Page 19 of The Captain Claims His Temptress

“Viscountess Beaumont highly recommended them. She said they were a tremendous help at her summerfête. When she arrives this evening, I shall ask her what in the dickens she meant by sending them here. Lord Saxton will need to discontinue their employment.” Her aunt huffed then turned to Maddie. “I wrote to my dear friend and told her all about this week. She wrote back insisting she be here to assist. Maybe you will find her daughters suitable companions.” Her aunt’s brow crinkled as if reconsidering the idea.

Meanwhile, Wilson frantically waved his hands as he herded the pair from the hothouse.

Once the men were gone, Lady Saxtonharrumphed.

“I am sorry that you are disappointed by Lieutenant Calhoun’s absence,” Maddie said.

“Benjamin is quite charming, and I dare say I enjoy his company. However, that is not why I am disappointed.”

“Oh?” Maddie asked.

Aunt Henrietta focused on her canvas, creating purple circles as she spoke. “Did you notice the captain bristled when Benjamin addressed you?”

Captain Stephen Eaton had been one big ball of bristling during their morning meal.

“So”—her aunt’s paintbrush skimmed across the upper corner of the canvas— “I am of the opinion that having Benjamin join us might make him jealous.”

Surely Maddie had misunderstood. “Make whom jealous?”

“Captain Eaton. I told you. He will propose to you before the sennight is up.”

Not if her uncle killed him.

“Aunt Henrietta, I must confess something.”

“Do not tell me you aren’t interested in him. You make a perfect match.”

“But I am at least five years his senior,” Maddie said.

Lady Saxton pursed her lips. “Stephen Eaton is the type of man who requires a mature woman.”

“But I am an American widow, and he is a British aristocrat.”

“Many American heiresses marry members of the British aristocracy.”

How could she make her aunt understand? “But Sir Saxton has forbidden me to go near the captain.”

“Sir Saxton would not know a love match if it slapped him in the face.”

“But Aunt Henrietta,”—she had to tell the truth—“I have already behaved atrociously in the captain’s presence.”

“I did warn you about all that smiling and eyelash fluttering.”

“I kissed him, Aunt Henrietta. He was on the balcony looking out over the gardens, and I walked up to him and kissed him.” It was more that she had flown at him and molested his person, but she was not ready to confess all. “I didn’t heed your warning. I don’t know what is wrong with me. I’m sorry.”

“Did anyone witness this impropriety?”

“My uncle and Hugo Adams.” She could no longer meet her aunt’s gaze. “I believe Sir Saxton means to send Stephen away.” Or challenge him to a duel.

“Leave Sir Saxton to me.”

“I am so sorry,” Maddie said again.

The silence between them seemed to last forever. Finally, her aunt asked, “Did he kiss you back?”

Maddie lifted her gaze from her slippers. “Yes.” Oh, had he kissed her back—and licked, nibbled, caressed, and fondled.

Her aunt dipped a thin brush in green paint, forming stems as she spoke. “Leave everything to me. He will propose before the end of the week.”