“What is wrong with you?” she asked him.
“Close the door,” was his reply.
“No.”
“Close it!”
“No!”
She went over and picked up the larger chunks of broken glass, tossing them into the flames so the idiot wouldn’t cut his feet when he stumbled drunkenly to bed.
“Stop that,” he ordered.
“Stop what?”
“You’re not a maid, and you’re not my wife. You don’t have to tidy up after me.”
“Why are you imbibing all alone and smashing the crystal?”
“None of your damn business.”
He reached for the decanter, and she snatched it away and set it on the mantle.
“Give me that,” he fumed.
“You’ve had enough.”
“You’re not my mother either. Don’t lecture me.”
“You’re acting like a barbarian.”
“I’m not acting. I am a barbarian.”
“I believe you.”
She stood in front of him, dithering over how to proceed. She didn’t suppose she should leave him to his own devices, but she wasn’t keen to dawdle while he grumbled and grouched.
“Don’t scowl at me like that,” he said.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re a cranky governess about to rap my knuckles.”
“Somebody should tell you how to behave.”
“Well, it’s not going to be you, so don’t try.”
“You haven’t answered my question,” she reminded him.
“What was it?”
“Why are you in here? Why aren’t you up in the earl’s suite?”
“I let my brother have it.”
“Why?”
“He enjoys the pomp and circumstance of this place, and I wish to hell he’d been born first. Then I wouldn’t have to bother with any of this nonsense.”
She studied him, curious as to why he always seemed so unhappy. He’d grown up in an orphanage, but now, he was incredibly wealthy. Any sane man would celebrate such a turn of fortune, but not him.
“I see what’s happening,” she scolded. “You pity yourself.”
“Why would I pity myself?”
“Because you’re rich and powerful, and you don’t think you deserve to have had so much affluence showered on you. You feel guilty.”
“I didn’t deserve it, but I don’t feel guilty. This whole burden got dumped on me. I didn’t ask for it. It just . . . is.”
“Quit moping. It’s unbecoming.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Was there something you needed?”
“Yes, actually. A favor.”
“No.”
“You didn’t hear what it is.”
“I don’t care what it is. My answer is still no.”
She ignored him and forged ahead. “If you would—”
“Emeline, I said no.”
“You’re being rude and ridiculous.”
“And you’re not?”
“I have a great idea,” she insisted, “and we’ll both benefit.”
“I don’t see how.”
She threw up her arms in exasperation. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“I don’t need to know. Since you’re excited about it, I’m sure it will be absurd.”
She pulled up a chair and seated herself. “I want you to start the school again, and I want you to hire me as the teacher.”
“Do you ever stop?”
“No. This is the perfect plan. You wouldn’t even have to pay me. You could remunerate me simply by letting me have another cottage.”
“You’d toil away for no salary? Just for your lodging?”
“Yes.”
“You wouldn’t have any funds. How would you buy food for your sisters?”
“I’ll find a way. I can take in laundry or raise chickens. I’m a hard worker.”
“I’ve seen how you managed previously. You’re completely incompetent.”
“But I’m so good at teaching! I realize you hated the school, but—”
“I’ve never been asked about it.”
She frowned. “Mr. Mason told me that you specifically ordered it shut down.”
“I’ve never discussed it with him.”
Emeline was puzzled. Mr. Mason had been very clear. He’d mentioned the subject to the earl, and the earl had said absolutely not. Yet now, the earl was claiming he and Mason had never conferred over it.
They were both liars, so who was she to believe?
She pressed on. “Let me tell you why it’s important.”
“No. Have you any clue as to how much money you’ve already cost me?”
She gaped at him. Was he grousing over the meals she and her sisters had eaten? Was he angry that they were sleeping in his beds and the sheets would have to be washed?
“How have I cost you anything?”
“I’ve halted the evictions.”
“You have? Really?”
“Yes, but just for the time being. I may resume them in the future—after I’ve had more opportunity to reflect. Any losses I incur are all your fault.”
“My fault?”
“You nagged until I couldn’t bear your rants. I did it merely to silence you.”
“I don’t care what the reason. I’m just so glad.”
“Mr. Mason is livid.”
“I’ll bet he is.”
“He says you’re a menace, and I shouldn’t listen to you.”
“Aren’t you in charge?”
“Nominally.”
“I’m proud of you. You did what was right for your tenants.”
She was delighted to have goaded him to benevolence. What other boons might she be able to garner?
“So . . . about the school,” she started again.
“Enough about your stupid school! Close the door.”
He waved at it, expecting her to leap up and obey.
“I’m not about to be sequestered with you. People will talk.”
“What people? In case you haven’t noticed, everyone is asleep but us. We can do whatever we want.”
He stood, suddenly seeming much more sober than she’d assumed. Before she grasped his intent, he marched over and shut the door himself. He leaned against the wood, arms crossed over his chest, blocking any egress.
“Open it!” she demanded. “At once.”
“No.”
She stomped over until they were toe to toe, and she shivered, but not with dread. A part of her—a very small part—was thrilled by his autocratic manner. She knew what it was like to be held by him, to be kissed by him, and she’d enjoy having either occur. Just so long as she kept her wits about her and didn’t get carried away, which was definitely a problem.
Where he was concerned, it was entirely possible that she might misbehave.
“Mr. Mason informs me,” he told her, “that your father was much too lenient in how he reared you.”
“Mr. Mason hates me, and he has a few issues with the truth.”
“He advises that you were educated
