Lessons From a Scarlet Lady (37 page)

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Authors: Emma Wildes

Tags: #Romance

BOOK: Lessons From a Scarlet Lady
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His jaw set like a marble statue’s.
“I very much want to talk to you,” she added, the excuse feeble even to her own ears.
“So much you may have damaged your reputation beyond repair?” he asked in an acidic tone. He shook his head and turned away, for a moment staring at nothing but the side of the carriage. “This,” he said with measured emphasis, “is a disaster.”
She was very much afraid he might be right, but she straightened her spine. “All I knew was that it was a party to which my parents had no intention of going. I thought I might get a chance to at least speak with you if I managed to sneak in. I really had no idea—”
“Where do they think you are?” He cut her off with borderline discourtesy. Rebecca was beginning to get a true sense of what her reckless idea might have just cost her and she felt a little faint.
“I pretended I was going with Arabella and her husband to another event.”
“In other words, you tricked your parents.”
Well, she had, though at the time, she’d excused it more as a necessary falsehood. She nodded.
He said a word she’d never heard before under his breath, but not quietly enough she didn’t wonder what it meant, though this didn’t seem like the time to ask.
“I don’t think anyone saw me slip away and flag down the hack,” she defended herself. “Arabella knows, of course, but no one else.”
He transferred his gaze back to her face. “What if someone
did
see you?”
She really couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
“They will blame me.” He ran his hand down his face. “Your parents will blame
me
. And God knows the world will believe them.”
“How was I supposed to know it was a . . . a . . .” She couldn’t think of a proper word to describe the party she’d almost attended.
Robert slouched a little lower in his seat and his smile was an ironic twist of his lips. “A depraved, self-indulgent male gathering? My dear, did you not wonder why you and your parents were not invited? You all are on the list of every fashionable hostess in London. Besides, when a reprobate like Gerald Houseman throws a party, it is just an excuse for men to get together and behave far less politely than we usually do when there are ladies in attendance.”
“Is that why you were there?” she asked. “So you could behave impolitely?”
“I think that was the original idea.” He paused, then added curtly, “But as you saw, I was leaving.”
“Why is that?” she asked softly.
His hand tightened convulsively where it rested on his knee. “I found I wasn’t in the mood, after all.”
“Damien said you’ve been spending a great deal of time at home.”
“Is there something amiss with that? Contrary to the popular opinion I spend every night gadding about London, I actually stay home on a regular basis. Anyway, my activities don’t really matter, for I do not have a reputation in peril, but you do. We are going to have to figure out a way to safely and discreetly return you home.”
Considering all the trouble she’d gone to, and the possible disaster looming ahead, she wasn’t willing to let him simply return her without at least saying what she’d risked so much to say. “Since the damage is done and a small difference in time is moot at this point, could you not ask your driver to drive around a bit so we can discuss this?”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “In my experience, too much conversation with a woman is never a good idea. And though I hate to ask, can you define
this
?”
She hesitated, knowing her next words could make all the difference in her future. Rebecca took in a deep breath. “Us.”
Robert muttered that unfamiliar word again, shifting his tall body on the opposite seat. “Rebecca—”
“Can’t we negotiate?”
“Negotiate?” He stared at her and narrowed his eyes. “How so?”
She swallowed down a lump of nervousness and went on with what she hoped was credible calm, though her heart pounded. “Please understand, I am quite the opposite of you.”
For the first time since he’d spied her walking into that foyer, a glimmer of his usual reckless charm surfaced. “Unfortunately, I’ve noticed, Miss Marston.”
Her laugh was a combination of tension and some well-needed relief at his levity. “I mean I understand you have no wish to relinquish your freedom. Fine. As someone who has no freedom to speak of, I believe I can see why you value the commodity. Perhaps we can work things out to our mutual satisfaction. Make a bargain, if you will. All I ask is for you to give me a chance.”
He didn’t move.
Was she really going to do this? To say this outrageous thing based on a book written by a fallen woman? Stake her happiness on the advice of a harlot?
Yes, she was. Because while Damien was doing his best to help her, he would soon leave for Spain, and besides, this was a woman’s problem and it needed a woman’s touch.
Even her own mother had said it.
We know what they want better than they do.
She’d read that wicked book in its entirety, and
enlightened
didn’t even begin to describe the revelation. Oh yes, she’d been quite shocked by the frank descriptions, but also fascinated, and by her reaction, maybe she really
was
just the woman for Robert Northfield.
What she really wanted was to do all of those forbidden things with
him
.
So she went on. Impossibly so. She couldn’t believe it, but she did it.
“Will you marry me?”
His lips parted in undisguised surprise. The stunned expression on his face would have been comical except she was dreadfully nervous and had a feeling this was the most important moment of her life.
“If we are wed,” Rebecca explained, hearing the quaver in her voice, “and I do not satisfy you in every way possible, feel free to live your life as you did before. If you grow restless because I can’t hold you, there will be no objection on my part over your lack of interest.” Rebecca paused and gave him a calculated smile before she added in a hushed tone, “However, in the spirit of being sporting about this whole thing, I must warn you that I have every intention of being all you need.”
 
