Imprudence (The Custard Protocol #2)(43)

“There’s nothing else I should know about Egypt? No other personal connections?”

Quesnel stopped, arrested. “You think it was a woman? You think I flew leagues out of my way for a dalliance?”

Rue blinked at him. Actually, the thought hadn’t occurred to her but it was possible. He was the type to dash across continents in pursuit of a soprano or opera dancer – or something else prone to humming and gyrating about.

“I assure you, my acquaintance in Egypt is quite grandfatherly.”

“I wasn’t… that is… I didn’t…”

Quesnel grinned, showing his dimples. “I like to think you might be a little jealous.”

Rue sighed. She was terrible at playing the coquette. That was supposed to be one of the things he taught her. “Have I reason to be jealous?”

“Certainly not.”

“Is that because you’ve not had the will or the opportunity?”

Quesnel stopped smiling and put down his fork. He came around the table to kneel next to her chair.

“Chérie, I am not so much a rake as I have been painted. Every experience of mine has been my sole focus at the time, to the exclusion of all others. Do you take my meaning?”

Rue nodded. Thrilled a little by both his statement and his proximity. That meant she would get to keep him for herself, while it lasted.

He continued, still un-Quesnel-like in his seriousness. “But you are.”

“I’m what?” Rue was suddenly interested in crumbling her toast.

“Innocent. You’re bold and brash and very attractive, so I sometimes forget how innocent you are. I do not want to hurt you, chérie.”

This was getting too earnest for Rue. “No danger there. I assure you, my heart is not available.”

Was that disappointment she saw flicker in his eyes? If so, it quickly changed to avarice.

“But the rest of you is?”

Rue grinned. “Most assuredly. I believe I was promised French lessons. You accepted the position and I should like to learn the details and activities, not to mention vocabulary.”

“Shall we start with some terms, then?”

Rue nearly choked in surprise. “Now? Over breakfast? Isn’t that rather daring?”

“First lesson, chérie – nothing mixes better than food and French.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Oh, yes.” He stood, trailing two fingers along her wrist, no doubt feeling exactly how her pulse fluttered.

Rue reminded herself not to be scared of Quesnel’s lessons. Rather like breakfast, most of the population engaged in such things. Rue had confronted unknown beasts in Indian jungles and escaped airship battles. She wasn’t scared of a little French!

He returned to his chair. “We should, perhaps, institute some rules of engagement?”

Rue considered. “Flirting is established. I should like to continue kissing as well.”

“And we already know that language lessons are involved.”

Rue thought that had been euphemistic. Now she realised there might be proper terms for actions and even anatomy. “I’m afraid that’s part of the difficulty. I don’t know how to establish rules because I don’t know what to request. I won’t know until you tell me.” Rue took a big breath. “I think it likely that children would be an embarrassment for me and an inconvenience for you. We’d have to marry, you know, and I don’t believe either of us wishes that outcome.”

If Quesnel was surprised by her directness, he didn’t show it. Although he did look… what? Wistful?

“No, of course not. So I am safe in the assumption that you would like to experiment with the kinds of things that might cause children?”

Rue considered his kisses and his gentle hands. “Yes, I would.” Her face felt hot.

“Capital. Now, I’m capable of protecting you up to a point. Once we reach that point, I will explain the risks. But there are many things that can be done that are of no danger whatsoever. And great fun, I might add.” He finished his breakfast and pushed away the plate.

“I thought there might be, or people wouldn’t make such a fuss over it.” Rue refilled his tea. “All those Roman poets.” Rue’s hand wasn’t entirely steady but she managed to pour in a manner that Primrose would deem acceptable.

Quesnel took his cup with a chuckle. “Have you been reading Catullus?”

“A little. Kissing is awfully nice. Although we ought to stop doing it in public, especially with my mother around. And I don’t want to corrupt decklings.”

“If we allow ourselves regular kissing in private, we should be better able to resist traumatising the masses.” His tone said he was humouring her.

“Is that so? You see, I’m learning already.”

“Shall we try it and see?”

Quesnel set down his teacup, stood, and rounded the table towards her.

Rue pushed back her chair; luckily it didn’t tip in her eagerness. He gave her a hand up, pulling her smoothly into his arms.

“Now, let us see. If I put my hands there, you could put yours there.” He grabbed her shoulders, sliding one hand to her upper back while placing her fingers at his waist.

Rue was never daunted for long. She slid them immediately to the tight stretch of trousers over his posterior. “Not here?”