Courtesan's Kiss (12 page)

“Yes,” he said and, after a dispirited sigh, went on. “Though I would say Miss Horner is noble rather than brave.”

“Noble is an even greater virtue.”

“Do you think so? I think nobility and an inclination to act the martyr are too closely aligned. There is no denying bravery.”

Mia could argue that. But she did not want a philosophical debate. She wanted to know more about his feelings for Miss Horner. Dear God, men spent too much time on nonsense and not nearly enough on the important issues. This called for a more direct approach. “Miss Horner is a friend of yours.” She did not make it a question.

“A friend?” When he took time to think about that, Mia did not need his answer.

“Oh, I see, dear sir. She is more than a friend.”

He looked around as if someone else might be listening. Mia laughed.

“Mr. Novins, here is one advantage of a quarantine, which is a phrase I never thought I would use. Mrs. Cantwell is with the sick and Lord David is writing to the duke. There is no one else here, no servants, no other guests, not even any pets. We are completely private.” Maybe she should not have said it. Mia rushed on before he had a chance to think about that. “Please, tell me about Miss Horner.”

For a moment Mia feared she appeared too forward to the very proper Mr. Novins, but after a long pause he nodded, started to move closer to her and then stopped himself.

“Mary—” Mr. Novins reddened. “I mean, Miss Horner does the flowers for Mrs. Cantwell. She helps with the housekeeping whenever Mrs. Cantwell’s aches send her to bed. Miss Horner is one of the most generous women I know. Sometimes too generous.”

“Too generous?”

“Yes.” Now he did take just one step closer to her. “I think that generosity to self is as important as generosity to others.”

Dio mio,
he has started another philosophical discourse
. She bit her lip to keep from snapping at him and then considered what he said. “Is there a point where one can give too much?”

Mr. Novins stopped and redirected his thoughts. “If it keeps you from your own wants and needs, then it is more than one should give.”

“No,” she answered promptly. She had been through this herself. “Not if you are happy. When I nursed my father I had to give up my music lessons, but I wanted nothing more than to be with him for as long as he was alive, for every minute. In an odd way it remains one of the happiest times of my life.”

Mr. Novins looked down. Even though she could not see his expression she knew defeat when she saw it.

“The question I would ask you, sir, is if Miss Horner is happy.”

“I do not know.”

“Then ask her.”

He looked shocked at the suggestion.

“Yes, it really is that easy. You risk looking foolish, but if she is not worth that risk then your heart is not truly involved.”

He stared at the pot of flowers near the door a little longer, but looked up the moment the hall clock began to chime the hour. “Do you think Lord David will be much longer? It’s growing late and I have to make a call on one of my patients.”

Oh, Mia wanted to hit him over the head with a book. Just when the conversation moved to an issue dealing with pride the man decided, like all others, that he did not want to discuss it further.

“Miss Castellano.” Mr. Novins cleared his throat. “Can we discuss this further? Perhaps I could take a few
moments to visit with you when I come to see the patients.”

“That would not be wise, Novins,” Lord David interrupted without giving a thought to the rudeness of eavesdropping.

Mr. Novins straightened, smoothing his hair with his free hand. “You would prefer I not call? I beg your pardon, my lord, do you disapprove of me?”

Bravo
, Mia cheered silently. The surgeon had a backbone.

“You mistake me, Novins. Your help today has proved invaluable. I will put my letters with Miss Castellano’s. Pass them on to Mr. Cantwell. I will expect you tomorrow, as early as is convenient.”

Novins looked momentarily confused, then bowed to Lord David and took his leave without so much as looking at her again.

“The way you address a question without actually answering it is near brilliant, Lord David.”

“Miss Castellano, do not provoke me.”

He did not turn to face her, so she circled to see his expression. The grim turn to his mouth made her want to shake him. Arguing would not make this quarantine any more tolerable.

“I am not happy about this enforced exile either, my lord, but we must simply make the best of it.”

“That is easy enough to say when you will only miss some shopping and gossip over the tea tray. I have business in Manchester, appointments that I will miss. This is time that I cannot afford if I have any hope of success.”

“I am sure the duke will understand.” Mia stepped closer to him, close enough that she could see a muscle working in his jaw, as though he ground his teeth trying to control his temper. “The duke, he is your brother after all.”

“Yes, yes, he is.” Lord David rubbed his chin with his hand. “It’s Mr. Sebold who will take any delay as offense and may well rethink his commitment. And I cannot, will not, face Meryon with another failure.”

“Oh, yes, I see.” This fear she understood completely. “How odd that failure haunts both of us, for I dread the prospect of facing Elena with the further ruin of my reputation.”

Lord David did not have an answer for that but she could see by his expression that until now he not considered her worries at all.

“Did it never occur to you that because this quarantine leaves us together without a chaperone, some might suggest it calls for us to marry?” Mia bit her lip. That sounded much too tentative. Stepping back from him, she tried for a more authoritative tone. “I want to make it perfectly clear to you, sir. I will never, under any circumstances, marry you.”

Lord David might have been only half listening before, distracted by his own worries, but now she had his complete attention. After searching her face, he shook his head as he answered. “Miss Castellano, I cannot believe you are serious. We will not be compelled to marry because of a quarantine. Stop manufacturing difficulties. We have enough as it is.”

“That may be true but the Fates do not always play by
fair rules.” She wanted him to swear that he would not be coerced into an alliance that would be a disaster.

“Marriage,” he said again, as if it were the most preposterous idea he had heard this year. “No one would expect it of me.”

