The Ideal Wife(24)

“Miles,” she said. She was fidgeting with her fork again and set it down. “I thought . . . When you asked me to marry you, that is, I thought . . . That is, everyone knows that you are as rich as Croesus.” She looked up at him in dismay and flushed. “And that is something else you should know about me. I sometimes do not hear the words I am going to speak until my audience is hearing them too. I did not mean to say that. It is none of my concern.”#p#分页标题#e#

“It is,” he said. “You are married to a man whom everyone knows to be as rich as Croesus. What do you want me to do for your brother and your sisters, Abby?”

“Oh,” she said, looking up at him in an agony, “I want them to live with me, Miles. The girls, that is. I want them back with me. Is there a large house at Severn Park? I will wager there is. You need never see them. I will keep them out of your way. And they will not be overly expensive, I promise you. They are not accustomed to wealth and will not be demanding. And I will not expect any expensive schooling for them. Indeed, I would not want them away from home to go to school. I would teach them myself.”

“Abby.” His hand was over hers again, his fingers curled under her palm. “Stop arguing with yourself. Of course we must have your sisters back with you. Will their great-aunt be willing?”

“Oh, yes, indeed,” she said. “She has made it very clear that they live with her only on sufferance. May they come, Miles? You will not mind terribly?”

He smiled at her and squeezed her hand.

“Oh!” she said, staring at him but not really seeing him. “Yes, of course. Oh, of course. I marvel that I did not think of it before. It could not be more perfect. If the idea had a fist, it would have punched me on the nose long since.”

He was looking amused again.

“That eel,” she said. “That toad. That snake. It was she he was molesting, not me, you know. He knew better than to try molesting me. I told him the very first time he tried smiling at me that if he did it just one more time he would be wearing his teeth in his throat.”

The earl threw back his head and shouted with laughter. “Abby,” he said, “you did not. You are quite incapable of saying anything so ungenteel. But what on earth and whom on earth are you talking about?”

“Mr. Gill,” she said. “It was Laura he was molesting because she is so very pretty and too afraid of losing her post to stand up against him.”

“And yet you lost your position?” he said.

“I told him that if . . .” She paused and flushed. “I told him to leave her alone,” she said, “and the next thing I knew, I was accused of ogling their son and was dismissed. If you had ever seen Humphrey Gill, Miles, you would know how indignant I was to be accused of such a thing. The very idea! It should be funny, but it is not.”

“And what was perfect?” he asked. “What should have formed a fist and punched you on the nose?”

“Laura is a governess,” she said. “She can teach the children and get away from that dreadful house and that lecherous man. Don’t you think it is a wonderful idea, Miles? May I ask her?”

She thought he was going to refuse. He looked at her consideringly for some time. And the silence was loud. Oh, dear, she thought, she had decided that she would remain quiet for at least a few days. But she had been prattling, hadn’t she?

Miles looked, she thought, as he had looked that first afternoon—was it only three days before?—and as he had looked the day he took her shopping. He looked handsome and immaculate and remote. It was hard to believe that he was the same man who had done those shockingly intimate things to her the night before. She could feel the color creep up her throat.

“Would it be wise?” he said. “If she is being abused, we must certainly take her away from there, Abby, or at the very least I must have a serious talk with Mr. Gill. But will she appreciate being your employee when she has been your friend, on a footing of equality with you?”

“She will be my friend,” she said, “helping me by teaching the girls what I know nothing about.”

“And living on your charity?” he said. “Will she like that, Abby?”

“Charity!” she said. “She will think no such thing. Am I living on your charity because you took me from that house and have given me a home here?” She felt the color mount all the way into her cheeks. “Am I?”

“You are my wife,” he said, “and belong with me. You have a right to my care. Don’t speak with Miss Seymour just yet. Let us take time to consider.” He smiled. “Are you always so impulsive?”