A Beginner's Guide to Rakes (18 page)

“Yes, you can.”

“You answer it first, then.”

“Very well.”

Visibly surprised, she shifted to face him again. “Well, this should be enlightening.”

“Just remember that you have to answer the question as well. No matter what I say on the subject.” This would have been an opportune moment for the tea or breakfast to arrive, but the front door remained closed and silent. “When we first met, I thought you were stunning, and so angry at the world that you would grasp at any way to defy it. And I thought you would be a fine addition to my bed.”

“What about the outcome?”

Of course she’d noticed that he hadn’t quite answered the question. “I reckoned I would spend time with you until I became bored or you began to cling, at which time we would part company.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t cling, so you must have become bored.”

“Th—”

“What’s this, then?” she pursued. “If I bored you, why arrange to have me in your bed again?”

“You didn’t bore me.”

“Then why did you leave?”

The front door opened. “In here,” he called, rising and going to intercept the platter of food and the pot of tea entering his apartments. Once the footwomen had set the trays down on the table in between Diane and him, he sent them away in search of his other request. The longer Diane remained in his shirt, the more likely he was to peel her out of it. And while he had no objection to having sex with her again—in fact, he planned to do so—he wanted it to be on his terms rather than because she was purposely tempting him.

She sat forward to pick up a piece of toast and began munching. “Shall I repeat the question?”

“You can if you wish, but this is
my
dance, if you’ll recall. And it’s your turn.”

Rather than answer, she finished her toast, then poured herself a cup of tea and sipped at it. Oliver selected a soft gold-colored peach and bit into it. He might have teased or taunted her into answering, he supposed, but if she wanted a moment to think and decide on her answer, in this instance he was willing to give it to her.

“I was eighteen when I married Frederick,” she finally said, standing to lean against the windowsill. “It was arranged, you know, but I was quite excited to be marrying an earl.”

“Your grandfather was a marquis, was he not?”

“Yes. But the title went to my uncle, which my father never liked. The idea of his daughter being a countess made him quite happy.” She took another sip of her tea. “I won’t say that Frederick was a monster or any such thing, because he wasn’t. He simply wasn’t very … intelligent, or interesting. Of course he thought he was, the same way he thought he knew how to play cards.”

“I think that ailment is common to most men.”

“I did everything I could to keep our bills paid, but he was the master of his house, and he brought it down around both of our ears. And when he died, yes, I was angry. He destroyed everything, and left me to face the consequences. Not to mention the year I was forced to spend in mourning.”

“You never told me this before,” he commented, sitting forward to pour himself some tea.

“You never asked. When you appeared at Lady Darham’s luncheon, I just wanted to forget everything.”

“I’m glad I could oblige, then.”

“Oh, please. Clearly you would have pursued me, regardless of what I might have been thinking.”

“Fair enough.” He gazed at her profile for a moment, but she remained silent. “And a fortnight later?” he finally prompted.

Taking a breath, she faced him once more. “Evidently I hadn’t learned as much about men and their motivations as I’d thought. Honestly, Oliver, I’d never met anyone like you. You fascinated me. For a time I thought perhaps you were meant as compensation—a counterbalance for Frederick and his idiocy. And then you left, and I realized you were merely the final part of my lesson.”

He didn’t like the way she said that. “Which lesson was that?”

“The lesson about the peril of relying on men—on any man—for my security or happiness. I don’t feel inclined to thank you, but I don’t believe I would be here opening The Tantalus Club if I’d never met you.”

She said it smoothly enough, but he knew damned well it wasn’t a compliment. “If you detest me so much, you might have found someone else to fund your venture.”

“Perhaps, but I have the means to compel you to help me. And I like seeing you inconvenienced. And in all honesty, there were pleasant moments in Vienna. I merely need to remember not to take them to heart.” As someone knocked at his door again, she set down her tea. “That will be my clothes, I assume,” she said, and left the room.

Oliver listened for a moment to be certain she wouldn’t attempt an escape after all, but when he heard the door close and her bare feet padding in the direction of his bedchamber he rolled his shoulders. Then he dragged the end table closer and dug into the poached eggs and ham.

