An Indecent Proposition (5 page)

She felt a small nervous smile twitch her lips. “In a good way, Your Grace, or in an unpleasant one?”

N
ow, this was an unexpected development indeed. Of all the faces he’d thought he might see behind that veil, Caroline Wynn’s was not one of them. Nicholas had considered at length which of the ladies of his acquaintance might contemplate participation in their outrageous little rivalry, but the woman sitting across the table never occurred to him.

Yet there she was, with a slight lift to one of her auburn brows at his astounded expression, just a hint of amusement in those much talked about, magnificent silver eyes. The seedy little inn indicated her serious approach to the matter, but he still found it hard to believe
she
was the one who’d sent that provocative note.

The beautiful young widow of the late Lord Wynn had a reputation for being aloof to the point of discouraging even the most determined of suitors. He knew her only in passing, but yes, she was right, both he and Derek had been introduced to her at some point. Her cool, withdrawn exterior sent an obvious message to any predatory male that she was hardly interested in an entanglement, so he had merely admired her undeniable loveliness and dismissed any idea of further acquaintance. Besides, she was younger than the sophisticated ladies he usually took to bed, and still very marriageable. If he could recall correctly, she’d been wedded to the viscount for several years before he suddenly died, and then in mourning for even longer than necessary, but still she was probably at most twenty-three, if not a bit younger.

Definitely still marriageable. Lushly attractive—it went without saying—but dangerous to any man who valued his independence.

Which he did. Maybe
independence
was the wrong choice of word. What he valued was slightly more complex.

Nicholas felt a flicker of alarm. He sought something diplomatic to say. “My lady, you are very lovely, of course, so the surprise is hardly a bad one, but this does seem a bit reckless in your situation.”

Derek had a bemused expression on his face. Nicholas could only imagine the same thoughts were running through his friend’s mind at an equally swift pace. Derek said, “Er . . . I agree. I have no objection, believe me, but you shouldn’t—”

“Squander my virtue?” she interrupted, demurely lowering her long lashes. Her eyes were truly a remarkable color, not pale blue but actually a pure gray. Auburn hair, rich and glossy, glowed against her pale flawless skin. Her striking beauty made the squalid room look even more drab, more deplorable. Slender fingers held the stem of a wineglass. “Please remember, gentlemen, I am a widow. My virtue has already been squandered.”

An interesting way of describing one’s marriage, Nicholas couldn’t help but think. He took a drink from his own glass and tried to analyze how he felt about this twist to the situation. “You’re very young. You will most likely marry again. I doubt your future husband would approve of your involvement in this little wager.”

“Your Grace, I have no intention of ever marrying again. I don’t
have
to wed, as I am self-sufficient financially, and if I ever
should
remarry, it would be none of his business what I did or whom I did it with anyway.” She gave them both a challenging look.

Like hell it wouldn’t be
, Nicholas thought, but he admired the way she lifted her chin and dared them to say otherwise. It was a double standard—he knew that—but it existed. Men liked promiscuous women; they just rarely married them.

She went on in a reasonable tone, as if they weren’t sitting in a tawdry inn somewhere discussing a planned illicit rendezvous based on a drunken bet. “Since I am a widow, I am allowed a great deal more freedom. No one would ever think I would do such a thing anyway.”

“I wouldn’t have,” Nicholas agreed wryly, speculating on just how ineffectual her deceased husband must have been in performance of his husbandly duty. He’d known the former Lord Wynn only in passing, and he’d seemed pleasant enough as an acquaintance. But then again, how males treated their casual friends and how they regarded their wives were often two different matters.

“Maybe you really know nothing about me, Your Grace.”

She might have the delectable appearance of Venus incarnate, but it had never occurred to him the sensuality to match might simmer under that tempting exterior. The Northern ice cap was rumored to be warmer than Lady Wynn.

“I concede I don’t.” His gaze held hers.

Her unique eyes reflected a flicker of uncertainty as they looked at each other and the moment held for a long heartbeat. And then another.

