Page 34 of Beguiling the Baron

Chapter 21

It was proving harder to be in close proximity to Tia than Hal had imagined. Every time he saw her, his thoughts darted up inappropriate avenues, recalling her soft breasts in his palms, the silk of her rose-petal lips as they surrendered their honeyed secrets. The vivid imaginings which laid siege to his brain were wholly unsuited to the breakfast table, and most definitely not the kind of thing one should be thinking about in the presence of a young lady’s mother.

Thus, it was with great trepidation that he allowed Tia to lead him into the Great Hall as soon as their meal was done. He wasn’t afraid of her, of course—only of his own ability to keep her at arms’ length. She was meant to be under his protection, for heaven’s sake. What kind of a rake would he be if he were to despoil an innocent under his own roof? Mary’s shade would most certainly not approve.

As he closed the door behind him, it struck him with full force he hadn’t worked in the folly yesterday, probably the first time in years he’d missed a day. Mary’s restless spirit wouldn’t approve of that either.

He gave Tia his full attention. “So, what did you want to inquire about that was best dealt with in private? You will have aroused your mama’s suspicions, you know. She’s nobody’s fool.”

Tia’s eyes scanned his face. He raised an eyebrow. Was there something wanting in his appearance? He’d done his best to live up to her expectations today—at least her expectations concerning his outward appearance.

“Is there . . . is there something you have planned I don’t know about?” Her voice sounded unusually tight, even hesitant.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, have you made any particular decisions concerning Polly’s future? Or . . . or mine?”

He smiled. Was she insecure? “Why no, I haven’t changed my mind about anything, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh.” She frowned.

He was missing something, wasn’t he? If he hadn’t shut himself off from the rest of the world these last three years, he might have been better at working out what it was. “Please tell me what’s bothering you. I’m no good at nuance.”

She chewed on her lip, and he clenched his jaw. What was to stop him sweeping her into his arms and kissing the abused flesh, or abusing it himself with all the force of his pent-up passion?

They needed to get this conversation done with quickly before he made a fool of himself.

Again.

Tia tilted her chin. “I only wanted to remind you we are taking Polly to the fair at Chippenham later this month.”

Deuce take it—he’d forgotten. He was nowhere near ready to go out in public. Especially not with Tia and Polly, when he was finding it such a struggle to keep the lid on his desires.

“I’ve considered it further and find I have deep reservations.” Hal wouldn’t go into the reasons why. That would be putting too much power into those small, female hands.

“I know you think it too frivolous when this is meant to be a house of mourning,” she countered. “But Polly is ready to move on, even if you are not. You may deny yourself pleasure if you wish, but there’s no need to starve her of enjoyment.”

They were back to that argument, were they? Perhaps it was just as well. “You’ve been in this household barely six weeks, yet you presume to know the innermost thoughts and needs of its occupants.”

“I don’t mean to belittle your feelings.” Tia came closer. “Your devotion to your wife’s memory does you credit. But anyone will tell you it’s excessive, especially when imposed on a nine-year-old girl.”

Far too close to the bone. “You’re certainly free with your opinions, Tia.”

“As you pointed out earlier, Hal, we are a family—though distantly related—and families are frank with one another, even when they know their words will hurt.”

He rolled his eyes at the terracotta statues in their niches. “Now I remember why I chose to stop speaking to people. So my words couldn’t be used against me. All the same, my mind is made up. Polly is not going to the fair.”

Tia’s expression was no longer earnest. A spark of flinty anger lurked in the depths of those melting brown eyes. “Surely the baroness would have wanted her to go about and enjoy herself? You keep the poor child locked up like a caged bird, and it does neither of you any good.”

He went cold and gave an involuntary shudder. “That was what Mary used to say.” The memory was all too painfully clear. “She said I was so bound up in my ideals, and my political machinations, I’d forgotten how to enjoy life. We didn’t go out enough, we didn’t travel, I was always working and she felt caged . . . Don’t women perceive such pleasures have to be earned and are thus all the sweeter in moderation?”

Tia frowned. “Didn’t she go on visits, or into town for the shops and the markets?”

“Oh, she did all those things—don’t mistake me. But I expected her to do them alone when I was busy. I could see no harm.” Why were they talking about Mary now? Weren’t they meant to be discussing Polly?

“You must have been busy all the time, for your wife to have made such a complaint.”

“I was, and I know it. But I was a man driven. Who wouldn’t be, with the sufferings of the slaves, the lace and blanket makers, the wounded veterans and the starving populace? I worked feverishly to bring about governmental reform—”