Meggie knew he was now looking at her bosom, and she was so disconcerted she said, “You are speaking of your mistress, sir, in polite company?”
“Ah, this group isn’t at all polite,” Lord Kipper said. “Just ask that husband of yours, one of the wickedest young men I’ve met in a long time.”
He grinned over at Thomas, who’d taken a step away from the fireplace when he’d threatened to kill Lord Kipper, now moved back, relaxing again against the mantelpiece, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Thomas isn’t wicked,” Meggie said, frowned and paused, tilting her head to one side. “At least I don’t think he is. We haven’t known each other all that long, you see.”
“Yes,” Lord Kipper said, “I see.”
“Niles hasn’t ever changed his stripes,” Thomas said to his wife. “He was a terror when he was a boy, sowed more wild oats than an entire class at Oxford, and decided he quite liked it. Meggie, I am not wicked at all. He is the master and he’s always wanted a student to follow in his path, but it isn’t me. I doubt not that Niles will go to his grave a terror.”
“Praise the Lord,” Libby said. “Thomas, you are teasing your bride. My dear, he is quite wicked enough. Now, Niles, who is your latest mistress?”
“Well,” said Lord Kipper, “I just dismissed a young lady who returned last week to her home in St. Ives.” He looked down at his hands for a moment, utterly distracted. Was he still thinking about her?
“Ah, yes, Melinda,” he said. “I expect I shall miss her, particularly as the days grow longer and there is so much light to see and to enjoy and—well, perhaps with the addition of your wife, Thomas, the company is polite enough now to forego specificity.”
Meggie looked frankly disappointed. Her husband grinned at her.
“Then why did you let her go?” Madeleine asked.
“Unfortunately my nephew paid me a surprise visit and nearly lost what few wits he possessed when he saw her. He refused to go back to England, read poor Melinda love poetry from below her window, standing in the rain. I was afraid he would catch an inflammation of the lung, so what was I to do?”
“Send the fool packing,” Thomas said. “Not Melinda.”
“Ah, well, such a pity I didn’t think of that at the time. What’s done is done. Now, I am on the lookout, you could say.” He paused a moment, stroking his long fingers over his jaw. “I think I just might be in the market for an older, more experienced female person. Will you consider it, Libby?”
“Will I have to lose flesh?”
“I have decided that a bit of strategic padding on a woman’s body isn’t as distasteful as I have always believed. How could a man dislike such a lovely expanse of white flesh? No, my dearest Libby, you may continue eating to your heart’s content. I will come back on the morrow and we will discuss how this is to be accomplished.”
Libby nodded and bowed her head, a lovely smile on her mouth. She was humming under her breath.
Meggie’s uncles were outrageous, no doubt about that, even though they did try to keep their hands off their wives and keep all their drawing comments to a whisper when any of the children were near. But since she was the next generation eavesdropper after her aunt Sinjun, she’d heard quite a bit over the years, but never anything like this. She stared at her husband. He had no expression at all on his face. No, that wasn’t right. He was looking a bit amused, maybe a touch of irony mirrored in those dark eyes of his. She wanted to go to the stable, find herself a stout horse, and ride back to Cork Harbour. Maybe there would be a boat headed back to England.
Thomas said abruptly, “Niles, you remember Bernard Leach, do you not? He and his wife own the Hangman’s Noose near St. Agnes?”
“Oh yes, a tippler is Bernard, tried to cheat me once about ten years ago. I kicked him but good in his ribs, his wife holding him down for me, all the while cursing him from Cornwall to Scotland. Marie’s a good woman. Why do you ask?”