The Surrender of Miss Fairbourne (7 page)

“I think that is unlikely.”

“Because you are less experienced at whistling? I promise not to drown out your efforts.”

She laughed lightly, as if he had made a joke. “I fear that you really would not suit the situation at all, Lord Southwaite.”

He appeared surprised. Perhaps even insulted. “Are you saying I do not fit your requirements? Am I too old? Not handsome enough?”

“You are hardly old, and your appearance is…acceptable.” Actually, if he were not a gentleman, he would do splendidly. He even knew about art.

“Then why am I not suitable? I would think I am obviously preferable to the boys you had waiting here.”

She wasn’t even sure he was teasing her now. The conversation had become awkward.

“I trust that you do not expect me to remove my coats to prove that I satisfy the requirement regarding physique,” he said. “I would find that undignified.”

Oh, dear heavens. He must have overheard Cassandra. “Yes. Please, do not—that is, I am sure that—Your strength is undeniable. No one could doubt it. Demonstration is not necessary.”

“I am relieved to hear it. And, I assure you, I require no similar proof of your physical attributes either. At least not in advance.”

What an odd and shocking thing to even suggest.

She stared at him, dumbfounded. He smiled back. Warmly.

M
iss Fairbourne appeared extremely surprised. Good.

Darius trusted that she was comprehending the foolishness of that advertisement now that a man had actually taken her up on the offer.

She might think that she could control matters by being an employer instead of a lover, but as the woman in an affair she would ultimately be vulnerable in the worst ways no matter who paid whom. If the mere notion of disrobing for a lord left her mouth agape, she would not have fared well with one of those callow clerks who had come to call, especially once the bedroom door closed.

She appeared quite vulnerable when stunned. Very sweet, actually. Much as she had in those inconvenient dreams. He was only teaching her a lesson, of course, and protecting Fairbourne’s reputation, but a small part of him, a totally physical part, argued for seeing if he could seal the deal instead.

Such were the dark voices of desire.

He could not resist teaching that lesson very well, since he finally had her at the disadvantage. “I realize I am not what you expected when you composed this advertisement. Nor, as I have told myself repeatedly, are you what I normally seek in such arrangements. However, I think we will be well matched. Your boldness suits my own preferences, and suggests that the pleasures you offer will not be only the predictable ones.”

Still she said nothing. Her expression became even more astonished, to his satisfaction.

“Are you concerned that the change in your plans will put you at a disadvantage, Miss Fairbourne? That in not being able to whistle the tune alone, you will now be left without any voice? Or that, due to our difference in stations, and due to your original intention to pay, that I will be
ungenerous either in my attentions or my appreciation? I promise that you will have no complaints, and if you do, I will correct the situation at once. Just as I am sure you will address any of mine.”

She narrowed her eyes and frowned. “Lord Southwaite, what
are
you talking about?”

She appeared truly bewildered now, rather than surprised or frightened. Enough to give him pause. He picked up the newspaper. “I am talking about this, of course, only with appropriate alterations to make it less vulgar.”

She stretched her arm to take the paper. She pored over the marked advertisement.

“You are not the first woman of mature years to look for a lover this way, Miss Fairbourne. You description is less bawdy than most, but you made your point well enough to be understood. I daresay all of London is enjoying the elegant directness with which you describe your needs.”

A deep flush colored her face fast. She covered her mouth with her hands and stared at him. She returned her gaze to the paper but he saw fires enter her eyes. “Your presumptions are beyond the pale, sir.”

“You think I am being presumptuous?” It was not a word that sat well with him, especially coming from a merchant’s daughter who invited assumptions, if not presumptions.

“Unforgivably so.”

“I think I am being unduly magnanimous.” Damned high-minded, actually. She was willing to settle for buying a whore, and he offered her an earl’s generosity, after all. This lesson could have proceeded much more crudely.

“I am sure you do think that. I am guessing you have no idea just how outrageous your presumption is.”

“No doubt you will enlighten me, since you rarely hold your tongue when you would be wise to do so.”

He trusted she would hear the warning. She appeared ready to detail the insult no matter how ill-advised it might be. Of course she would. What had he been thinking, to bother to try to spare her the indignities she had invited?

“First,” she said. “You are presumptuous in assuming
that a woman advertising for a lover would want a lover who does not fulfill her requirements, the first of which is that he be an employee and nothing more.”

“Actually I presumed that a woman seeking a lover would prefer a man of some skill, consideration, and breeding who bestows gifts, over some callow boy who thinks only of himself and then demands coin,” he said. “Forgive me, however, for not seeing the benefits to such a woman of the more costly, indecorous, and less satisfying choice.”

“Second,”
she intoned, ignoring what he said. “You are presumptuous in thinking, with no encouragement from me, that I would be agreeable, no matter what the arrangements, to having
you
as the lover in question.”

She stood. Her color rose. Her eyes flashed lightning. He half expected a spear to appear in her hand and for her to bellow a Celtic battle cry.

“Finally, you are
unbearably
presumptuous in thinking you know the meaning of this advertisement to begin with. The situation described in this notice was
not
for a lover, Lord Southwaite.” She tossed the newspaper at him for emphasis.

He caught it, stood in turn, and glared down at the advertisement. “The
hell
it wasn’t.”

The potential for profound embarrassment suddenly loomed.
Damnation.
He
hated
that feeling, and this infuriating woman had all but lured him into experiencing it.

“I assure you that your interpretation is
totally erroneous
.”

“If so, you were careless in the extreme in writing this. Inexcusably so. Anyone who reads it would assume what I did.”

“Only someone with a very lascivious mind.” She had the audacity to say that primly.

He could not deny, much as he wanted to, that she truly looked insulted, and importuned.

