The Making of a Gentleman (11 page)

She swallowed the venom on the tip of her tongue. “How kind of you, but I think it better we spoke here.”

He grinned. “I’m sure you do. And how rude of me.” He gestured to the woman beside him. Now that she was closer, Felicity could see the woman wore not only rouge but lip and eye paint. She had a black dot stuck on one cheek. Felicity was more certain than ever the woman was a prostitute.

“This is Celeste,” Charles said. “Celeste, this is my fiancée, Felicity Bennett.”

Celeste waggled her brows. “Fiancée? Well, well, well…”

Felicity felt heat rush to her face. Not only had she been introduced to a prostitute—her fiancé’s prostitute—but she had the additional embarrassment of being introduced as Charles’s betrothed. Felicity tried to ignore the curious stares of passersby and hoped the conveyances in the street were numerous enough to hide her activities from the dowager, should she return before this odious business were concluded.

Charles’s catlike grin widened. “Fortunate for you that you found me today. I was thinking it had been too long since we’d spoken.”

“I have hardly had time to settle in.”

“And yet the time grows short. Perhaps I should charge you interest on that twenty-five pounds. That might make you work a little harder at acquiring it.”

She clenched her jaw, holding back the words she wanted to say. “I assure you that I am working quite hard. Furthermore, I intend to ask for an advance on my salary.”

He nodded. “That’s the first intelligent thing I’ve heard you say. When will you have it?”

She looked away, accidentally meeting the gaze of Charles’s companion. The woman sneered at her.

Felicity wished she could wipe the grin off the woman’s face. She murmured, “I haven’t asked yet…”

“Well!” Charles threw his hands up. “You’re wasting my time.”

“What does it matter when I give you the money? Why not tear up the agreement now? As soon as I have the funds—”

“Tear up the agreement?” He gave her a look of mock surprise. “What would your poor father, who is surely looking down on us even now, think? He begged me to marry you, to protect you, to—”

“Stop!” she hissed, her stomach roiling at the way he derided her father. “You took advantage of an old, sick man.”

“He knew what he was doing.”

“Oh, yes, you kept your true nature hidden from us all, didn’t you? Lying about joining a regiment and fighting for your country, when all along you were in London, gambling and drinking and…”

He glanced at his companion. “Whoring?”

Felicity pressed her lips together, and the woman, Celeste, cackled.

“I’m afraid I won’t make you much of a husband, Felicity, but in my defense, I have given you a way out.”

“You’re a scoundrel!”

He smiled. “Quite.” He reached into his pocket. “Here is my card.” He handed her a small white card with an address on it she did not recognize. “Send for me when you have some blunt. I’d like a partial payment soon. Very soon. Now, I think I see one of your Valères across the way. You had better go.” He waggled his fingers at her.

She turned to look, terrified the dowager would be there, and when she turned back, he and the woman were gone.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Julien said later that day as he handed his greatcoat and hat to the butler. “I just walked in the door, and you start in on marriage?”

Armand ignored his brother’s foul mood. “What is this marriage? I want it explained.”

His brother gave a half laugh. “Don’t we all? Look, Armand, it’s late, and I’m hungry. I’ve been wanting you to speak for months, but if this is your chosen topic of conversation, then we can talk about this tomorrow.”

But Armand wanted Miss Bennett now, and there was no telling how long this marriage thing would take. He was not willing to put the discussion off another day. So instead of retreating to his room, he followed his brother up the winding marble stairs. As Julien walked, he conducted a brisk business with the servants—where was his wife, what progress had been made on the nursery, had the watchmen arrived for the night yet, he wanted food and drink brought to his room immediately…

He opened the door to his chambers, and all but Armand scattered. Julien strode inside, and Armand followed, receiving a curious look from Julien’s valet before he spoke. “Monsieur le Duc, you have ruined this cravat!
Mon Dieu!
Why do I put up with this?”

“Because I pay you well,” Julien growled, surrendering to the valet’s quick fingers. The valet tugged his tailcoat off, and Julien scowled. “Where
is
my wife?”

“Wife,” Armand said, and Julien spun around then sighed. “That is what I want to discuss. My wife.”

“Bloody hell, Armand. Do we really have to do this right now?”

Armand crossed his arms and waited.

“Fine,” Julien brushed his valet aside. “Leave us, Luc. You can see to these clothes later.”

“Of course, Monsieur le Duc. But do not throw them on the floor. Remove them carefully—”

“Thank you, Luc,” Julien said, ushering the valet out the door. As soon as he was gone, Julien dropped his necktie on the floor and his tailcoat with it. “You want a wife?” Julien said, crossing to a table with a crystal decanter on it. “A valet is a lot less trouble.” He poured a glass for himself and then another for Armand. “But not as much fun. I assume you are thinking of the fun part.”

“I want to know about this marriage. What is it?”

