“Doing what?”
“This,” she said, motioning to the table with a sweep of her hand. She would have knocked over his glass if he hadn’t snatched it back in time.
“You feel a sense of responsibility for your sisters. Do you deny it?”
“I don’t.”
She swallowed her wine and licked her lips. His gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered. A tingle raced down her spine. Did he want to kiss her again? Her face heated at the thought. Did she want him to?
“You are more admirable than you lead others to believe,” she said. “You must care for your sisters if you are going through this with me. I also suspect some of my instructions make you recall life in your earlier days.”
“It’s been years. I have grown rusty.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t complain of my commission. I would never have been able to repay the six thousand pounds otherwise.”
His expression darkened. “You shouldn’t have to. Coming to the Raven Club was downright dangerous, even though your reckless visit benefited me.”
“That’s being a bit hypocrit—” She couldn’t get her tongue to properly say the word, so she continued. “Foolish.”
“If you were married, you would not have to worry about your household. It would benefit your younger brother as well. He’d have a strong male influence, and you would not have to worry about his schooling.”
By strong male influence she knew he meant anyone other than their wastrel father. A part of her wanted to defend her father, but she couldn’t argue against Ian’s logic.
Still, his assumptions irritated her and she glowered at him. “I don’t want to marry just anyone. I’ll have you know there were interested gentleman, but I refused to marry the Viscount Thorp who is in his late sixties and searching for his fourth wife. And the Marquess of Haverton is grossly overweight and has false teeth. I want to marry for love.”
“For love?”
She set her goblet down with a thunk. “What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s not a requirement.”
“I’m quite aware of the desirable requirements.” She held up a forefinger. “Wealthy.” She held up a second finger. “Titled.” She held up a third, and hesitated as she tried to come up with another trait, then she sat up and said, “And faithful.”
He arched a dark eyebrow. “Faithful?”
“Yes, ladies do not want unfaithful rogues for husbands.”
“I do believe you added that just for yourself,” he said.
“Why would you think that?”
“I suspect many women would be willing to overlook that trait as long as the first two fingers you held up are met. I suspect you have someone in mind that meets all three requirements.”
She raised her hand and yawned. “Perhaps.”
“Who? You’re not thinking of the Viscount Newton’s youngest son, are you? After all, he’s who your father prefers for you.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. The viscount’s fifth son didn’t possess the first trait: wealth. He needed a woman with a dowry.
“What about you? Are you looking for a wife?” she asked.
“No. I’ll never marry.”
“Never? Or do you mean not until you enjoy your bachelorhood for a few more years?”
“I mean never. I’m already married to the Raven Club.”
“That’s ludicrous. You can’t be married to a gambling club. It’s nothing but an object…a place…a thing. And not a moral one, if you ask me.”
“What I mean to say is that I’m committed to it.”
She felt a bit lightheaded and blamed the alcohol for her loose tongue. “You believe that means there is no room for a wife or for love?”
“I suppose that’s what I’m suggesting.”
She leaned on the table. “Hmm. Well, I dislike gambling halls. I wouldn’t want a husband who owned one.”
Ian pushed back his chair and stood. “We should end for the night.”
Grace blinked at his abrupt tone. She’d always been the one to end their lessons. Had the topic of marriage upset him? Or had he grown weary of their time together tonight already? And why did that thought distress her?
Chapter Twelve
Ian stared at the incredibly appealing woman before him.
Incredibly appealing and intoxicated.
At first, the wine had helped to relax her. She hadn’t been tense around him and seemed to enjoy their conversation. He’d enjoyed it, too. The library offered a charming and calming setting as well. But she’d imbibed a bit too much, and now he was intent on seeing her safely home.
He stood behind her as she pushed back her chair. “You’re foxed. I will see you home.”
She turned to glare at him. “I am not foxed.”
He held her arm as she stood. “If you say so.”
She leaned on him, and he lowered his head until her hair tickled his chin. She smelled like lavender. His hold on her arm tightened as they left the library and descended the stairs. The side of her breast brushed his arm, and his heart thundered in his chest. He clenched his teeth to maintain his control.
Once they reached the bottom step, Ian didn’t bother to call for Jenkins but left Grace briefly to fetch her cloak himself. When he returned, she was leaning on the bannister, a bemused expression on her face. He quickly wrapped the cloak around her shoulders.
Grace giggled. “You don’t have to hold me so tightly, Ian. I’m perfectly capable of walking on my own.” She pulled away and immediately swayed.
He was back by her side in a flash and hauled her to his side.
She hiccupped. “That’s even tighter and—”
“Bloody hell,” he muttered beneath his breath. “Enticing enough to tempt any red-blooded male.” She was distracting him, and he realized too late that he’d cracked open the front door rather than leave through the servant’s entrance through the kitchen.
“That’s not the way a gentleman speaks to a lady.”
Her full lips pouted, and his gaze immediately lowered. Christ, the woman had a mouth made for sin. “Did the viscount’s son speak like that to you?”
“Of course not.” She barely knew the man.
“Then he’s not the man for you.”
Her eyes widened and she clutched his arm. “You don’t even know him. How can you judge him?”
“I’m an excellent judge of character. Years of running a gambling house has taught me. The sons of the beau monde are born with silver spoons in their mouths and nothing has changed.”
“You were born in the bosom of aristocracy.”
“I left and chose to earn my own living. Can you say the same about any of them?”
“No. I supposed not, but my options are limited.”
Ian scoffed. “I thought you said you’d only marry for love. Is there someone you do love?” He tensed, waiting for her response. A muscle tightened in his chest.
“Not yet.”
Ian shouldn’t care, but her response did little to put him at ease. “How affectionate do you think any fop or dandy will be after he learns of your father’s financial straits? I can only assume it’s impacted your dowry.”