An Indecent Proposition (23 page)

He couldn’t be serious.
Please don’t let any part of me believe he is serious.
“It
was
stupid,” she muttered.

He took a step forward. “Rather like clambering up a wall in the dark and climbing through a window like a character in a romantic novel.”

Even as she rejected the idea he might touch her, a traitorous part of her wanted it. Three more steps . . . maybe four, and he could take her in his arms again and . . .

Her spine stiffened. She reminded herself of that terrible betrayal a year before and the resulting misery. “Don’t come any closer. Please, just . . . leave.”

He went still, his arms at his sides. The angles of his face were etched in the uncertain light. “Annie.”

Ignoring the husky plea in his voice was the single most difficult thing she’d done in her life. “Please.”

If he touched her once, just once, she might fall apart.

To her utter horror, a tear slid down her cheek in a slow, hot glide and dripped on her hands, which were clasped so tightly in her lap the knuckles ached.

And to think she’d vowed to never shed another tear over him. How dare he make a liar of her after all the rest of his myriad offenses.

For a moment he just stood there, and then to her surprise he nodded and did as she asked without saying another word, slipping out the window and disappearing from sight.

She was alone.

 

If he’d fallen and broken his neck, he would at least be out of his state of current frustrated misery, Derek decided as he walked the two blocks to his own town house, but he hadn’t. Besides that, his brilliant plan had failed all because of one teardrop.

He couldn’t bear to make her cry.

He had many faults—too many to count probably—but he wasn’t cruel. The look on Annabel’s face had told him all he needed to know about what he’d already put her through, and if he had gone ahead and followed through with a seduction, he would have hated himself afterward.

Worse, she might hate him too.

The only cheery part of the whole thing, he thought as he let himself in and went toward his study, was that he
could
have seduced her. It was there in her eyes as she gazed at him, in the panicked reaction at that one step toward her, in the tension in her oh-so-desirable body.

So the game wasn’t lost. He just needed to rethink his strategy.

Helping himself to a glass of brandy, he sat down behind his desk and brooded at the empty hearth.

For one thing, he would concede that ludicrous bet. He wasn’t going to go off for a week with the delectable Lady Wynn. He might as well face it. What if there was the slightest chance of Annabel changing her mind and he ruined it by further enhancing his already less-than-pristine reputation? He hoped Nicholas was enjoying himself, but Derek seriously doubted he could approach the matter with equal enthusiasm. Not with his entire future happiness hanging in the balance.

The only woman he wanted was Annabel. With or without her, he had a feeling his days as a rake were over.

T
he missive brought with it a very real sense of disappointment. Nicholas read the note a second time, and then set it aside, weighing his options. There really was only one.

“Bad news?” Caroline gazed at him from across the table, concern furrowing her brow.

He’d looked forward to another ride along the river and perhaps coaxing her into a late-afternoon swim. She’d confessed she’d always wanted to learn how. Caroline, naked in the water, had some tantalizing possibilities.

“I’m afraid I have to go back to London.”

“Oh, I see.” For a moment she looked away as if fascinated by something outside the window, but then she turned back with a resigned expression on her face. “I hope nothing is amiss.”

Though he usually didn’t explain himself, especially to casual lovers, he found himself reacting to the sudden distance in her eyes. “The prime minister wants to meet with me. I head a committee and apparently there’s an issue he’d like for me to address with the other members before we convene next week.”

Her smile held a wistful quality. “I thought a week away was rather ambitious for a man of your stature to give to someone else. I wondered how you were going to manage it.”

Did she really feel he had given her something? He looked at her, realizing how comfortable it was to sit and enjoy something as mundane as a simple cold luncheon merely because he liked her company. The extravagance of her beauty aside, she was unusual in that she played no feminine games. As far as he could tell after spending five pleasurable days constantly in her company, Caroline Wynn was completely without pretense. His fortune and title didn’t overly impress her either, and perhaps for the first time with a woman, he felt she truly didn’t want anything from him other than what they’d already shared.

“Come back with me,” he suggested, reaching over to take her hand. “This matter is pressing, but it should require little more than a few hours. You still owe me two days.”

“And how are we supposed to manage that with any measure of discretion, Nicholas?” Slim fingers lay cool against his palm. “Not that I wouldn’t love to say yes, but it seems foolhardy.”

There it was again, the refreshing honesty he found so captivating. “We’re going to have to devise a way. Nothing is impossible.”

She raised a brow. “Spoken with true ducal assurance. I’m sorry to disagree, but some things
are
impossible. What are you going to do, smuggle me into your bedroom in your pocket?”

She was right, of course; servants talked. His home was out of the question. “We could meet somewhere.”

“Not in London, not with any measure of safety. You have very little to lose if we are linked together in a scandalous way. I do. So I am afraid I must refuse.”

The sunlight coming in the long window lit her glossy auburn hair to warm fire. She wore a pale yellow day gown of frothy muslin that made her look very young, like an innocent schoolgirl. But Nicholas could attest after the recent satisfying days of sexual edification that there was a passionate woman under that demure exterior. Men were going to sense it, for what before had been aloof poise was now replaced with a womanly confidence. They’d flocked around her when she was supposedly distant and standoffish. Now they’d besiege her.

It chafed to realize that any man could approach her, but the very nature of the past days they spent together and the infamous bet meant that
he
had to publicly keep his distance.

A dilemma to be sure. Especially since she was supposed to spend an equal amount of time with Derek.

Damnation, he was starting to think
that
reality made him downright unhappy.

Perhaps this separation was for the best. He was disappointed, but to have their interlude cut short might at least stifle his irrational twinges of what could only be jealousy. Who was he to ask her to not go through with the second half of the bargain? He didn’t have any claim on her and she’d just calmly declined any further involvement.

