Dangerous in Diamonds - Madeline Hunter [9]
“I promise that it was. I have no interest in Miss Johnson. The fact is, Mrs. Joyes, if I were of a mind to seduce any female in this house, it would be you.”
By eight that evening, Castleford was concluding that someone putting a gun to his temple would be a mercy.
The exquisite Mrs. Joyes had dodged him all afternoon. First he saw to his horse—a chore he had not performed in more years than he could count. By the time he finished he was in a sour mood and grousing privately that Mrs. Joyes had better be worth all the trouble that his impulsive and determined desire for her was causing.
After that, he was left to his own devices in her small, feminine library. The presence of women all but drenched this house, and their light steps and quiet voices just out of sight and just out of hearing hardly helped his concentration on the tome he chose to pass the time.
Finally, the housekeeper, a scowling little woman named Mrs. Hill, dark of eye and sharp of beak beneath her cap’s lace edge, showed him to a bedchamber decorated in feminine yellows and blues. He prepared for a casual dinner.
To his delight, Katherine did not attend, so he was alone with his hostess. He settled down, anticipating a lively exchange while he lured Mrs. Joyes into more high color and, once all progressed as he intended, another outburst of passion. One that he would ensure went on a good long while.
He politely asked early on after the gardens and this business called The Rarest Blooms. A mistake, that. He had listened to the ensuing detailed explanations for two hours now, barely managing not to yawn. Mrs. Hill served a simple meal of soup, cold ham, and finally a trifle probably whipped up just because he had intruded.
Mrs. Joyes remained a chilled column of winter composure the whole time. Etiquette impeccable and expression serene, she entertained him with grace, speaking in a slow monotone that made his eyes want to cross. The result was that he found himself imprisoned in exactly the kind of tediously proper congress that he loathed. It was so unbearable that he even gave up wondering what the woman looked like naked.
It was time to take matters in hand and make things more interesting. Since Mrs. Joyes was of considerable interest, he forced the conversation onto her.
“I am told that you are a widow,” he said when she finally paused after naming every damned variety of verbena grown in her greenhouse.
“My husband died in the war.” She lowered her eyes as she replied, to signal that this topic should be avoided.
Perhaps it should be, but he never learned anything useful if he obeyed such cues. “Were you married long?”
“Less than two years.”
“He was at war most of that time, I assume.”
“I followed the drum, so we were at least together.”
“Still, how unfair for you, to be made a widow before you barely had time to enjoy the pleasures of marriage.”
She gazed at him so blandly that one might think she had missed the sensual allusion and the way it pushed a door ajar just a tad. She was good, he had to give her that. She wore her composure like a shield. Getting her to drop it, even for an instant, was turning into a challenge.
He in turn gazed around the chamber. “Did none of our mutual friends ever think it odd that an army captain left you a property like this? That is what they assume, isn’t it? That this came to you through your husband.”
“I suppose they might assume that. I was never asked about it.”
Vague memories regarding references to Mrs. Joyes had been emerging since he learned her identity outside. “Is that why you have that peculiar rule here, that no one pry into anyone’s past? So no one would ask, and you would not have to explain?”
A few of those dark glints sparked in her eyes. She did not favor this topic. On the other hand, he was not being bored by lists of flowers anymore, itemized by their Latin names, no less. That had not been an accident, he decided. She had deliberately tried to numb him senseless. His reference to seduction must have put her on her