JORDAN Nicole (28 page)

He bent to wrestle with his first boot. “Husbands are not expected to pleasure their wives, either,” he remarked provocatively. “But I can safely promise that we will find connubial bliss in our marriage bed.”

Roslyn’s mouth curved without humor. “I have no doubt you would make a splendid lover, your grace, but you would likely be a wretched husband.”

“No worse than most any other man.”

“I take leave to differ.”

Not responding for a or the moment, he pulled on his second boot with difficulty. “I’ll wager that Haviland has never aroused you as I do,” he said then.

Roslyn fell silent. No man had ever aroused her the way Arden could. Just looking at him now rekindled the delicious sparks between them. She swallowed, aware of her humming nerves, the hollow flip-flopping sensation in her stomach, the tingling warmth between her thighs.

“Isn’t that true?” Arden prodded when she wouldn’t answer.

“I can’t deny that I feel a physical attraction for you,” Roslyn replied, her tone grudging.

“But you still hope to marry Haviland.”

She looked away. “What I want is no longer the question. I couldn’t possibly marry him now.”

“Why not?”

“Because of…what we just did. Even if Haviland were willing to overlook the fact that I am no longer a maiden, his grandmother never would. She is such a high-stickler, she would be appalled if she were forced to welcome a wanton into the family.”

“Which is why you are better off marrying me.”

“I cannot agree.”

Standing, he strolled over to her chair and bent down. “I intend to change your mind, love.”

Before Roslyn could even think to pull away, he kissed her…giving her a long, lingering, completely devastating reminder of the sensual power he held over her.

When he straightened, leaving her dazed and longing, his smile was almost smug. “If you won’t accept my proposal just yet, you should at least see the wisdom of becoming engaged for the time being. An official betrothal will deter a scandal before it has time to spread.”

She knew he was right. The gossip about them would be relentless unless it could be mitigated by a betrothal. The matrimonial capture of one of the most eligible noblemen in the kingdom would be a nine days’ wonder.

But it was the duke’s choice of words that interested Roslyn most. “What do you mean, ‘for the time being’?”

“Our betrothal only needs to be temporary. When the gossip eventually dies down, we can discuss whether to end it or go through with the marriage.”

Roslyn’s lips parted in surprise. The idea of a temporary betrothal had merit. She was not a total fool. She knew very well she had to at least consider accepting his proposal, even though she hated to admit it.

She didn’t reply as she finished putting on her stockings and shoes. When she was done, Roslyn remained in the chair and watched absently as Arden tamped down the fire with ashes, then removed the kettle from the hook and carried it to the kitchen stove.

When a knock sounded on the door, they were both fully dressed and ready to leave.

Roslyn reached the door first. The burly man standing there tugged his forelock. “I’m John Coachman, Miss Loring. I’m to take ye wherever ye wish to go.”

Arden answered for her over her shoulder. “We wish to go to Freemantle Park.”

“Very good, yer grace.”

When the coachman returned to his horses, the duke ushered Roslyn outside and closed the cottage door behind them. As he escorted her to the carriage, he murmured a low explanation. “We’ll return to the Park for now. We need to inform Lady Freemantle about our betrothal so she can help staunch the gossip. And we never did have tea.”

Roslyn rolled her eyes in annoyance and exasperation. She couldn’t believe he was taking this all so calmly. She couldn’t possibly feel the same equanimity.

When he handed her inside the hooded barouche and settled beside her, she felt Arden’s thigh press against hers. Instantly a shock of awareness shot through her. She quickly edged away from him, yet she couldn’t forget the memory of that hard-muscled male body moving over hers, within her. She knew the image would be forever seared into her memory.

Roslyn swore under her breath. How could she think clearly with Arden so near? She had to order her chaotic thoughts somehow. So serious a decision called for careful, rational analysis.

She didn’t want to wed him, or even enter into a temporary betrothal with him. But if she didn’t agree, what kind of future would she have? Marriage to any other gentleman was doubtful now. If she refused his offer, she would be condemning herself—and possibly her sisters—to notoriety for the rest of her life.

