“So could you, you know.”
He smiled. “I already know how to fight.”
“I meant swim. Have you ever tried to learn?”
“No. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m afraid of the water.”
“But you crossed an entire ocean!”
“And don’t think I wasn’t scared. Believe me, I stayed far away from the rails.”
“I could teach you to swim, you know. We could start today! Right after our pugilism lesson.”
Andrew actually felt the blood drain from his face. “Today? No, I don’t think-”
“I could teach you to swim, Mr. Stanton,” Spencer went on, his eyes alight with eagerness. “Won’t you allow me to try? I’d be honored to teach you something in return for everything you’re teaching me. And once you learn, you can take the waters with me and Mum-not that you need to know how to swim to take the waters. The springwater would only reach your chest.”
The “no” that had hovered on Andrew’s lips fell away as he considered this opportunity. If he learned to swim… he instantly imaged him and Catherine together at night in the spring, kissing, touching in the warm, soothing water. Then a relaxing, fun-filled family afternoon, splashing and swimming with Spencer and Catherine.
“Mr. Stanton?”
Andrew roused himself from his brown study. “Yes?”
“If you try, then discover that you can’t do it, that’s fine. Not everyone can excel at everything he attempts. The important thing is to try.”
One corner of Andrew’s mouth pulled up. “Surely it is written somewhere that ‘thou shalt not use a man’s own words against him. ’”
“Unfortunately for you, that is not written anywhere, ”
Spencer said positively. “And surely you cannot expect me to take your advice if you’re unwilling to take it yourself.”
Andrew blinked. The lad had him there. “Have you ever considered becoming a barrister?”
“No. But if I stand a chance of winning this-my first case-I may consider it.” He reached out and laid a comforting hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “I know it will be difficult, especially after what happened to your father. But a very wise man recently told me that if you always do what you’ve always done, you’ll always be where you’ve always been.”
Andrew shook his head. “Hoist upon my own petard,” he muttered.
“I appreciate your trust in sharing your secret with me, sir,” Spencer said in a very serious voice. “I give you my word it is not misplaced.”
There was no missing Spencer’s strong desire to be needed, to be important, to be good enough at something to teach someone else. It was all right there in the young man’s eyes, calling out to Andrew. It was a call he couldn’t ignore.
“All right,” he agreed. “I’ll try it. One time,” he added hastily when Spencer’s face lit up with an eager smile. “But if I don’t like it, we stop. Immediately.”
“Agreed. But first our pugilism lesson.”
Andrew nodded. “Ready?”
Spencer made two fists and struck a fighting pose. “Ready.”
“Have you taken to studying tea leaves, Catherine?”
At Genevieve’s question Catherine jerked her gaze up from her teacup and blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“I wondered if you’d developed an interest in tea leaves since clearly there is something fascinating in the bottom of your cup.”
Heat rose in Catherine’s cheeks. “Forgive me, Genevieve. I’m a bit preoccupied.”
“Yes, I can see that. Is something amiss?”
Catherine looked at the warm concern in Genevieve’s blue eyes, and to her consternation felt hot moisture press behind her own eyes. “Not amiss, precisely, but there is something troubling me.”
“I’d be happy to listen if you’d like to tell me.”
“I don’t really know how or where to begin.”
Genevieve nodded slowly. “I see. This concerns Mr. Stanton.”
Catherine stared. “Good Lord, either I’ve become completely transparent, or everyone around me has developed clairvoyant tendencies.”
“There is nothing of a transparent or clairvoyant nature at work here, darling. ‘Tis just that I know you so well, and the fact that since I have a great deal of experience in these matters, I can easily recognize the signs.”
“These matters? Signs? What do you mean?”
“Why, I’m talking about you and Mr. Stanton. Last evening. The way he looked at you. The way you tried so hard not to look at him. The way you waltzed together.”
“I… I don’t know what to say. My thoughts are so confused, I’m not certain how to describe them.”
“Catherine, there’s nothing to be confused about. I understand completely.”
A humorless laugh escaped Catherine. “Then perhaps you could explain it to me.”
“Gladly. You find Mr. Stanton very attractive-in spite of the fact that you do not wish to.”
“I don’t wish to,” Catherine agreed emphatically. “And what makes it worse, I cannot fathom why I find him so fascinating. He is the most irritating man I’ve ever encountered.”
“Which is why you find him so fascinating,” Genevieve said with a soft laugh. “He is challenging in that he does not fall at your feet and agree with everything you say like the rest of the men seeking your favor. Yet he is kind and holds you in the highest regard. To say nothing of the fact that he is a delight to look at.” Genevieve's sharp-eyed gaze studied her for several seconds. “I’m guessing he kissed you.”
Fire erupted in Catherine’s cheeks. “Yes.”
“He is a man who knows how to kiss a woman.”
“Truer words have probably never been spoken.”
“Did you make love with him?”
A heated tremor sizzled through Catherine at the mere thought. “No.”
“But you want to.” Clearly, Genevieve needed no confirmation of that because before Catherine could speak, she continued, “Obviously he wishes to. Did he give you any indication what his intentions are?”
“He said he intends to court me.”
“Ah!” Genevieve’s eyes sparkled. “Not only is he charming, handsome, intelligent, and-”
“Irritating. You seem to keep forgetting that-”
“-Well traveled, he is honorable as well.”
Feeling decidedly like a hen whose feathers were badly ruffled out of place, Catherine said tartly, “As I told him last evening, there is no point in courting me, as I’ve no intention of marrying again.”
“So you wish for him merely to seduce you,” Genevieve said with a matter-of-fact nod. “You could easily convince most men to agree to your terms, but one can tell at first glance that your Mr. Stanton is not most men.”
“He is not my Mr. Stanton.”
Genevieve brushed the comment away with her gloved hand. “I do not see him turning down the opportunity to become your lover, but his intention to court you leads me to think he will not be satisfied with that arrangement in the long run.”
“Yes, I’m certain he’d tire of me after a time.” The words felt like sawdust in Catherine’s mouth, and she sipped her tea to relieve the discomfort.
“You misunderstand, my dear. Mr. Stanton stated he wishes to court you. He wants a wife. He will grow tired not of you, but of the nonpermanent nature of your relationship. When he does, he will push for you to marry him.”
“He will not succeed.”
“Then it is my guess that he will end your relationship at that time.”
Catherine ignored the odd feeling that pervaded her at the bald statement, and laughed. “I was not aware that gentlemen ended relationships because the woman refused to get married. What sort of man would want the responsibility of a wife, especially a wife who comes with another man’s child, when he could have the carefree enjoyment of a mistress?”
“The sort of man who wants a family. Permanence. A woman and child to share his life with. A man who is capable of giving a woman all the things a man like your husband was not. The sort of man who is in love.” Genevieve shrugged. “Mr. Stanton could be any one of those-or perhaps all of them.”