“If I told you the truth, the complete sequence of my male thoughts, I’m afraid you might try to hit me over the head and toss me down the cliff.”
She turned in his arms and grinned impishly up at him. “What did you mean by ’despite everything’?”
“Well, there is still the unresolved puzzle over your malformed toe.”
“Oh, I see Mr. Rinsey coming and he’s still perspiring profusely. Poor man, what will you tell him?”
“The man has excellent timing,” Rafael said, “at least for you.”
Rafael, with a wink to Victoria, left her a moment to speak to Mr. Rinsey. He made an offer on the property. Mr. Rinsey, mopping his perspiring brow with a fine linen handkerchief, said he would visit with the Demoreton family on the morrow and give them Captain Carstairs’s offer. “They are currently living in Newquay. If I may venture to say so, Captain Carstairs, my feeling is that they will accept. You and your wife are still at Drago Hall?”
Given the affirmative and a firm handshake, Mr. Rinsey took his leave. As they walked back to their carriage, Rafael said, “Like that first De Moreton, perhaps we also will begin a dynasty that will endure hundreds of years.”
“You are a very grand thinker. A dynasty.”
“Indeed. That will require your cooperation, of course, and your, er, fertility.”
She poked him in the ribs, then tickled him, but his lecherous grin never slipped.
It very quickly became obvious to Victoria that Rafael was anxious to return to St. Austell and Drago Hall. They took their leave of the property after Flash, who hadn’t waited to have his opinion asked, told Rafael that he approved of the cove’s roost a long as Rafael didn’t insist that he, Flash, remain here with him for more than six months out of the year.
“A Proserpine arrangement,” Victoria said, grinning.
As that sounded like a poisonous sort of foreign snake to Flash, he immediately said that was the furthest thing from his mind.
At least, Victoria thought that evening when they at last reached Drago Hall at ten o’clock, we will be sleeping in our darkened nest again. Only Ligger was up to greet them. Rafael quickly dismissed him, and taking Victoria’s arm, assisted her upstairs.
“You’re exhausted,” he said as they climbed the staircase. He sounded worried, which surprised her. She didn’t realize that there were shadows beneath her eyes and that her face was as pale as Cook’s clabbered milk. Flash had set a brisk pace, and her stomach, none too pleased with a lunch of cold beef and dressed cucumber, had rebelled.
“And no,” he added, a slight smile creasing his lips, “I won’t let you have your way with me tonight. Tomorrow morning, however—well, that’s an entirely different matter.”
That sounded a fine plan to Victoria. Only Rafael didn’t know that Victoria had no intention of allowing him to strip her and love her in full daylight.
If Rafael was at all angered by her early-morning defection, he gave no hint of it. Indeed, he spent little time with her the following day.
Victoria polished silver under Ligger’s benign direction, assisted with floral arrangements, helped the footman carry a potted palm into the ballroom, and made three trips into St. Austell for immediate necessities, those items deemed by Elaine to be of premier importance.
On her third trip into St. Austell, this one made on Toddy’s back, she saw Rafael coming from Dr. Ludcott’s house on Raymond Street. What the devil was he doing there? Was he ill? Her forehead creased with worry. She approached him a few minutes later, waving wildly to get his attention.
His look of abstraction was replaced by an expression of chagrin at the unexpected sight of her, immediately becoming a wolfish welcome. “You look lovely, Victoria. Elaine isn’t working you too hard, is she?”
“Not at all. Why were you visiting Dr. Ludcott? You’re not ill, are you?”
He looked suitably surprised and Victoria relaxed. Then he looked evasive. She quickly held up her hand. “No, if you’re not going to tell me the truth, don’t bother making up an elaborate tale.”
“It wouldn’t be all that elaborate,” he said. “I’m only a man, after all.”
“Very well, it doubtless concerns this Hellfire Club business, and poor Joan Newdowns’ rape. Now, which gown shall I wear to the ball?”
“The rich cream silk,” he said without hesitation. “You look wonderful in it . . . and yes, it does— but I don’t wish to speak of it, all right?”
“All right,” she agreed on a sigh.
“What are you doing here?”
“Another errand for Elaine. I’m to see the caterer, Mrs. Cutmere.”
They parted company, and Victoria looked over her shoulder to see Rafael stroll into the Gribbin Head Inn. Perhaps he simply wanted to catch up on local gossip, certainly all the loquacious fellows in St. Austell could be found in the Gribbin Head, but that didn’t seem at all likely. Oh, no, her husband had much more in his kettle than just plain water. Much more.