JORDAN Nicole (34 page)

He kept his expression bland. “My feelings for her are private, minx. I won’t share them with anyone, not even you.”

“Perhaps you should. I expect I could help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Come now, Drew…I have already begun. I sang your praises to Roslyn last night quite fulsomely. But now I feel the need to offer you some sisterly advice.”

As the humor of Eleanor’s offer struck him, Drew shook his head wryly. “There are too many matchmakers overseeing our courtship as it is. Besides, you are hardly one to advise me on my betrothal. You’ve had two broken engagements since your comeout, and you are responsible for both.”

“But I broke those for good reason. And I think that makes me something of an expert on betrothals. You really should learn from my experience.”

“Just what do you think I can I learn from you, minx?”

“I’m sure there is something. If nothing else, I can tell you how Roslyn might think. I am a woman, so I can give you a woman’s perspective.”

She did have a point, Drew mused. Only a short while ago, he’d concluded that his courtship of Roslyn wasn’t working and that he would have to try and win her heart if he wanted her to go through with marriage to him.

Leaning back, he crossed his arms over his chest. “So tell me how I can make her fall in love with me.”

Eleanor’s eyes widened. “I thought you didn’t believe in love.”

“I don’t. But Roslyn does. And she doesn’t want to marry unless it’s a love match. Our betrothal will allow me time to court her formally, but I need to do more than that.”

“Howdoes she feel about you, Drew? She doesn’t appear to be in love with you yet, or at least she didn’t seem eager to set a date for the wedding.”

“She isn’t. I suspect she will be happy for any excuse to call off the engagement.”

“Do you think you could ever love her?” Eleanor asked curiously.

That wasn’t a question he could answer, since he wasn’t certain he was even capable of love. “I don’t know,” he replied finally.

“Hmm,” Eleanor murmured, her countenance thoughtful. “So why do you suppose she doesn’t love you yet?”

“I don’t know the answer to that, either.”

“I expect it’s because you treat her like one of your highflyers.”

That was precisely what he’d done, Drew admitted. His relationship with Roslyn had begun when he’d mistaken her for a Cyprian, and all his tutoring had been designed to teach her how to become an even better one.

Seeing his arrested expression, Eleanor crowed softly. “I am right. You have been trying to seduce her instead of court her.”

Drew frowned. “What if I have?”

“Well, it makes all the difference. If you seriously want to woo her, then you are going about it all the wrong way.”

His mouth pressed together at the irony. It disgruntled him that he had to woo Roslyn at all when he’d never had to trouble himself with wooing any woman before. But he was at least willing to hear what Eleanor had to say on the subject.

“So what is wrong with my wooing?”

“You are focusing on seduction, not romance. The two are not the same thing.”

“Romance?” he echoed. “What the devil are you talking about?”

“Miss Roslyn is not a doxy, Drew. She is a lady with well-bred sensibilities. You cannot rely on physical persuasion to make her love you.”

“I realize that.”

“So you need to romance her.”

His expression turned exasperated. “Very well, how do I romance her?”

“First of all, you must think of her as a person, not a possession or a prize to be won. Not a business transaction, either.”

“I think of her as a person.”

Eleanor looked skeptical. “Do you?”

When Drew didn’t reply, she went on. “You need to be honest with her as well. Honesty shows that you respect her. Along those same lines, you have to at least pretend you are not interested in any other women but her. You can’t keep a mistress while you are courting her.”

“I haven’t had a mistress for months.”

“Good. Then remain that way. I would imagine that after Roslyn’s experiences, fidelity is very important to her—just as it is to me.” Eleanor frowned darkly for a moment before continuing. “Listen to what she has to say.”

“I do listen.”

“But do you reallyhear what she says?”

Just today Roslyn had accused him of not hearing her, of not taking her complaint to heart. “What else?” Drew asked.

“You should ask about her dreams.”

He already knew about Roslyn’s dreams—and they didn’t include falling in love with him and wedding him. Rather they were all about falling in love with and marrying her neighbor.

“What else?” he repeated.

“Well, you could shower her with kindness. Small, thoughtful acts. It needn’t be elaborate. The simplest things are often the most romantic.”

