‘It is only that I thought you might enjoy pouring the tea,’ Christian cut in smoothly.
‘Because I am a woman?’ Lisette gave a disgusted snort to accompany her dismissive comment. ‘Why should I pour your tea for you and your friends when you are more likely to be acquainted with how they take their tea than I am?’
It was a good point, Christian acknowledged. Except he didn’t, of course, never having poured tea in his privileged life before, for his friends or himself. Which was no reason for him not to do so now. Although Maystone, for one, looked in need of something stronger than tea.
‘I will pour you a cup of tea, Lisette.’ Christian proceeded to do so, much to the amusement of his brother-in-law. ‘But I think the gentlemen would prefer brandy...?’
‘Just a small one,’ Marcus accepted drily. ‘Then I must hurry home to Julianna.’
Christian was well aware of the fact that it was only Marcus’s fascination as to what Lisette would do or say next which had prevented him from departing already.
He finished pouring the tea and carried the cup and saucer across the room to place it on the table beside Lisette; having observed her at breakfast this morning, he knew it was exactly as she liked it—milk and a little sugar. ‘Maystone?’ he prompted sharply. Really, the news of Lisette being Helene Rousseau’s illegitimate daughter was surprising, yes, but not so shocking that the older man should still be rendered speechless.
‘Hmm? Oh. Yes. Thank you, Sutherland.’ Maystone nodded, still staring at Lisette in that bemused fashion. ‘A brandy would be most welcome.’
‘I do not believe you should be drinking strong liquor when you are injured, Christian.’ Lisette frowned her disapproval as she watched him pour the amber liquid into three glasses before handing two of them to his guests and retaining one for himself.
Christian heard Marcus give another muffled laugh. A laugh his friend tried—and failed—to hide behind a look of innocence when Christian narrowed his gaze on him. Lord knew what Marcus would report back to their mutual friends concerning his friendship with Mademoiselle Lisette Duprée. They were not even married and she was leading him about by the nose—
Married?
Where on earth had that come from?
Wherever it had come from, it could go back again! He had never met a more opinionated, irritating, bossy, infuriating young woman in his life than Lisette Duprée.
Or one quite so desirable.
Well, yes, there was that, and he really should not have taken things as far as he had in the carriage. Even so, desire did not make up for the fact that Lisette was also—also—
What else was she?
Alone and defenceless.
Apart from that sharp tongue!
Vulnerable and frightened.
Again, apart from that sharp tongue!
She was also about to be used in a game of political chess for which she bore no responsibility or knowledge, but might nevertheless be the one called upon to pay the highest price.
Even that sharpness of Lisette’s tongue and intelligence of mind could not save her if that should prove to be the case.
But Christian had just realised a way in which he might do so...
If he was prepared to pay the price.
Many families in English society were related to or married into the French aristocracy.
Which Lisette most certainly was not. Instead, she was the illegitimate daughter and niece of two notorious French spies.
Maybe so, but no one chose where and to whom they would be born. Lisette was a victim of her own circumstances, not a perpetrator of them—
Good God, he could not seriously be contemplating doing the unthinkable?
‘Christian...?’ Marcus prompted sharply. ‘I believe you are about to spill your brandy all over the carpet!’
He looked blankly at the man he had known since childhood, his thoughts still too onerous for him to form a sensible or coherent reply.