Seven Minutes in Heaven(46)

“Do you enjoy living in the city year-round?” he asked, taking Eugenia’s arm.

“I grew up in the country, and I do miss it,” she said. “But Snowe’s is in London, and I find it hard to escape.”

As soon as they were seated in a snug private parlor, the innkeeper entered, accompanied by a serving man carrying a bowl of fruit and a platter of cheese. “Good evening, madam, sir.”

Before his eyes, Eugenia, who had been smiling in a fashion that made Ward want to snatch her into his lap, straightened her back and transformed into a perfect impersonation of a lady.

The innkeeper responded to her airs and graces as if she were an actual duchess, bowing and scraping and generally making an obsequious ass of himself as Ward looked on.

Eugenia’s uncle was with the Thames River Police; she could not have come from the gentry, let alone the aristocracy. And yet she would effortlessly fit into one of his father’s dinner parties.

“Governesses teach their charges far more than letters and sums, don’t they?” Ward asked, following his train of thought after the innkeeper left. “After all, children come into the world as little savages. I know I did.”

“Left to their own devices, yes,” Eugenia agreed. “Lizzie and Otis seem to be in a class of their own.” She twinkled at him. “Perhaps naughtiness runs in the family.”

“Among other crimes, I refused to sleep the night in my own bed—as do my siblings, by the way. Apparently, I told endless stories and bored everyone around me. I also sucked my thumb, or so my stepmother tells me; I don’t remember that.”

She laughed. “There’s nothing unusual about that.”

Their eyes caught and his head swam. She was so damn beautiful, and so intoxicating. He wanted to kiss her again.

He cast around for another subject. “Do you see your family often?”

Despite himself, his voice was hard. If he ever met her father, he would have words with him about those rats. What kind of man raises a daughter in those conditions?

“Not often enough,” Eugenia said with a warm smile. “But in fact this unplanned journey has caused me to make up my mind to travel from your house to my father’s and to take at least a week away from Snowe’s. Perhaps longer.” She fiddled with her knife. “Do you know, I had the oddest idea this morning.”

“What was that?”

“I might hand over the registry to my assistant, Miss Lloyd-Fantil.”

Ward looked up from the apple he was peeling. “You would give up control of Snowe’s?”

“I would like a new challenge,” she said, looking as unruffled as a lady talking of learning a new dance step.

“I can be challenging,” Ward said.

The smile that blossomed on Eugenia’s face made lust rise in his body like a tidal wave. He wanted her with an absurd ferocity. The thought of bedding her was like a prickling spur that made his balls ache.

Hell, he didn’t need a bed. The wall would do. The table.

No.

“In fact, you appear to be offering no challenge at all,” she said, eyes glinting mischievously.

That was true.

“I’m at your service,” he agreed. He leaned over and dropped a kiss on her mouth and the touch of her lip sang through his bones like fire.

“Tell me more about your childhood,” Ward said. He twisted his wrist and the last bit of peel fell from his apple.

“My mother died when I was very young, before I knew her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ward said, giving her the fruit. “I never knew my mother, either. My grandmother, the Duchess of Gilner, handed me over to my father when I was a mere infant.”

She accepted the apple. “Why do I feel as if the Holy Cheese is actually the Garden of Eden, and you’re playing the role of serpent?”

“Nonsense,” he said. Anything they did together wouldn’t be sinful.

“The duchess gave you up because her daughter gave birth to you out of wedlock? I have known courtesans who would never do that, unless driven to it by the extremes of poverty.”

“You are acquainted with courtesans? As in, ladies of the night?”

“In my youth,” Eugenia said placidly. “My father is generously disposed toward those rejected by conventional society.”

Not only rats, but strumpets as well? It was no wonder that Eugenia was determined to play the lady. “One might argue that the Duchess of Gilner saved my life. My mother was markedly unstable.” He cleared his throat. “Were the courtesans part of your father’s household, along with the rats?”

“I would hate to think that you are implying any similarity,” Eugenia said, her voice clear and strong. “I was brought up not to disparage others, whether for their profession or their parents’ marital status.”