Julien handed him the glass of amber liquid then slumped into a chair and eyed Armand warily. “Damned strange to be having a conversation like this with you,” he said, sipping his drink. “For months you say nothing, now we’re talking as if…” He gestured with a hand, seeming unable to find the words he wanted. Armand was glad it was not only he who struggled. Julien took another sip. “Why this sudden interest in marriage? Does Miss Bennett have anything to do with it?”

“Miss Bennett. How do I marry her?”

Julien sighed heavily. “That’s what I thought. Did she give you this idea? No”—he held up a hand—“I can see where it came from. Not only your voice has awoken, I suppose.”

“I don’t understand.”

“But I do.” Julien leaned back in the chair. “Let me see if I have this about right. You like Miss Bennett.”

Armand frowned.

“What I mean is you think she’s attractive, pretty.”

“I like her mouth and her eyes,” Armand said. Finally it seemed his brother was beginning to understand. “And her hair. And”—what was the word he had learned today—“her hips. They are soft and round. And I like…” He put his hand to his chest and gestured. “I do not know the name for these.”

Julien ran a hand through his hair. “I get the general idea. You like her, and perhaps you kissed her?”

“Yes.”

“What did she say about that?”

“She confuses me. She seems to like it, and yet she tells me to stop. I can’t recall all of her words.”

“Let me guess. She said you couldn’t kiss her because you’re not married.”

“Yes. I would like to kiss her and touch her and—”

“Are you going to drink that brandy?” Julien interrupted. “If not, I could use another glass.”

Armand looked down at the untouched liquid in his hand then gave it to Julien. He had never liked the taste of the amber drink anyway.

“Listen, Armand. I understand exactly what you want from Miss Bennett. I probably understand better what you want from her than you do. But she’s right. You can’t do the things you are thinking of without being married.”

“It’s against The Rules.”

He nodded, drank. “Right. You have to follow the rules.”

The Rules again. Armand wondered if he would ever understand all of them. Had he ever known them? Some did seem familiar. This marriage one did not, but it seemed simple enough. If he wanted to kiss Miss Bennett, if he wanted to see what lay under her dress, touch those parts of her, he would have to marry her.

“How do I marry her?” he asked.

“How did I know that was coming?” His brother groaned. “It’s not that simple, Armand.”

Now Armand groaned and clenched his fist at his side. It sometimes seemed his brother and mother made these Rules more complicated than they needed to be. It aggravated him, made him want to retreat back into his shell, and stay there. But that would not help him with Miss Bennett. He flexed his fingers and eyed one of Julien’s walls.

Julien rose. “Don’t do it. Sarah will have my head if you punch a hole in here.”

Armand glared at him, and Julien held up a hand.

“I know it’s frustrating, but think of it like this. What if we didn’t have these rules?” He stood in front of Armand, looked him in the eye. “What if any man who wanted could kiss a woman and touch her? Then what would happen to Miss Bennett?”

Armand had not considered this. He had not considered that other men might want to touch Miss Bennett. But it made sense. Julien was the only man allowed to touch Sarah. No one had needed to tell him that. It was clear in Julien’s every action.

“There’s more.”

Armand gritted his teeth again.

“If you… touch Miss Bennett the way you are thinking. If you—hell, we’ll have to go into this more later—then she might become with child. Like Sarah.”

Armand thought of Sarah’s growing belly. He had forgotten that part about marriage.

“So there’s more to marriage than just the fun part. There could be children, and that’s why marriage isn’t something to take lightly. If you were to marry Miss Bennett—or another woman—she becomes your responsibility. You have to take care of her, not just for a night or a week, but forever. And you have to take care of all the children. There could be many, and you would be responsible for all of them.”

Armand nodded. He was beginning to understand why marriage was so complicated. He allowed his hand to unclench, but he did not feel any less irritated. “I still want her,” he finally said.

Julien laughed. “Of course you do, but it’s not that simple. Do you know if she wants you?”

Armand raised both eyebrows. “I had not thought of that.”

Julien swallowed the last of his brandy. “You can’t just throw her over your shoulder and haul her off to church. She has to agree, as well. And there are other considerations.”

Armand narrowed his eyes. “Other considerations? What does this mean?”

“It means you’re not some peddler off the street. You are Armand Harcourt, the comte de Valère, son of the duc de Valère. You can’t just marry anyone you please. There are rules about that, as well.”

“Explain.”

“It’s too much to explain tonight, Armand, but suffice it to say that Miss Bennett is not of your station. She’s pretty, she’s talented, but she is not a peer. Who was her father? Not a duke, I can promise you that.”

“So that is why you married Sarah?”

The look that crossed Julien’s face was almost unreadable. “No,” he finally said. “It’s true that her family was nobility, but I didn’t know that when I married her. So you’re right. Rules can be broken. But let me suggest this to you, Armand.”

Armand nodded, still trying to piece together his brother’s last comments. Perhaps he should pay more attention to Miss Bennett’s lessons. He did not understand words like
nobility
.

“Before you decide you’re going to marry Miss Bennett and have no other, why don’t you at least see what the other choices are?”

Armand shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Why don’t you look around and see if there are any other ladies you might prefer more than Miss Bennett.”