“Such as?”

“Stroll with her in a meadow and pick a wildflower for her. She will appreciate a violet more than a hothouse rose. Take her for a drive, just the two of you.”

“I already have,” Drew said wryly. “We were caught in a ferocious thunderstorm.”

“Try something else, then. In romance, it is the tender moments that count most.”

“That isn’t the advice Fanny Irwin gave her.”

Eleanor looked at him in surprise. “I doubt Fanny knows much about romance, since she must earn her living pleasing her patrons.” She looked at him earnestly. “Thatis what I mean, Drew. You need to learn how to please Roslyn, but not in a physical way. In fact, I think you should have no physical contact whatsoever. Most assuredly you shouldn’t kiss her. Not even her hand. She will see the change in you at once.”

“You want me to ignore her?”

“Not ignore. Just don’t use your sensual powers to pursue her. It will confuse her if nothing else. She will start to wonder if you intend to make any advances toward her ever again—and she will start to long for it.”

“What about gifts?”

Eleanor pursed her lips. “I expect that to someone like Roslyn, the small intimacies mean more than the most extravagant gift. But if you do give her a gift, make certain it has special meaning for her.”

“Jewels don’t work; I’ve tried.”

“I would think not. You can find out what she likes from her friends.”

“I know what she likes. Literature and political treatises.”

“So give her a book,” Eleanor advised. “You have a priceless library collection. I’m sure you can come up with something that would please her, that shows you are thinking of her.” She hesitated. “That is what truly is important, Drew. You have to think more of her than of yourself. Certainly you must be concerned with her welfare. For instance, when you take her to visit your mother, you must do your best to protect her.”

“I intend to.”

“I hope so,” Eleanor said with a shudder. “You know what an icy demeanor and razor-edged tongue the duchess has. If she doesn’t freeze you with her stare, she flays you alive.”

Drew couldn’t help but smile at that description of his illustrious parent.

Eleanor smiled in return. “Actually, I believe it will be good for Roslyn to see you in a different light. It will give you the chance to show her your true self.”

“I’ve shown Roslyn more of myself than any other woman but you—and you aren’t really a woman to me.”

“Thank you very much!” Eleanor said with mock indignation.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I know. You see me as a sister. That should work well with Roslyn. And she needs to understand why you don’t readily warm to people. She cannot fall in love with you unless she knows the real you.”

“How did you get to be so wise, minx?”

Eleanor made a face. “Wisdom never did me any good. And I am not so wise. I simply know how I want to be courted.”

“None of your suitors were clever enough to comprehend what you wanted,” Drew remarked.

“Not a one,” she said softly, looking as if her thoughts were a million miles away.

“All right,” he capitulated. “Go order your horse saddled.”

Eleanor seemed to shake herself before offering him an impish smile. “Oh, I didn’t really want to ride with you. I did that this morning. I just came to make certain the course of love was running smoothly for you.”

“You little baggage,” Drew said, laughing. “It’s a wonder Marcus didn’t bind and gag you as soon as you were old enough to let down your skirts.”

“True,” she replied, before she rose and sauntered out the door, leaving Drew chuckling.

But his amusement soon faded as his brow knitted in a thoughtful frown. Eleanor was very likely right. To win Roslyn’s heart, he had to romance her rather than rely on his usual methods of wooing.

Roslyn could not understand the change in Drew when he called on her the next morning. Instead of wicked and knowing, his smile was warm and amiable. Instead of sharp and cynical, his conversation was genuinely companionable. And he didn’t so much as touch her hand.

His visit then was exceedingly brief, too—only long enough to tell her of the arrangements he’d made for their trip to his ducal family seat in Kent the following Monday to meet his mother, the Duchess of Arden. They would stay overnight at Arden Castle and return the next morning.

When Drew suggested that Roslyn take her abigail with them, her brows drew together. “Because your mother will expect it for propriety’s sake?”

“No, because you will be more comfortable traveling with me in my coach. I don’t want you to worry about my trying to seduce you again.”

His consideration took her aback a little, but Roslyn didn’t argue with him, since she would be relieved to have her maid along to act as chaperone and prevent any danger of repeating their shameless passion in his coach.