Oh yes, he was intrigued.

“Thank you for acknowledging it,” she said without any inflection at all.

But those expressive eyes were something else altogether. He knew when he affected a woman and this seemed to be one of those situations.

With the standoffish Lady Wynn? How damned interesting.

Derek interjected, “If we are to never reveal your identity, my lady, explain to me how you are ever going to settle the contest.”

She gave a small nod, as if she’d expected the question. “I have it all thought out. With your endorsement, I’ll publish the results in the society column of the paper, under the cloak of anonymity, of course. Since my name will be left out of it, I will be comfortable writing down my frank thoughts.”

That statement was alone enough to evoke the same spirit of combativeness that had gotten them into trouble in the first place, but since Derek didn’t blink an eye, Nicholas also contrived to look bland.

“Fine,” they said in unison, and then glanced at each other with mutual male annoyance.

She laughed with delightful spontaneity, lighting up her already very lovely face and adding animation to those haunting eyes.

Damn, she was a very tempting prospect. If they really were going to go through with this, Lady Wynn was a captivating candidate. It was common opinion that she was a true beauty, her heavy, lustrous hair framing a delicate face with high cheekbones, a straight small nose, and a soft pink mouth, her unusual eyes long-lashed and large. The fact she was built with willowy grace, her body curvaceous yet slender, was something plenty of men had noticed and commented on. The fullness of her breasts under the bodice of her fashionable gown drew Nicholas’s eye.

Derek apparently wasn’t blind either. His friend murmured, “You sound as if you have made up your mind, Lady Wynn.”

“That depends.” She adjusted a fold in her dark emerald silk skirt, the hue of her gown a complement to her vivid coloring. “How would we work this exactly? We will have to be extremely discreet.”

She truly was sincere, Nicholas decided, his initial resistance to the idea gone.

And he was damned interested.

It had been a while since that had happened. Lady Wynn was a fascinating young woman. Since her persona had always been distant and cold, not at all what he sought in a lover, he’d never considered her in any context, especially the one they were currently discussing. He spoke without thinking. “Give us each a week of your time.”

Derek turned to look at him, a glimmer of open surprise in his eyes at the time period suggested.

Where the impulsive suggestion had come from, Nicholas wasn’t sure, but he did feel one night with the beautiful woman sitting across from them would not be enough. The mystery of why she’d do something so unexpected both jolted him and drew him in. Nicholas shrugged and smiled. “I’m sure you’ll agree lovemaking is a varied world. Getting to know your partner is also beneficial. A week in each other’s company, in and out of bed, seems logical for a fair conclusion.”

Whatever Lady Wynn expected, it obviously wasn’t that. She seemed nonplussed for a moment, but then she nodded slowly. One loose ringlet of coppery hair brushed the ivory column of her neck and he watched it slide along her smooth skin with almost unwilling fascination. She said, “I suppose if I have come this far, I can agree to that. I’ll come up with some excuse to be gone that amount of time.”

An outburst from a small quarrel between some of the extremely questionable patrons in the taproom echoed around the room, along with a few rough words not meant for a lady’s ears, but she didn’t blink an eye.

Yes, her poise was remarkable.

“I have a small country estate in Essex.” Nicholas tried to remember the last time he’d been there, and failed. When he retired to the country, he went to the much larger family seat in Kent. The smaller holding had been part of his inheritance, and it sat empty except for the minimal staff there to maintain it. “It’s tucked into the countryside not near any towns in particular, but rather pretty and quiet if I recall, and close enough to London we wouldn’t have to travel for days. It should be perfect for a quiet, discreet retreat.”

A week with a woman he didn’t even know was more than impulsive; it was downright irrational. Usually a night here and there was plenty, his detachment legendary because his transitory relationships did not demand anything but passing amusement. He didn’t keep a mistress, because he just didn’t need one. Any number of ladies would oblige him on very short notice and he took for granted that if he wanted female companionship, he could have it whenever he wished.