Armand could not imagine there was another woman he would want more than Miss Bennett. He had, on occasion, met other women, and they had stared at him as though he were a monster. Miss Bennett had never looked at him that way, not even when he knew he had done something that should have frightened her.

“Where are these women?”

Now Julien smiled. “All over London, Brother. And you don’t know how happy ma mère and Sarah would be to take you out and show you all of them. Are you up for that?”

Armand frowned.

“What I mean is, do you want to try it?”

“Will Miss Bennett be there?”

“No. She’ll stay here.” Julien clapped a hand on Armand’s shoulder, and Armand gritted his teeth. “But I’ll have Sarah accept one or two invitations. Simple things that don’t have too many rules. No balls. We’ll see how it goes.”

“Very well.”

“Good.” His brother smiled, but before he could clap him on the shoulder again, Armand caught his arm and held it.

“But I’m going to marry Miss Bennett.”

***

Felicity knew she should not be in the garden at this time of night. She was inviting trouble in the form of the comte de Valère. But, of course, that was precisely the reason she had chosen to come outside this late. She pretended, even to herself, she needed fresh air after a long afternoon of shopping, but now that she was alone amongst the flowers and bushes, she could be honest, couldn’t she?

She
wanted
trouble in the form of the comte de Valère. She couldn’t stop thinking about his caresses, his kisses… what might have happened if she had not stopped him this afternoon. And she was upset about her meeting with Charles. He was growing impatient, and she feared he would do something drastic if she did not give him money soon. At times she wondered if he really cared about the money or if he just enjoyed having power over her. Perhaps he wanted her to fail so he could humiliate her.

She was not going to allow that to happen. She had made steady progress with the comte. Now might be a good time to ask the duc and duchesse for an advance on her salary. The duc was often in his library at night. She would seek him out there.

She turned and made her way inside. The town house was quiet now and dim. It seemed almost everyone had retired early that evening. She had not seen the comte since the end of their lesson this afternoon. But she doubted the duc was abed, and so she did not hesitate to make her way directly to his library. The door was half-open, and she had her hand on the handle before she heard the voices.

“He specifically said the word
marriage
?” a woman’s voice asked.

“Yes, but only because he’s been made to understand marriage is the only way he can bed a woman. Don’t look so shocked. He’s a man with a man’s needs, even if they’ve been dormant up to this point.” That was a man’s voice, and the unmistakable voice of the duc. He must be speaking with his wife. And, judging from what Felicity had heard so far, the comte had taken her advice and gone to speak with his brother about the prospect of marrying her.

She blew out a breath and shook her head. She didn’t know if she should be flattered or frustrated.

The duchesse’s voice rose again, and Felicity made to move away from the door. She was no eavesdropper and could see now was not the time to discuss an advance, but the duchesse’s words stopped her. “She wouldn’t be a bad choice for him. She has an easy temperament, and they do seem to get on well.”

The duc made a harrumphing sound. “But who is she? She has no title, no place in Society. Not to mention, she’s penniless. I don’t want Armand used for his money.”

There was a long silence, during which Felicity battled the urge to storm into the library and defend herself. How dare he assume she would use his brother that way! Is that the kind of person he thought she was? Was that how all aristocrats saw their “lessers”—as fortune-hunting schemers?

“If you recall, you did not know I had a title or a place in Society when we married, and that did not stop you.”

“Clearly, I was swept off my feet.”

“Armand is swept off of his feet, as well. That’s been apparent since the first day Miss Bennett entered this house.”

There was another long pause, and Felicity assumed it stemmed from the duc’s inability to think of an argument against the duchesse’s logic. After all, it was the comte, not she, who had made the first advance.

The duc’s voice was low when he next spoke. “And how do we know whether Armand is truly swept off his feet or whether this is just his reaction to a pretty girl. He hasn’t been around very many women.”

“We have had dinner parties and other events where he has participated.”

“Not like he participates now. We can’t be certain he even noticed the women at those evenings.”

“Well, he’s noticed Miss Bennett, and so all the rest are really inconsequential, don’t you think?”

Felicity nodded. Yes, she was beginning to like this duchesse a great deal. And she had stood and listened far too long. She would leave the duchesse to plead her case.

Not that she wanted her case pled. Did anyone ever think to ask if she wanted to marry the comte? Perhaps she would never marry. After being duped by Charles, she was not even certain she could trust another man.

Except that the comte was guileless, incapable of deceit…

“No, I don’t think it renders the other ladies inconsequential at all,” the duc answered.

Felicity stopped midstride. What? How could the man disregard the comte’s reaction to her?

“At least we can’t make that decision as of yet. It bears further testing.”

“Testing? Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean,
chérie
—don’t get your back up like that.” There was a moment of silence and Felicity tried not to imagine what was occurring during that long moment. When the duc spoke again, his voice was soft and milder. “I mean, that we should take Armand out in Society, introduce him to women, see if any others spark his interest. I want to be sure there’s something special about this Miss Bennett before we seriously entertain ideas of his marrying her.”