The Trouble With Virtue: A Comfortable Wife\A Lady by Day (36 page)

But Pauline had to be cured. The alternative was unacceptable.

Josephine imagined herself explaining to Charlotte that she’d failed at finding a match for Pauline, or that Pauline fancied herself in love with Sir Noah Rutledge and refused all others. There would be no cries of outrage, no accusations. Only those little, fretful gears turning behind Charlotte’s soft, brown eyes as she contemplated the worst.

Pauline wrung her hands. “The only reason I draw is to do something with all these imaginations in my head. Auntie Josephine—” Pauline scooted to the edge of her seat “—I was thinking, since you are acquainted with Katherine Kinloch, perhaps...perhaps you could write to her and ask if I might have a place aboard her ship. Lady India Sinclair is there,” she rushed on, “so there must be
something
acceptable in it.”

“There isn’t.” Good God. Pauline had thought of the one thing that was actually
worse
than a fancy for Sir Noah. “Your mother would break down in a nervous condition if she knew you were even thinking of it.”

“I know.” Pauline sighed and sat back, clearly not surprised by Josephine’s reaction. “Mother wants me to marry a quiet, dutiful man who will provide me a home and children and— I know I
should
want that. I
should.
But I don’t think I could stand it. I want to marry someone like Sir Noah. He is
so
handsome. So exciting. Sometimes when I close my eyes I can practically see him aboard his ship, sailing amid the Greek isles with billowing sails above and pots from ancient shipwrecks beckoning from the clear water below.”

Josephine could see it, too, and her heart ached.

“Life aboard a ship can be very confining,” Josephine pointed out.

“Oh, but only think of the liberating waves and the porpoises and the endless sights to be seen!”

“And the worms in the flour and the water gone stale in the kegs.”

“I wouldn’t care about any of that.” Pauline dropped her gaze to her lap and picked at a fingernail.

Josephine remembered how, when her family had returned from Gibraltar, the social Season had met her like a full-frontal assault of worries and musts and don’ts. Compared to Ahmet, all the men seemed feminine and pasty and boring. They’d buzzed around her like flies, and she’d hated all of them, cried tears at night that she could not have married Ahmet and spent her life at sea.

“I’m dreaming in the clouds anyhow, aren’t I?” Pauline said. “Sir Noah—” For a moment she almost looked in pain. “He could have any woman he wanted. And I’m not stupid, Auntie Josephine. I’m hardly pretty enough to attract his attention.”

“You’re beautiful enough to attract any man’s attention, Pauline.”

“Do you really think so?”

“You mustn’t doubt it for a minute. Only see how much you’ve drawn Mr. Crumley’s interest. He is a very handsome young man, and very desirable.”

Pauline looked at her as if she’d grown horns. “Mr.
Crumley
has never been on a ship, not even once in his entire life.”

Josephine might have laughed, but Pauline’s measure of a man was too alarming. “There are many other redeeming qualities to be found in a man,” she said reasonably.

And yet it was so easy to be fooled, as she’d been that day at the assembly where she’d first seen Matthew. For the first time since leaving Gibraltar, something had stirred inside her—something very small, very tentative. There’d been something a little wild about him. He had a quick, dashing smile like Ahmet. He hadn’t changed the subject when she’d spoken of Gibraltar. He’d
wanted
to hear about it—or so he’d said. He’d encouraged her to talk about her dreams, her secret desires.

She’d found out too late that he’d only been trying to seduce her, that he was clever enough to know the easiest way was to feign solidarity with her deepest longings.

Their secret tryst had quickly been exposed. Angry words and then money had been exchanged. There was the cold stripping away of her fantasy that she’d found a man in England who understood her. Grief that she’d given him what she’d given Ahmet and it was too late to take it back. And then the horrible, lonely months after the wedding but before Matthew’s father had died and he’d inherited the Mareck title.

“The important thing is to find a
good
man,” she said now, squeezing Pauline’s hand. “One who will care for you the way he ought to.”

Pauline’s gaze slid to her lap. “Auntie Josephine...I know I was being fanciful about Katherine Kinloch’s ship. But you are well acquainted with Sir Noah because of Mr. Woodbridge, and I truly was wondering... Do you think you could arrange for us to be...thrown together?”