She shot the duke a sideways glance. There was always the remote possibility that their friendship could grow into something deeper. A formal engagement might miraculously give them a chance to fall in love with each other.

Roslyn bit her lip, trying to convince herself.

Of course, there was always the danger of giving her heart to him without her love being returned. It would be disastrous to harbor a one-sided ardor like her mother had done with her father in the early days of their marriage. Without mutual love, a husband and wife could so easily degenerate into bitter antagonists.

Did she dare risk it? Roslyn wondered. She would have to keep her own feelings for Arden safely under control. She most certainly could not let herself fall in love with him.

But if she could manage to keep her emotional distance, perhaps a betrothal was the best course.

And it would only be temporary, Roslyn promised herself. She could give their relationship time to blossom. If, however, Arden still hadn’t come to love her by the end of summer, then she would break their engagement, regardless of the consequences to her reputation.

September was only two months away. She could keep her heart safe for that long.

“Very well, your grace, you win,” she said reluctantly. “We can consider ourselves betrothed for the time being.”

“Call me by my given name. If we are betrothed, we should be on a first-name basis.”

“Very well…Drew.”

He offered her a slow smile. “You are showing excellent judgment, my dear Roslyn.”

She responded with a barely muffled snort. “It would be the first time today,” she muttered. “My judgment thus far has been deplorable.”

Leaning back against the squabs, Roslyn shut her eyes. Her head suddenly felt as if it were splitting open, and she still had to face Winifred with the news of their betrothal—heaven forbid. Her resultant shudder had little to do with the damp chill of her gown.

“You will have to inform Lady Freemantle about our engagement,” Roslyn told the duke. “No doubt she will be ecstatic, but I don’t have the fortitude just now to endure her raptures.”

“Leave it to me,” Drew said blandly.

He settled back in the carriage seat, yet he was not as nonchalant as he strove to appear. He was honor-bound to marry Roslyn now. He’d chosen her for his bride, and he had every intention of following through—although given her fierce reticence, he’d decided it wiser to conceal his resolve under the guise of a temporary arrangement.

Still, his discomfort was not caused by the parson’s noose hanging around his neck, Drew mused. In truth, he didn’t feel trapped as he’d expected.

No, the trouble was he was being drawn in too deep. Roslyn made him feel things he’d never felt for a woman. His instinctive reaction was to pull back—doubtless a reflexive response to being considered prey for so long.

Granted, the pleasure of making love to her was so much greater than with any of his previous lovers, even the most skilled of his mistresses. She made passion new and exciting again. Yet Roslyn roused much more than a physical response from him. There was something so unexpectedly natural about the way he felt when he held her. Something so real and right.

A damned dangerous sensation, Drew acknowledged to himself.

He would do better to keep their relationship strictly carnal. And yet some part of him welcomed the change. Until now his life had been rather cold and empty, and yes, passionless. His aristocratic upbringing had left no room for sentiment. He’d been raised to be emotionally detached, to rein in his feelings.

With Roslyn, he couldn’t remain detached. Indeed, he’d never felt more alive than when he was with her. She was a delight to be around, whether she was arguing with him or writhing beneath him in ecstasy.

Drew frowned as he gazed out the carriage window. Despite his misgivings, he actuallywanted marriage with Roslyn now. Or more specifically, he wanted the exhilaration he always felt with her.

Their marriage would not be based merely on convenience or even desire, he knew. He could imagine spending time with her even after they wed, sharing their day-to-day lives in addition to long lustful nights in their marriage bed.

His glance shifted to Roslyn as she sat beside him. His loins tightened when he remembered kissing her a short while ago. She had responded with mutual desire, her lips longing and hungry….

Drew fought the urge to pull her close now and resume where they had left off in the cottage. He didn’t want to push his luck.

He had obtained Roslyn’s agreement to a temporary betrothal. Now he had the much harder task of securing her hand in marriage for good.

Chapter Thirteen

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I confess astonishment that the duke offered for you, dear Roslyn, since he is the most elusive marriage catch in England. I am even more astonished that you agreed, given your distaste for convenient marriages. But I can certainly see your dilemma.

