than I do.”

“You could understand them better, too, if you’d invite some to visit once in a while. Even bachelors have house parties. I’m surprised you don’t.”

“No one wants to traipse all the way from London to Shropshire for that.”

No one he wanted, anyway. After seeing so-called proper society women leap into bed with his father at the drop of a handkerchief, he’d had no interest in ladies of quality. Or in the other sort either. His determination to avoid his father’s shameful behavior had kept him from taking a mistress locally. In London, he’d had a few discreet encounters with light skirts, but here he lived a monkish life, pouring his passions into gun design.

But perhaps he’d been too hasty in cutting himself off from society. With Juliet flitting about, tormenting him…exciting him…he felt the absence of gently bred women in his life most acutely. He could use a wife, and Charnwood Hall a mistress.

Especially if it was Juliet. Her very presence brightened the hall, softened its edges. And considering what he owed her, the least he could do was marry her.

As if she could read his mind, she tilted her head up suddenly and flashed him a mischievous look. “We’ve wandered far afield, my lord. I thought you were supposed to be giving me a lesson.”

“Ah, yes.” He smiled. “Although I’m not sure you need it. Judging from the conversation at lunch, I’d say you were quite adept at recognizing scoundrels. It sounds as if you had perfectly good reasons for rejecting your suitors.”

“That was only five of them,” she remarked.

“How many have you refused?”

Her brow furrowed in thought. “Let me see…there was Mr. Rowland, the banker’s son from York. And Lord Ferguson and Sir Patrick Welch, although I suspect both of them were only interested in my dowry. Then there was that count from Italy…whatever was his name…”

“I get the point.” How many blasted men had courted her, anyway? Not that it surprised him. Who could blame any marriage-minded gentleman for wanting an angel like her gracing his table and sharing his bed? “Were they all as bad as your brother-in-law said?”

“They all had some characteristic I disliked, but whether they were truly bad is anybody’s guess. Rosalind says no; Griff says yes. I have no idea. Which is why I need you, isn’t it?”

He wanted her needing him for something else entirely, but this was a start. “Perhaps you should begin by telling me what aspects of their courtships gave you the most trouble.” That would enable him to avoid his predecessors’ mistakes.

She tipped up her chin and stared at him with her new, unnervingly direct gaze. “Well, there are the compliments, for one thing. Men always give me compliments, but I never know when they’re sincere.”

“What does it matter? If a man shades the truth in his compliments to a woman, that doesn’t mean he’s insincere in his interest. It only means he’s aiming to win, and he’ll say what he must to achieve that goal. One might almost call it admirable.”

She arched her delicate eyebrows. “You’re quite the cynic.” She leaned back against the settee, an impish smile curving up her lips. “Or is that what you do when you’re trying to win a woman—shade the truth? Use subterfuge?”

By thunder, when had naive Juliet become a flirt? There was some hidden meaning in her question, yet all he could focus on was that lovely, kissable mouth. “We’re not talking about me.”