“Oh, Pauline...” What could she possibly say to that? “Your mother would never approve Sir Noah.”

“She would if you approved.”

“Not even then.” Because Charlotte had not forgotten that tragic misjudgment of years ago that had nearly cost them both their reputations. If Father hadn’t been a friend of the elder Lord Mareck, things would have turned out very differently. Even now, if not for Josephine’s status in society, Charlotte never would have entrusted the girls into Josephine’s care in the first place. “And I don’t think Sir Noah is looking for a wife,” she added. “I daresay he is quite happy with his carefree life.”

“But nobody is truly immune to cupid’s arrow, are they?”

Heaven help her, Josephine hoped so—for her own sake. “You mustn’t be carried away by romantic notions. Being struck by cupid’s arrow doesn’t always lead to marriage. Sometimes it leads to—”

“Ruination. Yes, I know. But Sir Noah is much too honorable to even think about ruining anyone. I know he is.”

Josephine held her breath. Surely Pauline could see that Sir Noah was more than twice her age. Surely she could sense his potent virility, could feel a small frisson of fear that it might come unleashed, and that she would be ill-equipped to contend with it if it did.

“And as for Mother, Sir Noah is a knight, which makes him a good deal more impressive than Lettie’s Captain Ryson, and he is wealthy. Neither Mother nor Father could possibly object.”

“They could object to your living aboard a ship in the Mediterranean.” She didn’t dare mention Sir Noah’s villa. Good God.

“If we married, certainly he would buy a proper house.” Pauline blushed and looked at her lap, as if only realizing how forward she sounded.

“Pauline,” Josephine said softly, “has Sir Noah given you any indication of his interest?”

“No. Except that he is very kind when he visits here.”

“You wouldn’t expect him to be rude when he visits, would you?”

“No.” The disappointment in Pauline’s voice made Josephine feel very cruel. But then Pauline looked up. “Aunt Josephine,” she said with complete gravity, “what can I do to make Sir Noah notice me?”

CHAPTER NINE

T
HE
SHIPYARD
MAY
not have been as private as Mays Abbey, but it could present as many opportunities, and Noah fully intended to take advantage of them. He contemplated his strategy now, standing in front of the windows in Lady Mareck’s drawing room waiting for her to be ready for their planned outing, staring absently at the street below.

Letting his imagination wander up Lady Mareck’s undoubtedly creamy thighs, to a passage that would lead to pure satisfaction.

It was a channel he fully intended to navigate. He would slice through her deceptively calm waters, skillfully use her strong currents to his advantage. And when her tempest came up, he would ride it out until the last ripple died, and he would glory in his triumph.

Like a notoriously treacherous sea, it was the challenge of her that kept him so enthralled. Once conquered, she would lose her mystery. He hoped.

And the sooner the better.

There was no real need for her to accompany him to the shipyard today. He could go alone, speak to the manager, tour the yard. He still hadn’t had a look at those papers, but he could address that situation later. It would be the intelligent course of action. The wise thing to do. The safe thing.

But he was in no mood for anything safe, wise or intelligent. He wanted Lady Mareck lying prone on the desk in Elias’s upstairs office with her skirts pushed past her hips and her legs spread wide, begging him to—

“Sir Noah?”

He spun abruptly from the window. “Miss Eckert.” He offered her a hasty bow, careful to keep his hands clasped in front of him to hide his embarrassment, which—thank God—instantly began to subside.

“How do you do, Sir Noah?” Miss Pauline Eckert came into the room clutching a small frame.

“Very well. Thank you.” Thank God, she couldn’t read his mind. Could she? No. Of course not.

She was small, delicate, childlike, with Lady Mareck’s auburn hair but none of the cool detachment that cloaked Lady Mareck’s expression. He felt like a lecherous old goat.

“I have something for you,” she said in a small voice. “Forgive me if I’m being too forward—” she came toward him now “—but I thought... Well, I thought you might like it, is all.” Dark eyes and lashes swept downward, and a blush pinkened her cheeks as she held out the frame, and a hole opened up in Noah’s gut.

Surely the girl didn’t— No, surely not.
Definitely
not.

Good God, he was in rare form this morning. Sir Noah Rutledge, catch of the Season? Fantasy of London’s young maidens?
Very
definitely not.

