Page 5 of Scandalous Nights With the Earl

‘You were lucky to find a wife who suited you so entirely and I am sure she must have felt that way, too. If my late husband were to observe me from his place in the afterworld he would no doubt be most displeased.’

‘And why would that be, Mrs St Claire?’

‘Because rules and manners and absurdly strict social mores are things I no longer care to adhere to.’

‘You are a rebel?’

‘No, I think that word holds too much anger. I would describe myself as wishing to simply be happy, which in itself is a much gentler life choice.’

‘And are you? Simply happy?’

She looked at him closely, seeing the chips of blue in his eyes smudged by silver. ‘Yes, I think I am.’

A bolt of heat raced through Phillip, a feeling so unfamiliar he momentarily felt dizzy.

Her eyes were not just gold. There was copper there, too, and traces of hazel, and under the boldness sat a question. The question of possibility? Phillip could not believe she might mean it as such as he sought to diffuse his shock.

‘Happiness is a much undervalued commodity, I think.’ And he meant what he said, though the words in this context seemed at best trite.

‘You say that as if perhaps you have known too much sorrow.’

‘There are varying degrees of sadness, Mrs St Claire. A husband who was so unsuitable must have left you with at least some sense of melancholy.’

She nodded, the thickness of her dark hair coming forward. ‘It did, indeed, but it was an experience that made me decide after Lionel was gone not to waste the chances presented to me for the rest of my years.’

‘Chances?’ The blood pounded in his head.

‘I take delight in life where I find it and without apology.’ Her glance was direct and candid.

‘You are most brave, Mrs St Claire, and I admire you for it. Do you take these chances often?’

She smiled then but did not answer. The folds of fabric in her gown seemed loosened, whether by accident or design he could not tell, but the pale glow of the skin at her neck was beguiling.

He moved his left hand to his thigh and felt the grip of it. There was a dimple in the middle of her chin and her lips were full and shapely. Once, years ago, when first they had married, Gretel had made an effort to look interested in the act of sexual attraction, but after a little while…

Comparisons were unhelpful and unfair. He didn’t quite know what to say in return but couldn’t leave it, either.

‘Do you think that such risk is always a wise thing?’

She laughed. ‘One never knows until one tries it, I suppose.’

He heard the siren’s voice in her answer even as desire ran through him but he was not a man who could let sense go so entirely.

‘Just before my wife died she asked me to be faithful to her memory.’

‘Forever?’

‘Yes. I think that was the gist of it.’

‘What a horrible request.’

He began to laugh and thought as he did so that the sound felt rusty. ‘You are not a believer, then, in the concept of eternal love, Mrs St Claire?’

She shook her head. ‘Oh, on the contrary, my lord, should there be in this world a man who would suit me eternally I would relish it. But I think it highly unlikely.’

‘How so?’

‘Because I am not looking for such permanency. My friends would tell you I shy away from any commitment whatsoever and it is a truth, but after living with a man who was unsuitable in every way possible one becomes careful.’