An Indecent Proposition (40 page)

“She doesn’t want to draw him to her that way. When and if he comes, she prefers it not to be because he feels a responsibility to save her from what she terms ‘her own folly,’ but because he loves her and freely acknowledges it. I empathize completely.”

A wry smile curved his lips. “Yet you still wish for me to interfere, correct?”

“Absolutely.”

“
Y
ou misunderstand,” Nicholas said in his best aristocratic tone, icy cold and unrelenting. “I do not care if Lord Wynn is receiving or not. I
will
see him.”

The servant correctly registered both the look on his face and the conviction in his voice. He was young and a half foot shorter than Nicholas, his dismayed expression showing he felt ill equipped to handle the situation. The footman cleared his throat and rasped out, “He’s indisposed, Your Grace.”

“I imagine he is, by all accounts. Nonetheless, show me in and tell him I’ll search the house to find him if he is too spineless to come down.”

In the face of such determination, the servant acquiesced, probably because, Nicholas thought as the young man stepped back and held the door for him to enter the foyer, a man like Wynn did not inspire much loyalty.

He was shown into what passed for the formal drawing room, the furnishings spare and not quite shabby, but well-worn. Since he knew Caroline had inherited the Wynn town house, the place was probably rented anyway. Nicholas didn’t sit down but stood instead by the fireplace and glanced at the clock in the corner. He told himself he would give Wynn five minutes, and tamped down the urge to pace.

Very rarely did he lose his temper. His self-control was part innate, part learned because his position and responsibilities demanded it, but even raising his voice was not a common occurrence. Of course, he couldn’t really remember feeling so murderously angry either.

The man had touched Caroline. More than that, he’d undoubtedly frightened her.

“What the devil do you want, Rothay?” The question was snarled from the doorway. “How dare you force your way into my home?”

Nicholas turned, focusing his gaze on the man who came into the room, noting with satisfaction his lordship did look a trifle white around the mouth, as if he was in pain.

He said pleasantly, “I’m tempted to kill you.”

The sneering expression on the other man’s pallid face froze. After a moment, he sputtered, “I have no idea why. I don’t know what that cold little bitch told you, but—”

Nicholas stepped forward at the insult. “I still might,” he said reflectively, his eyes narrowing, his posture undeniably threatening. “Considering my current frame of mind, I advise you to adjust your form of address when referring to Lady Wynn. It would be my pleasure to tear you into tiny pieces with my bare hands.”

Wynn stiffened. “Over a woman? You?”

“Over
this
woman, yes.”

“Come, now, Rothay, isn’t she just another one of your casual bed partners? You change them like you change your shirts. Besides, I find it hard to believe this matter affects you at all. She’s a whore, offering to spread her legs for two different men. Why would you care if she gave me the same favors?”

Nicholas felt his hands clench into fists, a red haze momentarily obscuring his vision. He took a deep breath, knowing if he touched Wynn now, he might just snap his neck. Through his teeth he said, “If you had the slightest notion of how much I am tempted to disregard the fact murder is a crime in England, you would shut your mouth this moment. As it is, I can call you out and kill you at dawn tomorrow morning with no more remorse than if I stepped on an insect. Now, you’ll be quiet and listen to what I have to say, understand?”

For a moment he wondered if the other man, who hadn’t sat down either, would turn and run. Lord Wynn seemed to at last comprehend his true danger, for he lost that air of bravado and turned a sickly color.

“Good, that’s better,” Nicholas said softly. “I think we understand each other. Here is the bargain. You stay away from her. Far away. Don’t look at her, don’t contact her. If she attends a function and you are there, you leave at once. For the next few months at least, I suggest a sojourn in the country until my temper cools. If you are in town and we run into each other, I can’t answer for my self-restraint. I think that part is clear enough.”

Wynn opened his mouth as if to object, but wisely closed it. His pale eyes had narrowed to slits and his hands shook. Men who terrorized women were rarely anything but cowards, and Wynn was no exception.

