Page 41 of The Language of Love

Lord, but he was a dog! The woman was clearly an innocent.

He pulled his gaze from her mouth and fixed it on her eyes—not a hardship. “Tell me, Annis, are you ever at liberty?”

She daubed her lips with the heavy damask napkin and then cut a quick glance at her cousin—as if to see whether she was listening. “Rarely. And what about you? Do your duties for the earl keep you occupied?”

It took Henry a moment to recall he was a secretary, not a wealthy, independent peer. Sometimes he was as mutton headed as Colin. “I get the occasional afternoon to myself. Perhaps we might go for a ride in the park sometime?”

She looked as surprised by the words as Henry felt uttering them. “Do you mean in your carriage? Or do you hack?”

“Which do you prefer?”

“Oh, I—”

“Annis.”

Both their heads jerked up at the nasal, unpleasant voice.

Miss Bowman’s pretty eyes glinted with spite as she looked from Annis to Henry. “I left my fan in the retiring room. Run and fetch it for me.”

The entire table went silent.

A wave of anger flooded Henry; what a bloody shrew.

He was about to turn to Annis and tell her—well; he didn’t know what, exactly—but she stood before he could speak.

“Of course, Cousin Susanna.”

Lady Sedgwick stood with her. “I’ll go with you, Annis. I’m afraid I’ve trod on my flounce and require a few of your pins.”

That was a fib if Henry had ever heard one; the countess was the most graceful woman he’d ever known. Clearly, Lady Sedgwick had a heart of gold behind her icy exterior.

The men resumed their seats after the two women left the table.

Colin, oblivious to the tensions swirling around him, turned back to Susanna Bowman.

Avington leaned toward Henry and said in a low voice, “You can’t let it bother you, Parker.”

Oddly, Henry was not surprised that the other man knew what he was feeling. The earl looked like a handsome, brainless doll—like Colin, in fact—but Avington was interested in those around him.

“It’s a wretched way to live, being a poor dependent,” Henry finally said, something he knew from first-hand experience. “Isn’t there anything somebody could do?”

What Henry really meant was: why don’t you marry her—since she’s obviously in love with you?

Avington’s merry eyes were grim as they followed the receding backs of the two women. “A man with money could do plenty.” He gave Henry a self-deprecating smile. “But that’s what we lack, isn’t it, Parker—money?”

He didn’t wait for Henry to answer, which was just as well, since Henry was feeling rather like a sneaking rat since he had plenty of money.

“I’d do anything to save her,” the earl said, his voice pulsing with emotion. “To save both of them,” he amended with a quick look at Henry. “But I can’t.”

The flash of pain in the other man’s eyes confirmed Henry’s suspicions: Avington loved Annis as much as she appeared to love him.

Bitterness and pity swirled in his belly as he studied the impoverished peer. He’d only met the man a few hours ago but knew instinctively that he was honorable and kind. He would make Annis an excellent husband, but first he would have to give up his goal of a rich wife.

“Not everyone will sacrifice themselves for money,” Henry said.

It was the most he was willing to say. If the other man didn’t understand what a treasure he was giving up to marry a rich woman, then Henry wasn’t so sure Avington deserved Annis Bowman.

Avington turned his startlingly blue eyes on Henry, an anguished expression in them. “No, not everyone will sacrifice themselves for money, Parker. But I will.”