Where Dreams Begin(26)

“At times the guests become very tired at my parties,” Bronson said to the child, his tone matter-of-fact. “I was merely helping them to rest.”

“Oh, I see,” Rose said brightly.

Holly managed to find her voice. “I believe my daughter is finished with her breakfast, Maude.”

“Yes, milady.” The maid rushed forward in a panic to gather up the child and quit the mortifying scene.

“But Mama,” Rose protested, “I haven't even—”

“You may take your plate to the nursery,” Holly said firmly, seating herself as if nothing untoward had occurred. “Right this minute, Rose. I want to discuss something with Mr. Bronson.”

“Why don't I ever get to eat with the big people?” the child asked sullenly, accompanying Maude from the room.

Bronson seated himself beside Holly, his wary gaze fastened on her disapproving face. “Apparently the servants have been talking,” he muttered.

Holly made her voice as cool and brisk as possible. “Mr. Bronson, there will be no more ‘helping ladies to rest’ at this house as long as we are in residence, in ones or twos, or any number. I will not have my daughter subjected to an unwholesome atmosphere. Moreover, although the servants owe you respect as a matter of course, it would help immensely if you behave in a manner worthy of their respect.”

Rather than look ashamed or embarrassed, Bronson returned her steady stare with a growing scowl. “Your task is to teach me a few points of etiquette, my lady. How I conduct my private life is my own concern.”

She picked up her fork and pushed a few yellow egg curds around her plate. “Unfortunately, you cannot separate your private life from your public one, sir. No one is able to check his morals at the door like a hat, and pick them up when he leaves.”

“I can.”

Amazed by his cool assertion, Holly let a disbelieving laugh escape. “Apparently you like to think so!”

“Don't try to tell me that every moment of your private life could stand up to public scrutiny, my lady. Hasn't your halo ever slipped just a little?”

Discovering that she was gripping her fork as if it were a defensive weapon, Holly set the utensil down. “What exactly are you asking?”

“You've never had too much to drink? Gambled all your pin money? Cursed like a sailor when you can't hold your temper? Laughed in church? Said something nasty about a close friend behind her back?”

“Well, I…” Earnestly she searched her memory, conscious of his expectant stare. “I don't think so.”

“Never?” Bronson seemed perturbed by the answer. “Spent too much at the dressmaker's?” he asked, as if hoping beyond hope that she had once committed some grievous mistake.

“Well, there is one thing.” Holly smoothed her gown over her lap. “I am much too fond of cakes. I am quite capable of eating an entire plate of them at one sitting. I can't seem to help myself.”

“Cakes,” he muttered with obvious disappointment. “That's your only fault?”

“Oh, if we're discussing weaknesses of character, I have several,” she assured him. “I am self-indulgent, opinionated and I battle a great streak of vanity. But that is not the point of this conversation, Mr. Bronson. We are talking about your personal habits, not mine. And the fact is, if you wish to have the appearance and manner of a gentleman, you must never allow your lower nature to rule over your higher one.”

“I don't have a higher nature, Lady Holland.”

“No doubt it is more convenient—and pleasurable—to pretend so. However, a man is never his own master until he is able to control his lustful impulses. And when such behavior is excessive, it causes degeneration of the mind and body.”

“Degeneration,” he repeated gravely. “With all due respect, I've never noticed any harmful effects, my lady.”

“Well, you will someday. It is unhealthful for a man to indulge any excessive appetites, whether for food, spirits or…or…”

“Sexual activity?” he supplied helpfully.

“Yes. Therefore I hope that you will practice temperance in all areas from now on. I think you will be pleased to discover the positive effects it will have on your character.”

“I'm not a choirboy, Lady Holland. I'm a man, and men have certain needs. If you care to refer to our contract, there was no mention of the activities in my own bedroom—”

“Then if you must have your harlots, bring them elsewhere,” Holly said. Although she did not raise her voice, it was threaded with steel. “Out of consideration for your mother and sister, and my daughter…and me. I insist on an atmosphere of respect and decency, and I will not remain under the same roof with such goings-on.”

Their gazes held for a challenging moment. “You're telling me that I can't lie with a woman in my own house,” he said, as if he couldn't believe her audacity. “In my own bed.”

“Not as long as I am residing here, sir.”

“A man's sexual habits have nothing to do with being a gentleman. I could tell you the names of at least a dozen so-called ‘gentlemen,’ highly respected souls all, who are frequent guests at the same bordellos I choose to visit. In fact, I could tell you the most remarkable practices they are known for—”