“Let me go on. If you say one vile word about her, I’ll destroy you. Socially, financially, in every way possible. The Manning family has influence in every corner of England and, for that matter, the Continent as well. The prince regent is a friend of mine. You’ll be shunned, destitute, and banished. If it appeals to you to test my word, just spread the rumor Caroline was involved in any way with that wager.”

“If he does, he’ll answer to me also.”

The lazy interjection had a steely undertone and Wynn jerked at the sound of another voice, whirling around. “Manderville,” he choked out, looking positively ill. There were now beads of sweat on his brow.

It
was
Derek. He stood in the doorway, leaning one shoulder against the frame. “Your footman seemed disinclined to refuse me entrance with Nick here already. I see he has everything well in hand, though I admit when I heard the Duke of Rothay had arrived, I expected bloodshed.”

“It could still happen,” Nicholas said, enunciating each word carefully, “if he insults the lady again. What brings you here, Derek?”

“My fiancée.” Derek made the announcement with casual aplomb, looking at Wynn. “I think you two met this morning when she delivered a vase of flowers to your thick skull, Wynn. I was ordered to also disabuse his lordship of any notion he might bother Lady Wynn and not suffer for it. I see you beat me to it.”

“I could press charges against her for assault,” Wynn said, but it was a weak attempt at defiance, belied by the look in his eyes. “What she saw was a romantic moment and she misunderstood. Caroline enticed me, and when we were caught, she denied it. I—”

Nicholas moved then, in two strides catching the man by the shirt and slamming him up against the wall so hard the painting above the fireplace wobbled. “You might just have pushed me too far.”

Wynn gasped as Nicholas brought his forearm up. The man’s face turned a dull red, his breath whistling out as Nicholas applied enough pressure to make sure his sincerity wasn’t misunderstood.

After a moment, Derek drawled, “I realize killing him holds a definite appeal, but if you intend to let him live out his miserable life, you might want to let him go now, Nick.”

His friend was right, and Nicholas managed to loosen his grip with effort, stepping back. Wynn drooped, his hand massaging his windpipe, his pale eyes watering.

Nicholas said tersely, “Remember every single word I said. Caroline is under my protection in all ways, including my name.”

“I think you’ve made your point,” Derek observed drily.

They left together, rapidly striding out of the town house past the nervous footman. On the sunny street outside, Nicholas glanced at his friend. “Thank you for wanting to step in on Caroline’s behalf.”

“I went to tell you about the morning’s events first, but apparently you’d already been informed.” Derek grinned. “I feel rather useless after all, but I could have helped you dispose of the body. I doubt somehow he’d be missed.”

“Her driver came and told me. Huw seems to have a genuine affection for her and I am grateful.”

“
You
have affection for her too if your arrival in Aylesbury or your current state of affront are any indication.” Derek paused. “When you said she was under the protection of your name, did I interpret it correctly?”

“She hasn’t agreed yet, but I have my hopes Caroline will marry me.” Nicholas cocked a brow. “Speaking of such things, did I not hear you say your ‘fiancée’? When did this come about and who the hell is she?”

“This came about recently and is the direct result of the wager in many ways. Annabel has made me reexamine some of the priorities in my life.”

Nicholas registered surprise. “Your uncle’s young ward?”

“The same.” Derek hesitated and shrugged. “I’ve been in love with her for quite some time but was too stubborn to admit it. I almost lost her.”

“I see.” Nicholas had met Miss Reid of course, but in view of the fact she was an eligible young miss, he had steered clear of further association. Since he knew she’d become engaged recently, he now understood some of Derek’s preoccupation in the past few months.

They looked at each other as a carriage rolled by on the street, the warmth of the afternoon a cocoon, mutual amusement lighting their faces. Nicholas said, “I’m glad for you. She’s a lovely girl.”

“I’m happy for you as well.”

“It isn’t settled yet,” Nicholas muttered, “but hopefully it soon will be. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

He swung into his carriage and rapped on the ceiling.