—Fanny to Roslyn

As predicted, Winifred was amazed yet thrilled to learn of the betrothal. The news even overshadowed the distress of having a thief invade her home. When Roslyn reported that they’d lost the culprit’s trail but planned to involve Bow Street in the search, Winifred merely nodded distractedly.

“You were brave to follow him, my girl, but I don’t like that you endangered yourself again. It is a wonder you didn’t break your neck—and it will be even more astonishing if you don’t catch the grippe.” She turned to the duke. “Your grace, it is so fortunate that you were there to rescue Roslyn from her folly. In any case, my brooch is safe, since I’d hidden it with my stockings instead of my jewel case. But now let us discuss your splendid news! I cannot tell you how happy that makes me. I had hoped you might be forming atendre for Roslyn, but I wouldn’t let myself count on it.”

When Winifred proposed holding an impromptu dinner two evenings hence to celebrate their betrothal and to invite their closest friends, Roslyn would have politely refused, but the duke—or Drew, as she had to remember to start calling him—accepted with alacrity.

Lacking the energy to argue, Roslyn made her escape from the Park with the excuse that she needed to return home and change into dry clothing. The Goodey coachman drove her in the squire’s carriage, while the Freemantle butler arranged to have her gig delivered to Danvers Hall before nightfall.

Drew planned to borrow some dry clothing from her ladyship’s late husband’s wardrobe and use the Freemantle barouche to return to London, since it would likely be tomorrow at the earliest before his curricle wheel was repaired. But he promised to call on Roslyn the following morning to further discuss their betrothal.

Roslyn arrived home disconsolate and chilled to the bone. Much to her gratitude, the Danvers housekeeper, Mrs. Simpkin, plied her with hot tea and ordered a steaming bath filled for her, then bustled off to the kitchens to supervise the preparation of a special supper with her favorite dishes.

Comforted by the elderly housekeeper’s mothering, Roslyn soaked for a long while, so that her body was much warmer and her spirits a little higher by the time she emerged from the tub.

She had sent a message to Tess Blanchard asking her to call at the Hall as soon as possible since she had important news to impart. Roslyn wanted her friend to hear the news directly from her. And even more, she wanted to gain her advice.

Tess arrived in time for supper, and while the two of them ate in the small dining room, Roslyn told her about the disastrous afternoon that had led to her unwanted betrothal, not sparing any of the details, not even the part where she had succumbed to Drew’s passion and given him her innocence.

Tess remained thoughtful as she listened, but shook her head wryly at the conclusion. “So Winifred succeeded in her matchmaking after all. She has been trying to pair you with Arden ever since Arabella’s wedding.”

Roslyn smiled faintly. Tess had no fondness for matchmaking, since she believed matters of the heart were best left to natural courses. “Yes, but I cannot blame Winifred in this instance. My own weakness was at fault. I couldn’t resist him. So what do you think?” Roslyn pressed. “Was I right to accept the duke’s offer for a temporary betrothal?”

“I think,” Tess said slowly, “that under the circumstances, you had no other choice. And your rationale for remaining betrothed for the summer is a good one. You need to allow time for love to develop between you. It’s possible that love can blossom given proper encouragement.”

Roslyn was not surprised by her friend’s cautious optimism. Tess had a more positive view of love and marriage than any of the Loring sisters, since she’d sincerely loved her betrothed before his death at Waterloo two years ago. Her heart was only just now coming out of mourning, and she was debating whether to reenter the lists of the Marriage Mart.

“But,” Tess added a qualification, “from everything I have heard about Arden, it won’t be easy to make him fall in love with you.”

Roslyn made a face. “I don’t even mean to try. I would never think of overtly pursuing him. In the first place, he despises being the target for covetous females. And in the second, he is perfectly aware of the successful techniques of arousing a man’s ardor, since he taught me himself. He would know exactly what I was attempting.”

“But you could manage a more subtle approach.”

She shook her head. “I have no intention of trying to coerce him to love me. If he is truly serious about wedding me, he will have to take responsibility for fostering a love match himself.”