Hell.
He examined the advertisement yet again. Even in the light of revelation, it still read as though a woman sought
a professional admirer. He was certain his embarrassment did not affect his judgment about that.

The awkwardness of his situation pressed on him. Explaining that he had not truly been trying to form a sexual arrangement would not rectify this either. He doubted that his intentions to teach her a lesson would find more favor with her than if his intentions had been to make her his mistress in fact.

“I must apologize, of course. However, I am obligated to say that if I thought it read that way, those young men did too. The presence of Lady Cassandra hardly helped since the allusions to her in the scandal sheets are read by all.” It incensed him that Miss Fairbourne’s poor judgment had him now making excuses and feeling like an idiot. “If there was any inappropriate flirting in that chamber back there, now you know why.”

She hesitated one scant moment. Her eyes veiled with thought for an instant. Then she was all formidable indignation again. “There was no flirting. Everyone except you comprehended that the situation was other than…well,
that
.”

“The hell they did. And if not
that
, what
is
the situation? This
special
and
pleasurable
employment requires an interesting list of qualifications.”

Another brief pause. She gathered herself into a pillar of hauteur. “I was helping Obediah hire a new exhibition hall manager. Mr. Nightingale has left, and Fairbourne’s needs a presentable man to greet patrons and such. That is why Obediah was here today too.” She gestured to the newspaper. “You will see that it perfectly describes the sort of person Obediah needs.”

His annoyance abruptly shifted to this new information. It angered him even more, but at least did not leave him feeling like a complete ass. “There is no need for a new manager, and you know it, Miss Fairbourne.”

She sat down and looked at him boldly. “I know nothing of the kind, Lord Southwaite.”

“Mr. Nightingale left because he surmised the business must close. Without your father, it has no future, thus no need for Nightingale to be replaced.”

“You may have invested, but you clearly remained ignorant of how Fairbourne’s was managed. Obediah dealt with the finances and the catalogue. He is also duly licensed. As long as he remains, Fairbourne’s can flourish. In fact, he is already well along preparing the next sale.”

How like her to decide to have this conversation now, when he wanted very much to take his leave. “Your father never spoke of Riggles having such authority.”

“It was not in his interest to reveal his reliance on others, least of all to you. Why, Obediah has an expertise to challenge Papa’s, and superb eyes for attributions. I daresay that if he had possessed any fortune, Papa would have sold half the business to
him
, not you.”

“Only he did sell it to me, and I gave no permission for another auction. Quite the opposite.”

“Your permission was not required because it is more the second half of the last auction than a completely new one. Obediah decided to hold back the better works for another day.”

Her fast retreat into self-possession aggravated his temper, just as it had the day of the auction. He saw himself during that last exchange, pacing back and forth in the storage room, barely able to move because of the paintings and table of silver.

She had so provoked him with her manner that he had not even wondered why such things would be in storage at an auction house that had just held its last sale. Now their presence there loomed large in his memory.

Those were the items held back from that auction, of course. She had spent the last week deliberately disobeying him, and continuing to plot a course that she knew he would not approve.

He had come here today to tell her that the auction house would be sold. It still needed saying. Unfortunately, the ridiculous misunderstanding with the advertisement meant
he would be fighting a rear-guard action in the battle that would inevitably ensue.

While he composed a parting remark that would salvage something of his dignity, his gaze was distracted by the light coming from the west window and how it showed a variety of tones in the brown curls on her crown. Some streaks of hair appeared almost golden. That led him to observe how the light flattered her lovely complexion in a most becoming way too.

From this position he could also see the pale skin extending down prettily to the neckline of the simple black dress that covered breasts of admirable size. The high waist of her dress, and his current perspective, suggested that she would appear quite lovely if those breasts were visible. They would be very pale and perfect like the skin he could see, and firm and round, with pink—

It was definitely past time to leave.

“It has been an afternoon for misunderstandings, Miss Fairbourne. I think it best if I return another day to discuss our business, lest there be more of them. I will tell Mr. Riggles to expect me at Fairbourne’s on occasion, so I can decide just where things stand there in light of this new information you have revealed.”

“I agree that it might be wise to put off any discussion, Lord Southwaite. However, I should make it clear right now that Fairbourne’s must not be sold.” Her shoulders squared. Her chin rose. “It cannot be sold. It
will not
be sold.”

He was not accustomed to women speaking to him in the sort of tone she had just used. Nor did he take well being the subject of the furious impertinence in her eyes. Her challenge was unmistakable and his blood urged him to answer it.

Instead he pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at it. “I regret that I do not have time to explain your errors on that topic right now.”

“I do not require more time or conversation. I merely thought it best to explain just which tune I intend to whistle with you.”

Several rude responses sprang to mind, referencing how she would whistle however he wanted before he was done with her. “I look forward to hearing more notes, at another time.” He bowed. “I will leave you now. My apologies once more, for the misunderstanding today.”

“We will never speak of it again, Lord Southwaite. By morning it will be as if it never happened, and we will forget it completely.”

T
he next morning Emma sat in the little chamber she used as a morning room, eating breakfast with Cassandra at a table near a back window that overlooked the garden. A small watch lay on the table among their plates and cutlery, showing the hour of nine thirty. Mr. Weatherby would send candidates for the situation at Fairbourne’s beginning at ten.

Cassandra had set that watch there. Whenever Emma saw it, she thought about the advertisement. That in turn led her memory to the meeting yesterday with Southwaite. She had dubbed the entire disaster the Outrageous Misconception.

Cassandra set down her fork and demanded her attention. “You have been too quiet. I think you are deliberately teasing me with your silence. You know I am curious about your caller yesterday. What did Southwaite want with you?”

“It was a simple, brief social call. He did not
want
anything.”