Free Darius: Lord of Pleasures by Grace Burrowes

out of his pocket and passing it to Vivian. “You need a horse in proportion to your seat and leg. I thought Bernice would fit you.”
    “She has a kind eye.” Vivian fed the horse the carrot. “Wonderful manners.”
    “Consider her your personal mount for the duration,” Darius said. “John will offer to walk her out for you, and if you don’t mind, I’d allow it.”
    “She’s that docile?”
    “He’s that comfortable with horses, and Bernice is a lady, or I wouldn’t have paired her up with you.”
    “You’re flirting somehow.”
    “Stating a fact,” he said, leading Vivian from the stall. “John, if you groom that pony any longer, he’s going to fall asleep. Get you back up to the house, and I’ll expect to hear at least three perfect Latin verbs at teatime.”
    “Will Lady Vivian hear my Latin?”
    “I will,” Vivian said, “and I will be on my extra good manners at tea if I know there are to be two gentlemen present.” She shot an arch look at Darius. “We can all be on probation together.”
    “Capital!”
    ***
    Vivian missed her husband. Missed the steady, dependable, boring routine of their life together. Missed knowing the answers before the questions were asked. She’d fallen asleep the night before, secure in the conviction that the next day she could explain to Mr. Lindsey that she’d choose Option B. William had said she could limit her dealings with the man to fifteen minutes at the end of the day, and Mr. Lindsey himself had acknowledged as much.
    That way would be safer for everybody. Simpler.
    But then… that child had joined them at breakfast, and Vivian’s heart had started beating harder in her chest.
    Darius Lindsey loved that boy. He’d die for a child who had clearly been cast off by his parents as an embarrassment. And Vivian wanted to see more of the man who’d taken in the boy and raised him to be such a charming little gentleman. The difficulty was, the man who noticed that a child’s manners needed praising was also a man who’d noticed Vivian’s husband didn’t know her favorite jam.
    Vivian herself had nearly forgotten.
    She glanced down at her dress, running her hand over the nappy, plain fabric. It was warm, sensible, durable, economical…
    And ugly . The same color as calf… diarrhea, he’d said.
    A metaphor for her life, maybe.
    She wished her sister were on hand to talk with, wished she had anybody to parse with her the dilemma she faced. Darius Lindsey was dangerous, and not just because he loved the child in his care. Vivian glanced out her window to see it was already dark, nigh teatime, when a knock on the door interrupted her musings.
    “Are you cavorting with Byron again?” Darius asked as he eyed her sitting on the bed.
    “We’re through, Lord Byron and I. He’s fine for a passing amusement, but the man lacks depth.”
    “Thus speaketh Polite Society about one of its own,” Darius replied as he lowered himself beside her. “Do you shrink away from me out of habit, or are you afraid I’ll end up sitting in your lap by accident?”
    “I don’t…” She stopped and tried for honesty. “You’re very informal. I’m not used to it.”
    “Doesn’t William touch you? I thought that was one of the blessings of marriage, that one had permission to touch and be touched, not just in bed.”
    “I touch William. I’m forever tucking in his lap robes, holding his jackets for him, tugging off his boots.”
    His smile became knowing. “I’ll bet he still has the same valet he had when his first wife was alive.”
    “He does. William is frequently required to wear formal attire, and a valet… what?”
    “My brother is heir to an earldom, and he sacked his valet as soon as he married. Many men do upon marriage, unless they’re exceedingly toplofty.”
    “Muriel was too ill…” Vivian fell silent.
    “Even when she was still cutting a dash,” Darius guessed, “her husband had his valet.”
    “What is the point of this