Mia should have been relieved but was not. Her temper edged up a notch. “What do you mean, no one would expect it? Are you implying that I am not lady enough to be compromised?”

“I am not.” The words were filled with such exasperation that she wanted to kick him. “I mean that no one expects me to marry
anyone
, much less a beautiful woman so much younger than I am. I assure you that you will never hear a proposal from me.”

Beautiful? He thought her beautiful. Mia smiled, despite her ill humor. “You are saying that just to make me happy.”

“Miss Castellano, I have more to worry about right now than how to make you happy.”

“Which shows how mistaken you can be, Lord David. We will be living in very close quarters for the next week. Not as close as when you were aboard ship, supposedly on your way to shipwreck in Mexico, but we will be living closer than most married people do.

“Most husbands spend the day at their clubs, and if they do attend the same parties as their wives everyone knows how gauche it is to be seen with your spouse.”

He pursed his lips. She reached over and tapped his cheek lightly with one of her hands. “Indeed, sir, keeping me happy is very much in your interest.” Mia twirled
around, making sure that her skirt brushed up against his leg, and swept through the nearest door. Oh, she loved that sort of exit and so rarely had a chance to use it anymore.

Let him think that she was annoyed. It was better than admitting that touching him, that the barest tap on his cheek, had sent such a surge of awareness through her that running away seemed the wisest option.

T
HE DOOR SHE PASSED THROUGH
, quite mindlessly, led to the kitchen. With a quick study of the foreign space she found fruit, cheese, and bread and made herself a simple supper that she took up the back stairs to her room.

Settling at the small table near the window, she enjoyed the view while she ate, until she saw Lord David walking slowly across the lawn toward the copse of trees where the stream ran.

If he had not considered her worries, she was honest enough to admit, at least with herself, that she had not given a thought to his, either. He was the brother of a duke. He had the choice to pursue nothing but his boxing and other trivial activities so favored by men, but he had apparently chosen to do something more with his time.

If music, and the much-missed pianoforte, had made
her days more meaningful, what had Lord David found that was worth the risk of failure?

Lord David was out of sight and Mia stared at the trees swaying in the evening breeze. Fatigue made her bones ache, but no one went to bed before the sun had fully set.

Mia counted all the evenings she had longed for the solitude of the country, when the noise of the city kept her awake. Now the extreme quiet of this almost empty house would have the same effect as the noise of the city. She would never be able to sleep, or would awaken in the middle of the night.

Lord David came back in sight, smoking one of his awful cigarillos. As he walked toward the house, he looked neither left nor right, but at the ground before him, obviously lost in thought. Even from a distance he looked strong and rugged, more like a land steward considering plantings than a gentleman.

She had never met anyone like him. He must have slept through the part of his education that included the right way to treat a lady, to show that you were interested in her appearance, what she thought, whether she needed a shawl or a fan.

It should annoy her that he did not seem at all interested in those things. Instead she found it intriguing.

Which was ridiculous, and a sure sign of boredom. She would dispel Lord David, his appeal, and his worries from her mind. She had to find something to do that would make her forget all about him for a few hours at least.

Despite Mrs. Cantwell’s insistence that she could not help with the patients, Mia found her way to the servants’ quarters in the attic. There were two rooms only, set up as dormitories, one for each sex. They were unoccupied except for the coachman and the sick groom. Despite the large well-aired space Mia could feel sickness in the air, an atmosphere of aching pain overlaid with both fear and determination in both patients and nurses.

Mrs. Cantwell demonstrated to the one healthy groom how to care for the two sick men. He watched her with a reassuring intensity. “Use damp cloths to wipe the fever from their faces and hands. It eases their discomfort. And you must keep them covered even when they complain. …” Her voice trailed off when she realized she no longer had the groom’s attention.

When Mrs. Cantwell saw who had come to visit the sick, she stood abruptly and tried to shield the two patients from Mia’s view.

“Mrs. Cantwell, I know you think this is wrong, but please. I have been caring for the sick since I was twelve when I nursed my father through his last months. There is nothing I do not know about caring for the sick. I could help. Truly.” How strange to have to plead to do such work. Why did no one want to see her as anything more than an ornament?

“Absolutely not in my house, miss. We will manage quite well for the few days this will last.”

But what if it is more than a few days? Mia did not voice her fear but knew that if any of the rest of them took ill, the rules of a civil house would no longer apply. For
now she felt she had no choice and left, disappointed that the woman could not be convinced.

With an apology for intruding in the sickroom, an apology Mrs. Cantwell accepted as brusquely as Mia offered it, she went back to her bedchamber, gathered up her plate and utensils, and headed for the kitchen to wash them.

This time it occurred to her how unique it was to place the kitchen on the main floor, in a wing attached to the back of the house. Who had come up with this idea? Indeed, it would be so much easier to move food to the dining room. No stairs to travel, no dumbwaiter to deal with.

Besides the sink and washing cloth, she knew nothing about kitchens and no magic descended endowing her with knowledge of how to cook anything, even something as simple as baked eggs or chicken broth.

She washed, dried, and shelved the dishes with the rest of the ironstone the servants used and was taking a casual inventory of the pantry, out of nothing more than curiosity, when Lord David came in from the outside, still smoking his cigarillo.

“Miss Castellano!” His pleasure at seeing her was as shocking as it was sincere. “I was just thinking about you.”

“You were?” She smiled and thought that a little flirtation might be fun.

“Yes, you surely know more about the kitchen than I do.”