Nor did she mention her reluctance to make the visit at all. Privately Roslyn thought there was no point in her being presented to his mother for inspection and approval when she didn’t intend to wed Drew, yet she realized they needed to keep up the pretense of their betrothal since it was much too soon to break it off.

To her surprise, she saw nothing more of Drew until the day of the journey. Deplorably, Roslyn found herself missing him. And the thought that he’d given up pursuing her was absurdly disappointing, even though she firmly told herself it would be better if he’d finally come to agree with her view that they wouldn’t suit.

In the interim, Drew wrote to her twice. Once to send her the latest volume of Cobbett’sParliamentary History, which had only just been published. And once to lend her an extremely rare edition of Francis Bacon’sNew Atlantis in the original Latin, which Drew termed merely a loan, since she didn’t like receiving expensive gifts from him.

Roslyn couldn’t help but smile at his gibe, and repaired immediately to the library to immerse herself in studying the precious little tome.

She was foolishly glad to see Drew when Monday came—and gladder still when she settled in his coach across from him, that her abigail, Nan, was there to help her observe the proprieties. Nan was the lady’s maid Marcus had hired to care for the Loring sisters’ new wardrobes and help them dress and arrange their hair. Although a bit young, she came from London and was well versed in her duties as chaperone.

In Nan’s presence, Drew kept up an easy but impersonal conversation with Roslyn. He spoke less as the morning wore on, though, and as they neared his estate, Roslyn was puzzled to note his near silence. She would have asked him about it, but with Nan listening, she had no opportunity.

The only time Drew spoke was when the carriage slowed to pass through an elaborate stone gate.

“My ancestral home,” he said tersely, staring out the window.

The park was immense, Roslyn realized after they had negotiated a winding wooded drive for more than ten minutes. And then she forgot about Drew’s silence when Arden Castle came into view.

The magnificent structure of golden stone sat gleaming on a hill in the distance. Built only two centuries before, it was nothing like a medieval castle, but rather a formal palace fit for royalty—clearly a residence belonging to the extremely wealthy aristocracy.

Roslyn saw Nan’s eyes widen in awe at the sight, and knew her own expression showed a similar admiration.

A half dozen liveried grooms and footmen rushed to meet their arrival and quickly assumed control of their horses, luggage, and servants. Drew led Roslyn up the sweeping stone steps to the enormous entry-way, where they were greeted by a stately butler, then through the majestic house to what he said was the “small” drawing room.

The interior decor was even more splendid than what she’d expected upon seeing the exterior. Every chamber she passed was lavish with brocade and gilt furnishings, gold and crystal chandeliers, and countless paintings, tapestries, and sculptures.

The richness of it all was rather intimidating, Roslyn decided even before she entered a grandiose room occupied by a tall, regal, silver-haired woman.

The duchess rose slowly, her demeanor just as imperious as Roslyn had been warned, and just as daunting. Her pale gray eyes were glacial, and so was the one word she uttered in acknowledgment of her son’s arrival: “Arden.”

“Mother,” Drew responded with equal terseness. His tone was surprisingly bland yet held no warmth, either. The strain between them was palpable, Roslyn realized as he offered his parent a stiff bow and then made the introductions.

Gracefully, but quite deliberately, the duchess raised her lorgnette to one cold gray eye to examine Roslyn.

“Good day, Miss Loring,” the noblewoman remarked superciliously. “I understand that you have ensnared my son.”

Roslyn couldn’t help her amusement at that particular choice of words, but she was careful to keep both her expression and her tone neutral when she replied. “I hardly think ensnare is the proper word, your grace.”

“Then what would you call it?”

Doubting she would ever win the duchess’s approval, even if she prostrated herself at the disdainful noblewoman’s feet, Roslyn smiled coquettishly up at Drew. “I would call it an unexpectedly mutual attraction, your grace.”

When he smiled lazily back at her, the duchess immediately stiffened. “You can hardly expect me to welcome your betrothal, Miss Loring, when you had such infamous parents. Your entire family has been under a cloud of scandal for years.”