“I’m honored, Miss Eckert,” he said, seeing now that he held one of her drawings. Inside the frame, an exquisitely detailed pirate ship battled gale forces alongside what could only be an island in the West Indies. Palm trees leaned furiously in the wind, waves crashed over the side of the ship, and the Jolly Roger was on the verge of being torn from its mast. “What an uncommon talent you have for capturing the whims of the sea. This is excellently done. Masterful, in fact.”

She beamed at him. “Do you really think so?”

“I already count it among my most prized possessions. I’ve a place in my great-cabin that will be perfectly suited for it.” He bowed and kissed her hand. “Thank you, Miss Eckert. You do me too much honor.”

She blushed again. “Aunt Josephine says you and she are to visit Mr. Woodbridge’s shipyard today.”

“Yes.” He forced himself not to think of desks. Or hips. Or legs.

“How fascinating it must be. I should dearly love to see it.”

He laughed. “You won’t find any pirate ships there, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t suppose one can know for certain what the future holds, can one?”

“Good God. No, I suppose not.” For a girl so small, so prone to avoiding looking one directly in the eye, she had a rather bloodthirsty outlook. “But one can hope for the best.”

“Hope for the best about what?” queried Lady Mareck’s voice from the doorway. “Pauline,
there
you are.”

Faced with Lady Mareck, hoping for the best took on an entirely new meaning. His mind leaped ahead, rehearsing the seduction that would finally break her control. She was perfectly put together now: the elegant drapery of a finely tailored gown, the artful upsweep of carefully coiffed hair. Passive lips. Pale, porcelain skin.

He wanted that skin flushed with desire. Those lips dewy and swollen from his kiss. That hair tumbling down. He wanted—

“Sir Noah was waiting by himself, Aunt Josephine. I thought I would keep him company.”

Noah inhaled silently. Deeply.

“Your lovely niece has just honored me with the most amazing present,” he said. “It’s got me wanting to batten down the hatches and ready the cannons all at once.” He bowed to Pauline. “Thank you, Miss Eckert.”

“One of your drawings? How thoughtful of you, Pauline. But you’d best come now—you’re needed upstairs. Lettie is asking for you.” Lady Mareck held out her hand, beckoning Pauline, and Noah imagined taking that hand himself and leading Lady Mareck upstairs to her bedchamber, where he would make short work of that gown.

“We were just speaking of the shipyard, Aunt Josephine.”

If he took over Elias’s shipyard instead of rebuilding the one in Turkey, there would be no need for the mystery of Lady Mareck to end so quickly. If he played his cards right, he could become her lover and then—

Bloody hell.

“I was telling Sir Noah how very much I would like to see the shipyard,” Miss Eckert was saying. “Perhaps—perhaps I could accompany you.”

Had he really just contemplated
staying
in
London?
He needed to stop fantasizing about Lady Mareck’s thighs and put some distance between them. Immediately. Flirtation and fantasy was one thing. The future was entirely another.

“Oh, Pauline, I don’t think—”

“An excellent idea,” Noah said abruptly. “I should very much enjoy the opportunity to show Miss Eckert the shipyard.”

They both looked at him.

“Lettie isn’t feeling well this morning,” Lady Mareck said evenly. “Perhaps it would be best for Pauline to stay and keep her company.”

“Lettie always sleeps when she’s feeling poorly,” Pauline was quick to respond. “She won’t want me disturbing her.”

“Then it’s settled,” Noah said, and offered Pauline his arm. “Shall we?”

* * *

F
ROM
THE
SAFETY
of a Vauxhall dinner box, Josephine tried to pretend she wasn’t watching Sir Noah as she contemplated what to do about the day’s disaster at the shipyard.

“Confess,” Honoria said, leaning close and not the least bit fooled. “You find him attractive.”

Josephine watched him through the crowd as he stood laughing with a group of men. He was quicker to smile than most, had a more infectious laugh. His teeth shone brilliant white. Mesmerizing lines cut deep around his mouth. As she watched, he slapped both hands together—the back of one inside the palm of the other—emphasizing a point that was impossible to hear from this distance.

“Pauline has a tendresse for him,” she told Honoria.

“
Pauline.
La, Josephine, that won’t do. It won’t do at all. Are you absolutely certain?”

“Positively.”

“What a terribly awkward position that puts you in.”

