“I will cut in, only because I have the distinct feeling that I’ll feel most uncomfortable with the topic at hand, should it be discussed further. Joan, in return you are giving him you…and, dear sister, that is enough. He might not need your dowry, but he does in fact need you.” Morgan stood. “Now, I assume this is not the only task that requires our attention?”

Rowles shook his head as he smiled at his friend. “One day you will not be so averse to emotions, Morgan. And I will delight in that day.”

“Yes, well, that day is not today so you’ll have to wait for such satisfaction.”

“Indeed.” Rowles smirked.

Joan turned her gaze heavenward as if praying for patience, but she was smiling through her apparent irritation. “Ever the romantic, Morgan. If we’re one day to find you a wife—”

“That day is also not today, dear sister,” Morgan said with some impatience. “Now, to what shall we set our minds next?”

Rowles stood and arched a brow. “Well, if you must know, I was considering introducing Joan to the staff, especially to my housekeeper so that she can make the needed arrangements for the wedding breakfast.”

“An excellent idea,” Morgan said with approval.

“It requires no emotion on anyone’s part,” Joan said with a playful grin.

“Indeed.” Rowles sighed. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll call for Mrs. Adams and she’ll meet us in the library.”

“Lovely.”

Rowles stepped from his study and signaled for a maid to locate the housekeeper and ask her to meet them in the library. The maid quickly left to do his bidding, and Rowles led their party down the hall.

“It occurred to me that you haven’t officially had a tour, have you?” he asked as he turned his head to study Joan.

“No, I haven’t,” she replied, her cheeks flushing slightly. Her eyes trailed along the hall, studying the artwork and decor with interest. “I confess I’d like a tour very much. I’d like some familiarity with the house before it becomes my home.” The blush deepened.

Rowles turned his attention forward, needing a moment to let his body cool from the picture she’d painted with her words.

Her home.

Where he’d see her each and every day, and where he’d share her bed every night.

Where he could bask in her glow and the glory of her keen mind, while knowing that the next day held the same delights. Yes, he liked that idea a lot.

“I’d be delighted to show you my home,” Rowles answered finally, turning his head to meet her gaze. “I’d enjoy that very much.”

“With a chaperone, of course,” Morgan added dryly.

“Are you not volunteering for the position?” Joan asked archly.