There was no denying the fine line a woman had to walk in their judgmental world, no matter what side she chose, virtue or otherwise. If she preferred her ice-cold persona, so be it. He was certainly capable of—and more experienced than she was at—detaching himself from sexual entanglements.

Nicholas let go of her hand and pulled his watch from his pocket. “As soon as my driver can get the carriage ready, I’ll depart. Please feel free to stay another few days as my guest if you wish.”

She nodded, those long-lashed gray eyes unreadable. “I have had such a lovely time. I suppose I should feel promiscuous—”

“Indeed you should not,” he said, cutting her short. “You are a beautiful, sensual woman. There is nothing wrong with that. Just the opposite.”

“We live very different lives, don’t we?”

An understatement. He had the freedom of his title and wealth, and while she was also of the upper class, there was no similarity in their circumstances.

“In many ways,” he admitted, thinking back on how right away he’d argued to be the first one to take her away, how quickly he’d arranged his affairs so he could. He felt another one of those unfamiliar glimmers of insight.

He was going to be sorry to leave her.

The unexpected fascination was hardly over.

It was disquieting, made worse by the fact she refused to chance a clandestine relationship once they were back in London. He understood her reasons. Especially if she would ever consider marriage again, her reputation was important.

Abruptly, he got to his feet and gave her a small bow, knowing he needed to get away from her at once. “Please excuse me.”

 

Caroline stared unseeingly out the window at the spacious green of the park surrounding the house. She was packed and as soon as Huw brought the carriage around, she would depart. It had been a good decision to leave, because almost the minute Nicholas’s vibrant presence was gone, the house felt unbearably empty. One stroll in the garden told her she wasn’t going to be able to endure staying on. It was probably a little foolhardy to arrive back in London right after his return because it might call attention to their mutual absence, but she simply could not accept his invitation to remain his guest.

There was prudence, and then there was melancholy. She’d known way too much of the latter in her life already.

The Duke of Rothay had a profound effect on her good sense.

From where she stood, she could see the terrace where they’d first sat and had tea—well, he’d drunk his usual brandy—and then later waltzed to an invisible tune.

Maybe she should have agreed to meet him again. If she had, would she not feel so . . . bereft?

Her hand tightened on the fine fabric of the curtain. The complication of forming an infatuation for the devilishly handsome and sensually talented duke was not something she’d seen coming. She wasn’t the first, and she could hardly suppose she would be the last, but there was no denying he was going to be hard to forget.

Nothing about him had been as she expected, except for his legendary sexual skills. The man had lived up to his reputation there with ease. What she didn’t anticipate was the thoughtful look on his face when they discussed his visit to the Byzantine mosques she’d only read about, his indulgence over her breathless questions, his congenial attitude over her unworldly and cautious approach to society. . . .

He wasn’t snobbish, and with his bloodlines and fortune, he certainly could be. She’d even caught him one day out by the stables, chatting with her driver, Huw, and sitting on a bale of hay, his shirt partially unbuttoned, the straw on his boots showing he’d helped muck out the stall of his restive big stallion. Nobleman and servant had laughed at the same time, and Caroline had felt an inner warmth for the man that had nothing to do with his persuasive sexual expertise.

If she was honest with herself—and it wasn’t easy—she knew very little about love. Her cold father certainly didn’t inspire that emotion, her aunt had been neither warm nor motherly, and Edward had been a nightmare. Maybe the whole problem was that for once in her life someone had treated her with courtesy, with tenderness, and, above all, as if she was a person with thoughts and feelings of her own. In and out of bed they’d discussed everything from politics to history, and if she disagreed with his opinion, he was interested in why. The concept of a friendly argument was a new one, and Nicholas, with his formidable confidence and keen intelligence, was not at all the self-centered rascal she’d anticipated. It was confusing and she knew she was woefully susceptible, which didn’t help matters. The game he was so adept at was new to her, and being a tyro, she’d done the unthinkable and fallen in love.

At least she suspected that was her current ailment. In just a few short days. Even when she knew he was deliberately exerting himself to captivate her.

It made her feel foolish and gauche and unsophisticated. Even if he did want to pursue an affair, it didn’t mean she was anything but an unusual diversion from his regular diet of experienced lovers, and she was pragmatic enough to know it.

“My lady, I think everything is ready.”

Caroline turned, startled out of her reverie. “Oh, yes. Thank you, Mrs. Sims.”

The housekeeper nodded. As usual she was neatly dressed, with a crisp apron over her plain dark dress, her graying hair in a severe chignon. “It was rather nice to have His Grace here, I must say.”

It was easy to respond with complete honesty. “He’s a very charming man.”

“He is that, I grant you. Ever so polite and congenial always, despite his place.”

“Yes.”

“I hope you enjoyed your stay, my lady.”

Since Mrs. Sims managed the household, she surely knew she and Nicholas slept together each night, for only one bed had been used. Caroline fought a blush with only partial success. “It was lovely, thank you.”

“I always rather hoped His Grace would develop a fondness for this old place. It’s very pleasant here, though I suppose not very exciting for a young man. I remember him as a boy and he was always a bit precocious, able to wheedle extra sweets from the cook and trick his tutor out of his lessons. Threw his mother into fits, he did, but he’s turned out a fine man, whatever they say about him.”

Not sure if she was more surprised the woman lingered to talk to her or that she knew so much, Caroline couldn’t help but ask, “You knew him when he was a child?”

She could picture a dark-haired little boy, exuberant and playful, and her heart tightened a little.

“Oh yes. I was at Rothay Hall for years.” The housekeeper smoothed her already perfect apron in an absent mannerism. “When I wanted something less taxing, he offered me this. My joints ache something terrible sometimes and ’tis quiet enough here.”