“It isn’t an
awkward
position. It’s an unfortunate one.”

“Well, yes, that, too.”

“Because he isn’t an appropriate match for her,” Josephine said.

“No, I daresay not. Not for her.”

“She will end up with her heart broken when she learns that he doesn’t share her inclinations.” Which would come as an even more painful blow after today’s outing to the shipyard, where Sir Noah had regaled her the entire time with talk of his sailing adventures and colorful Mediterranean port cities and the countless antiquities to be seen.

And all the while, every time his gaze collided with Josephine’s, she’d felt a small explosion of desire deep in her belly, and she’d been grateful—
grateful—
that Pauline was with them.

She was the most irresponsible aunt in all of England.

“You must tell her in no uncertain terms that Sir Noah is not for her,” Honoria said.

“I’ve tried that.”

“Then you have no choice but to tell her that you have feelings for him yourself. Better for her to hear it from you now than to find out some other way after her own feelings have deepened.”

“I’m not going to tell her I have feelings for Sir Noah when I don’t.”

“Nonsense. But you may tell yourself whatever you like, of course. Only, think of this... What is she going to do when she discovers that Sir Noah’s interest lies with you?”

At that moment Pauline hurried into the dinner box, glancing over her shoulder. “Auntie Josephine, Mr. Crumley is suggesting a walk.
Please
say I can’t go.”

“Mr. Thomas Crumley?” Honoria asked Pauline, though she knew precisely who they were talking about.

“Yes—oh, here he comes. Auntie Josephine,
please.
”

“Why, Mr. Crumley is the son of a dear friend,” Honoria declared. “A lovely young man—and handsome, too. Why would you not wish to walk with him?”

Pauline looked utterly dismayed.

“The young man is smitten with you, Pauline,” Honoria said. “At least do him the kindness of a short turn about the gardens.”

“But, Aunt Josephine, look.
Sir Noah
is coming this way.”

And so he was, heading directly for them with a small group of people. They converged on the dinner box at the exact same time as Mr. Crumley. There was a moment of chaos as a trio of women began talking to Honoria and a pair of men stood talking on the threshold and Pauline’s window of opportunity to decry Mr. Crumley slammed shut. Mr. Crumley led her unhappily away just as Sir Noah slid into the chair next to Josephine.

“Enjoying the evening?” he asked, leaning closer than she might have preferred.

“Very much,” she told him, even as butterflies in her stomach went all aflutter. “I always enjoy nights in the gardens.”

“Mmm.” If it were possible, he leaned even closer. “It’s come to my attention that there is a rumor afoot,” he said. “And since you are so well acquainted with London society, perhaps you might help me figure out how to set it right.”

She felt his nearness as though he had taken her in his arms. “Sir Noah, London is flooded with rumors. You must simply learn to ignore them. London requires a very thick skin.”

“Mmm.” His eyes roamed over her face. Flicked to her breasts. “I daresay this one has to do with skin, in a matter of speaking. And in a rather delicate way.”

“Do tell.”

He lowered his voice, leaned close to her ear. “It concerns a vital part of my anatomy.”

His breath against her ear sent a shock of sensation shooting down the side of her neck. Honoria’s group of ladies erupted into laughter, and the two men at the entrance seemed oblivious to everything but their own discussion.

“Sir Noah,” Josephine said, “if everyone listened to other people’s opinions of their intelligence, nobody would ever emerge from their apartments. People are forever calling others hare-brained, mutton-headed, feather-brained... You must simply learn to ignore it.”

His lips curved.

She shivered.

“While I confess my brain is indeed a vital part of my anatomy,” he allowed, “these rumors concern what might be deemed an equally...
serviceable
organ.” He glanced around. Lowered his voice even further. “Forgive me if I shock you, but it’s being said I’ve been castrated.”

“Shocking indeed.”

“I thought perhaps if I prove to you that I am intact, your reputation being what it is, you could assist me by actively countering the rumor. I feel certain you would be believed.”

“I rather think you’d have a more immediate result by exposing yourself publicly, would you not?”

He laughed out loud, even as one of the men called to him. “No doubt it would.” And then, murmuring in her ear as he got up, “But somehow, my dear Joseph, I feel a need to demonstrate myself to you personally. Perhaps you will indulge me one day soon.”