However, an insidious voice whispered in his head, Lady Wynn’s untried status in the art of sexual enjoyment made her more captivating than most. He wasn’t interested in deflowering some virgin, but she wasn’t one, and her dazzling beauty and delicate femininity overrode his sense of caution over the knowledge she was still young and very desirable on the marriage mart.

She’d stated clearly she didn’t wish to marry again, and he believed her; the conviction in her tone unmistakable.

A week of initiating her into the pleasures of the flesh sounded like quite a pleasant distraction from his busy schedule. Parliament was out right now and he could let his steward know how to reach him. . . .

Yes, he thought, studying the sensual fullness of her lower lip, the swell of ivory flesh above the bodice of her low-cut evening gown, the faint color in her cheeks as she blushed at his overt appraisal. A week would probably be easy enough to endure in her company.

She blushed. How remarkable. Coarse words didn’t do what one look could.

“Are we agreed?” He set aside his wineglass and lifted a brow in question.

“I suppose I can find a similar place.” Derek nodded. He lounged in his chair, also gazing at their beautiful companion as if he approved in full measure. “As long as Lady Wynn understands the implications of what would happen to her reputation should we be discovered. Neither of us will ever breathe a word, but attempted discretion is not infallible.”

Caroline Wynn glanced away for a moment, and her mouth tightened. Then she looked back and squared her slender shoulders. “Naturally, I am not anxious for a scandal, but if it happens, it will be of my own making and I hope the risk proves . . . well, to be worth it.”

Now, there was a challenge if he’d ever heard one.

Nicholas smiled lazily. “It will be, my lady.”

She didn’t smile back but simply looked at him with those remarkable eyes, the only betrayal of any emotion in the slight tremble of her lips. “You sound very confident, Your Grace.”

Was he? Perhaps, but it was tempered by how little he knew of her. Maybe that was why he suggested a full week. She was an enigma in a world he often found all too predictable. “We both are, I’m sure, or we wouldn’t have made the wager in the first place, now, would we?”

“I believe this is settled, then,” she said, getting to her feet. “Feel free to contact me with the specifics of the arrangements. We can communicate in the same way as before. Send it to the same address and they will bring it to me.”

He and Derek both rose politely.

“My driver is in the taproom, waiting. He’ll see me out.”

Nicholas felt a protective protest rise, the rough crowd in the other room a concern. “I’ll walk you to the carriage.”

“No, thank you, Your Grace. Even here, I prefer to not be seen with you.”

That calm, collected declaration rendered him silent. For most of his adult life he’d been besieged by women who were more than eager to be seen on his arm. This was new. The sting of it surprised him a little. Why would he care one way or the other?

She picked up her hat and put it on, adjusted the veil over her face, and left in a swirl of emerald green and a delicate hint of floral perfume.

“
S
uch a lovely party. Don’t you agree, my lord?” Absently Derek Drake glanced down at the woman in his arms. Good God, for a moment he couldn’t remember her name. How unsettling.

Amelia. Yes, sister to a friend, which was why he was dancing with her in the first place. Horace had foisted her on him and he’d agreed to take her out on the floor, mostly because if one attends a ball, one should at least make the pretense of enjoying oneself.

Derek wasn’t, but then again, he hadn’t expected to.

What he’d come for had nothing to do with entertainment. His motives were more akin to self-flagellation.

Very productive, that, he thought in self-mockery as he waltzed across the floor. His partner was very short, and Derek was a tall man, and he expected they looked a bit absurd together. Out loud, he said, “Yes, lovely.”

That type of banal conversation would certainly win him dazzling titles as a superlative lover, wouldn’t it? Lucky for him, Amelia seemed to find his reply gratifying, for she beamed up at him as if he’d said something clever.

“Quite.”

What would he say to that? Nothing seemed best. His reputed silver tongue was lead coated this evening. He felt immense gratitude when the music dwindled to the end and he led her off the floor, bowed over her plump hand, and fled.