 

What a disaster. Not just the day, but her life.

Caroline stared in the mirror, seeing the remnants of tears on her cheeks, the disordered state of her hair, and the hollow look in her eyes. She’d set things in motion already, sending a letter to an agent about listing the town house for sale. Afterward she’d gone upstairs to lie down and eventually fallen into an uneasy sleep.

It was hard to define her roiling emotions, she thought as she plucked the pins from her hair and reached for her brush. Catastrophe had struck—she shuddered at the memory of Franklin’s bruising hands on her—but even though she’d been rescued by Annabel’s resourcefulness, she had no illusions her husband’s cousin would keep his knowledge about her role in the wager a secret.

The undeniable truth about her relationship with the Devilish Duke would be made public, and even if Derek Drake denied any involvement with her, all the
haut ton
would know she offered. Her status would go from unattainable to promiscuous the moment the word got out, and she doubted Franklin would waste much time.

A traitorous, illogical part of her didn’t care about the whispers. When weighed against her never having lain in Nicholas’s arms, never having tasted his seductive kisses, or felt the warmth of his smile . . . well, the cost of social ostracism was high, but she knew it was worth it. She’d gone from existing to living.

She murmured in abstracted self-mockery,

Pope’s “A Farewell to London” took on a whole new cynical meaning, even though it was one of her favorite works.

The sharp rap on her door was perfunctory, because it opened before she could answer it. As she turned around, Nicholas stepped into the room, looking tall and very male in the sanctuary of pastel colors and dainty furnishings.

She couldn’t help a small gasp of surprise at his audacity, though she knew him well enough by now to expect such reckless acts. This situation became more scandalous by the moment. Now the Devilish Duke was in her bedroom. The entire household would be agog.

And tomorrow, no doubt, all London would be talking about it.

Perversely, she was happy to see him despite the arrogance of his arrival in her bedroom uninvited. He stood there, his gleaming raven hair slightly ruffled, his dark eyes holding a somber light. As always, she was struck by the magnetic power of his presence. If she had even tried to speak, she would have no idea what to say. His ill-advised and unexpected arrival left her completely without words.

He spoke first in simple explanation. “I needed to see you. To be sure you were unharmed.”

When she still didn’t say anything, he added, “Huw told me what happened.”

Caroline found her voice, his calm intrusion into her bedroom still a shock. “Did it occur to you I might come downstairs if word was sent up you wished to see me?”

Nicholas just smiled at the outrage in her tone. “Had I thought it over, perhaps. I didn’t want to wait.”

Why did he have to do this to her now? When she was so vulnerable and shaken. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said, but it wasn’t with conviction. Her hand had started to tremble and she quickly set aside her brush. “I’m not even dressed.”

“I like you best undressed,” he responded, his gaze riveting, heated. He moved toward her. “Did that bastard hurt you? Everyone says no, but I thought you might need me.”

Did she need him? God, yes. More than she realized, and every objection she had to his assumption he could simply walk into her household and invade her bedroom vanished. If everything was already in shambles, what did she care if Nicholas was reported to all and sundry as feeling he had the perfect right to stroll in unannounced while she wore only her chemise? Regardless of her actions, all London would hear about their association soon enough and the comfort of his arms beckoned.

“I . . . ,” she began, but stopped, not at all certain what she was going to say. A small sob escaped.

She rarely cried. Since the first night of her marriage, she had dismissed tears as useless.

“My love.” Nicholas was there, sweeping her up, settling onto the small bench in front of her dressing table with her body cradled in his arms as if she were something precious and breakable. “It’s over. I’ve taken care of it—of him. You’re safe. With me.”

Had he just called her his love? Of all the endearments that flowed so easily from his lips, he’d never used that one before. Caroline rested her head against his chest and allowed herself the luxury of thinking he meant it. The scent of him evoked memories of idyllic interludes and luxurious pleasure.