she gave him a guileless, innocent look.
“I am,” he reluctantly agreed.
“Good. Now, tell me about your mother.”
“My mother?”
“Yes.” Lady Venetia sat there, prim and proper, and all Adrian could think was that she needed some good and proper kissing to distract her. At the risk of losing his position, he took a chance.
“My lady, why don’t we return to the subject of desire?”
An excited heat lit her eyes. “Desire?”
“Yes. Desire, while not necessary for marriage, is important for a happy one.”
She leaned forward, eager to hear more. “Do go on.”
Adrian stood and began to pace the room. “Desire can begin with a look.” He paused and turned toward her, allowing every wicked thought he’d ever had about her to break through his reserved exterior. He thought of the way her satin-smooth skin had felt as he had helped undress her. He thought of what he would do to her if he were of her station, how he would catch her in some private alcove, hike up her skirts, and claim her, overwhelming her with pleasure.
Her face flushed red, and her lips parted. With a single look, he had proved that desire could be seen in a man’s eyes.
“I . . .” She swallowed hard. “I meant to say, what else do you know about desire? Can it develop over time if it does not come instantly?”
“It can. Just like love, desire can grow over time, but it can also fade over time. Do not marry a man simply out of desire. Marry him for love too.” He paused, thinking over his own choices regarding marriage. He’d never felt a deep devotion to any woman before. Desire, yes, but never love. The truth was, he’d never dared give in to thoughts of love and marriage. It wasn’t his destiny as a person in service.
“I know, love is very important. But I worry . . .” She trailed off, her eyes drifting to something beyond him.
He came back and sat again in the chair nearest her. “About what?”
“I worry that I will not be able to find a man who will love me.” He saw the flash of trepidation mixed with hope in her eyes as she spoke. “I am not meek, nor biddable. I do not have the least bit of interest in obeying a man simply because he commands me to. I certainly don’t believe men are superior—if they were, they would be the ones trusted to bear children and raise them. That duty is reserved to us ladies, yet we are treated so abominably.”
She spoke with such forlorn sorrow that Adrian was moved to act. He reached across the space between them and took hold of one of her hands. “Did your father treat you poorly?”
“Oh no, quite the opposite. My mother died when I was thirteen, and he wanted me to be raised as a proud, intelligent, and independent woman. He cautioned me against the male sex so severely that until this business with my cousin trying to force me to marry his friend, I had no desire to marry at all.”
“And now you are resigned to it?” he asked, trying to figure out the puzzle of Lady Venetia.
“Yes, I suppose that word fits as well as any.” She looked into his eyes. “I want to be loved, desired, but also valued as a person, not seen as a bit of chattel that a man owns. I don’t want to marry a man who just wants to obtain my fortune. Does such a man exist in England?”
Adrian still held her hand, and he slowly raised it to his lips. “Yes. There are good men who would desire, love, and cherish you the way you deserve.” He wished more than anything to have been born a gentleman, not a bastard. To be a man worthy of her. He would have gladly given his soul away in a Faustian pact if he could have that one gift.
“Do you have a woman you love?” she asked as he lowered their joined hands back down.
“I am alone in the world. To marry would mean to leave Hartland Abbey, and while I have an excellent service record here, I cannot easily find work elsewhere. My parentage draws too much scandalous speculation, even after all these years.”
“Is Lord Devon . . . ?”
“No, he’s not my sire. He is kind and good. He took me in at my father’s request. My father is the Duke of Stratford.”
Lady Venetia’s lips parted in shock. “Adrian, one