The Duke of Defiance (The Untouchables #5)(68)

“Yes, but most of it isn’t here or is hard to find. Just another reason Barbados is better.”

“It isn’t,” Becky said firmly. This was the only thing the girls argued about.

Evie’s eyes narrowed. “It is so. It’s warmer. It’s sunnier. It’s prettier. And it smells better.”

Jo couldn’t dispute that London possessed interesting smells. “When you go to the country this summer, Evie, you’ll see how lovely England can be.”

She didn’t look convinced. “We’ll see.”

Jo sought to divert the conversation. “My favorite sweet is trifle.”

“I like rum cake,” Evie said. “I haven’t had it since I came here, but our new cook said she would try to make it for me.” Her eyes glowed with excitement.

Becky continued drawing. “I like ices. Lemon is my favorite.”

“I like those too,” Jo said.

Evie cocked her head at Jo. “So you like pheasant and cod and carrots and trifle. Is that right?”

“Yes. I like many other things too, but those are my favorites.” Jo wondered if there was a point to this conversation. Perhaps Evie was ready to sample some new things. “Would you like to try my favorite carrot recipe?” she asked Evie. “I can have Cook make it.”

Evie winced. “Oh no. Thank you,” she hastily added. She went back to drawing.

Jo spent the afternoon with the girls, giving them a sewing lesson, and then they made up silly songs until Nora arrived to fetch Becky.

The urge to tell Nora her suspicions was almost overwhelming, but Jo managed to not say anything. Once she was gone, Bran arrived home, and again the desire to share her secret bubbled inside her like an insistent pot of water. Instead, Jo pasted a smile on her face and tried her best to behave normally.

When Mrs. Poole took over command of Evie, Bran summoned Jo to his office.

She stepped inside as he was removing his waistcoat. He was entirely familiar to her now in nothing more than his shirt on his upper half. In fact, when he was fully dressed, it gave her a bit of a start. He was incredibly handsome no matter how he was garbed, but in truth, she preferred him wearing nothing at all.

Bran leaned back on the edge of his desk, his gaze sweeping over her. He never failed to look at her with a hunger that stirred her desire. “I wanted to speak with you about decorating. Specifically, my bedchamber. I know it’s, ah, probably unseemly, but I think we’re past that, aren’t we?”

Most definitely, but the request still unsettled her. He’d asked for her opinions in various rooms—selecting a new carpet and draperies for the sitting room to remove some of his mother’s stamp, replacing the wallpaper in the dining room, which would be happening soon, again to delete his mother’s influence. In this case, however, because it was his chamber, it did feel rather unseemly. She wasn’t his wife. Furthermore, she’d never even been inside his chamber.

“I’m not sure I’d have anything of import to contribute. It is, after all, your bedchamber.”

“True, but I’d still appreciate your opinion. You’ve been instrumental in helping me make the house feel more like a home, such as adding plants. I wouldn’t have thought to do that.”

They’d added potted greenery to every room, including several palms, which Evie adored. She even had one in her chamber.

“Would you believe,” Bran continued, “that my mother suggested I import plants from Barbados for the conservatory at Knight’s Hall?” He shook his head as if he didn’t believe it.

“That’s an excellent idea.”

“I’ve been considering adding a small conservatory here to the back of the house. It would take up a bit of the garden, but then it would just be an indoor garden. What do you think?”

It was likely the closest Jo would ever get to the home he and Evie adored. Hearing them speak of it, she found herself missing it almost as much as they did, and she’d never even been there. “Evie would love it.”

“Especially if we could grow some of the fruit that she misses.” He pushed away from the desk. “I’m going to do it. Perhaps Kendal or West can recommend an architect.” He’d become rather friendly with Nora’s husband and the Duke of Clare. Jo supposed he would also have befriended Dartford and Sutton if they weren’t constantly traveling back and forth between their homes outside London. They were quite busy tending to their responsibilities in town while anxiously awaiting the arrival of their children, which were expected at any time.

He came toward her, and she flicked a gaze at the open doorway. Seeming to catch her silent cue, he paused before he got too close. Still, the air between them crackled with longing, as it always did. “Will you help me with my chamber?”

“I don’t know what I can do. What do I know of a man’s bedchamber?”

He considered her question, or seemed to. “Why are you so hesitant?”

Because it felt too intimate. She wasn’t his countess, and while she currently harbored a fervent hope that might actually come to pass, she was afraid to overstep. Indeed, maybe because it was now in the realm of possibility, she was feeling a bit superstitious. Which was absurd. Nevertheless, she couldn’t do it.

“I’m not sure it’s my place. In any case, just add a plant or two and lighten the bedclothes. You did say the darkness is what bothered you?”