Robert had the feeling his face reflected his incredulity. Not since he was seventeen had he been so bluntly propositioned. Elise had been twelve years older, an actress, and her intentions strictly lascivious. One sultry summer evening she’d sought him out—after a performance he’d attended with his family, no less—and whispered in his ear just what she wanted to do with him. She adored beautiful young men, she’d explained in her signature husky voice with an unapologetic, overtly sensual smile.
At the time, he was both sexually curious and flattered. Naturally, he managed to find a way to the lady’s lodgings. That first affair had marked the beginning of his notoriety, and he’d been offered sexual favors in many different ways—and from many different women—in the years that had passed.
This was something else completely.
Maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe a very innocent young woman hadn’t just told him in plain terms she wanted to capture his sexual interest and had the confidence somehow—considering her inexperience—she could keep it.
If he married her.
Robert closed his mouth, and fought to find something remotely intelligent to use as a response.
Nothing came to mind.
God help him, he was more intrigued than ever. She probably really didn’t even realize what she promised, but the idea of teaching her was tantalizing in the extreme.
He was fairly sure he couldn’t tear his gaze from her face even on pain of death. Had she really just
proposed
to him?
Her luminous blue-green eyes regarded him from across the small space as they rolled along the street. He’d been so rattled when he saw her walk in the door at the party he hadn’t given his driver any instructions, so her request for more time was already granted, whether she realized it or not. George would wait until told to take them to any certain address. He’d undoubtedly seen the young lady enter the carriage with him.
That was another point. Cloak or no, she still could have been recognized. Robert had told the perfect truth earlier. If word got out she’d been seen at such an event as Houseman’s party, there would be an enormous scandal.
Perhaps he
had
to marry her.
Maybe I wish to marry her.
Did he? As Damien would no doubt point out, Robert wasn’t sure he
didn’t
want to marry her, and he was dead certain he didn’t want her marrying anyone else.
“Your father won’t agree.” The words came out hoarsely.
If I don’t satisfy you in every way possible . . .
“He just might. My mother likes you. She isn’t precisely in favor of a match between us, but she isn’t opposed, either. I think the intrigue of the situation appeals to her.” Rebecca arched a brow. “It was really a stroke of genius to dance with her.”
“I wasn’t trying to be a genius,” he muttered. “I was just . . .”
She waited, looking interested in his response.
He had no idea what he even meant to say. Why
had
he danced with Lady Marston? He finally settled on rasping out, “Rebecca, you needn’t be so selfless. You are beautiful, gifted, an heiress. We both know every eligible man in London is at your feet.”
“Good, then that must include you. My parents are pressuring me to choose a husband soon. I choose you. Can I assume you accept my offer?”
“It is hardly that simple.”
“Tell me why. You
are
eligible, aren’t you?” Her smile was slow and enticing. “Unless there is a secret wife none of us know about.”
Damn her, she knew she was winning. No, worse, she knew she’d
won
.
It was time for him to take charge of the situation again.
At least he had the satisfaction of eliciting a surprised gasp as he suddenly reached across the small distance between them and caught her by the waist, hauling her onto his lap. Robert grazed his mouth against her temple. “Why do you do this to me?”
“I’ve asked that same question about your effect on
me
many times.” Her laugh held a breathless note. “I’m afraid there isn’t an easy explanation.”
His lips traveled across the satin curve of her cheek, much like that first night in the garden. He nibbled at the corner of her mouth in a reenactment of the moment when he held her against the hedge as she dodged Lord Watts. “Fine, I agree to your terms, as long as you agree to mine.”
Her arms slid around his neck. “I doubt I will object to anything you say.”
His smile was deliberately wicked. “If I don’t satisfy you in every way, feel free to seek solace elsewhere, but be warned, I intend to hold your interest.”
She quivered against him.
Then he kissed her. Not with the same restraint as the first time, but a lover’s kiss, hot and hard and long. It was a promise and a silent vow. He ravished, but he also gave back, letting her feel his hunger, but also his restraint.
In fact, when he finally resurfaced and lifted his mouth a fraction, he had no idea where in London the carriage might have taken them, but he did know a wonderful inner peace he hadn’t even suspected could exist after such a monumental decision. Robert murmured against her lips, “We’ll need to marry soon.”
“To save my reputation in case anyone saw me tonight?” Rebecca laughed in a sweet exhale, lush and warm in his arms.
“Because I can’t wait long. Perhaps you can tell.” He shifted so she could feel his erection against the curve of her hip.
“Oh.”
He laughed at the underlying uncertainty in the exclamation, happy to have the upper hand again. “I do have a certain reputation, you know.”
Then she turned the tables. Her hand slipped from his shoulder downward, across his jacket to rest on his upper thigh, and then she touched him. It was through his breeches, but still he sucked in a breath in an audible rasp as she pressed her palm against the length of his hard cock. “Why wait at all?” she said in what could only be described as a sultry whisper. “We’re betrothed and just agreed to an expedient wedding.”
It shocked the hell out of him. The suggestion, but also the boldness of the pressure of her hand. It was a rather adventurous act from an innocent maiden.
“Good God, don’t say that.” Robert shifted, but she leaned into him, so he could feel the luscious pressure of her breasts, and spiking desire shot through him. “Trust me, I don’t need the temptation.”
“Your house is close to here.” Her lush lashes lowered. “Take me there. My parents don’t expect me home for hours.”
Take me. . . .
He shouldn’t. Just a moment before he’d agreed to join the ranks of respectable married men who honored their wives with proper vows. “Rebecca . . . no. I can wait.”

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