Page 32 of Beguiling the Baron

Chapter 20

The baron hadn’t joined Tia and Mama for luncheon, nor for dinner later the same day. This had been an enormous relief to Tia, convinced she’d thrown herself at him like a complete wanton, no better than the meanest doxy in Selbury.

An uncomfortable night had been spent fretting about her terrible lapse of self-control, partly because she didn’t know how she could live with herself. Mostly because she didn’t know how she could live with Hal either, certainly not without wanting to progress what had started between them.

She bolted down her breakfast in hopes of being finished before he came down, needing time to ascertain what on earth she was going to do.

“I saw the baron yesterday evening,” Mama remarked casually, glancing up from a letter she’d been reading. “He’d had his hair cut and appeared most presentable.”

Tia’s cup rattled back onto its saucer, splashing tea on her hand.

“What is it?” Mama put down the letter and eyed her closely.

Tia grabbed a napkin to mop up the spill. “Nothing at all. The cup slipped.”

“Tell me. I always know when you’re hiding something.”

I very much hope you don’t. But cutting Ansford’s hair was a minor misdemeanor compared with her other sins. “I cut it, Mama,” she confessed.

“You?”

“You must admit it needed cutting.”

“I can’t argue there. But it was outrageously improper, Galatea. How could you not know?”

“Nothing happened.” Tia hoped the heat flooding her cheeks would be put down to the warm day, and the hot cup of tea.

“Not in front of his valet. Who was present, I assume? But it doesn’t make your behavior any more acceptable.”

Tia had to pray Mama didn’t think to question Symons about the incident. “Ansford’s not that sort of man anyway.” Although she’d proved herself to be that sort of lady.

“One can never tell with a dark horse like Lord Ansford,” came the crisp reply. “I find him impossible to read. Don’t you?”

“I think I may be growing accustomed to his ways.”

Her mother eyed her keenly. “Good. But don’t ever let the man take advantage of your innocence, child. If it seems he’s interested in you in the wrong sort of way, if he makes you at all uncomfortable, we’ll simply save up the allowance he gives us and leave. We’re part of Society again, no longer alone and friendless. Why, I have received another invitation from Lady Douglas only this morning.”

Tia was no longer listening. Go? Leave Foxleaze?

Leave Hal?

Her stomach contracted painfully. “There’s no need to leave, is there? Besides, if Ansford were to develop a tendre for me, would you really object? Aren’t all mothers keen to see their daughters wed—”

“Good morning, Mrs. Wyndham, Miss Wyndham. I trust I find you well this morning?”

Hal.

The atmosphere hummed like a bowstring. After mumbling a response, Mama hid herself behind her letter while Tia dabbed her napkin at an invisible spot on the tablecloth.

How much had he heard? Wretched man. Why couldn’t he make a noise when he approached, like any thoughtful person?

There was an awkward silence while Hal’s chair was drawn up for him and his paper set by his elbow. Tia finally dared raise her eyes, fearing to see a knowing look on his face. If he thought for one moment she wanted, nay, expected, him to offer for her, she would die of shame.

Her heart gave a lurch when she saw him.

The haircut had truly transformed him from ascetic hermit to resplendent Adonis, perfect in form and feature, bright-eyed, intelligent, and devilishly attractive. He’d shaved, dressed with care—albeit in his habitual black—and observed his companions with interest rather than indifference, with pleasure rather than anger.

He looked, in fact, very nearly . . . normal. If anyone so devastatingly handsome could be called such.