She
had
fallen for him in Vienna, however she chose to word it. And damn it all, he’d fallen for her. The only difference was that he hadn’t liked the sensation and he’d done everything possible to expel it—and her—from his thoughts and memory. And he thought he’d managed it—until she’d appeared in London.

And now he’d made it worse. Had he been attempting to purge himself of his desire for her, or had another part of him wanted to remember how much he enjoyed touching her and feeling her skin against his? He liked their verbal fencing matches, even when she drew blood. Her damned rapier was much sharper these days. And evidently he liked being knotted up in her schemes, because Lucifer knew he could have convinced her to hand over that bloody letter if he’d truly wished her to. Doing that, however, would have left her destroyed; he couldn’t imagine she would surrender her advantage willingly.

The question, then, became what to do next. He’d taken more money from men than they could afford to lose. He’d damaged the reputations of women when they’d attempted to make more of a connection with him than he’d wanted. And now this woman who hated him had tangled herself into his life and he’d allowed it. Even encouraged it.

And then there was the way she’d chosen to wear his shirt this morning, the way she’d agreed to his twenty-four-hour meeting. As he considered it, the most likely conclusion was either that she disliked him less than she pretended or that she was attempting to seduce him and then break his heart, as he’d broken hers.

Oliver paused in midbite. The Diane of two years ago hadn’t been nearly as devious, but this one … He gave a slow smile. He couldn’t even remember the last person who’d attempted to stand toe-to-toe with him. And if this was the path she wanted to take and if it meant letting her get closer to him—and him to her—then by God, he would make it a merry chase. He had no idea how it might end, but that thought didn’t trouble him nearly as much as he’d expected.

Hm.
Finishing off his bite, he rose once more and went to the bell pull. He had a few more plans to make this morning.

*   *   *

Diane left the top two buttons at the back of her simple black muslin walking dress open and finished pinning up her hair. Thank goodness Oliver had asked about Vienna. After last night she wanted to make certain he knew that she hadn’t lost all her sensibilities and forgotten what a cad he was. And she wanted to make certain
she
remembered, as well.

Oh, he perturbed her no end. And what the devil was wrong with him, that she could appear wearing nothing but his shirt and he did nothing more than send for breakfast? Last night had given her an epiphany, among other things. The man needed a healthy dose of heartache. And as long as she kept their past firmly in mind, she would be just the one to give it to him.

She stepped into her shoes, then frowned as her left toes poked something stiff. Sitting again, she reached into the shoe and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
If you need assistance,
she read in Jenny’s flowing cursive,
say “marmalade” when you leave the apartment.

They’d used the same strategy before, when she’d first begun meeting with Frederick’s rather angry creditors. Considering that she disliked marmalade, it seemed a safe word to use. Shifting the note to her pocket, she finished donning her shoes and left the room. Oliver still sat in the morning room drinking tea. From the look of the breakfast platter, he’d had a generous meal as well.

“Button me, will you?” she asked, turning her back on him.

A moment later she felt him approach behind her, and then his warm fingers trailed up her shoulder blades. “Do you own anything not in black?”

“Yes.”

“When will you wear it?”

“When I wish to.” She pulled the note from her pocket and held it up as she turned to face him.

Oliver took it from her and opened it. He read it swiftly, then looked up at her. “Your friend is very resourceful.”

Diane grinned. “You have no idea.”

“Why did you show it to me?”

“To prove that I’m honoring our deal. And so you don’t say ‘marmalade’ by accident. She’s likely to shoot you.”

“I try to limit having holes put in me to once a month. Thank you for the warning.” His jaw twitching, he handed the note back. “Who is she?”

Damnation.
She should have known he would be putting all the puzzle pieces together. It was what he did. “She’s an old friend. I told you that.”

“Fine. I can do a bit of digging on my own. It’s rather gratifying to realize how many people owe me favors.”

Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, Diane picked through the remains of the breakfast platter. Being on the defensive wouldn’t get her anywhere. “I presume you have something other than fornication in mind, since you sent for my clothes,” she commented. “Or is it just that you wanted to tear them off me?”

“I have the ability to think of fornication
and
something else, all at the same time,” he returned with a swift, attractive smile. “But you’re correct; we’re going out.”

Considering that she’d thought he would keep her naked in his bedchamber all day, this was supremely unexpected. “Going out where?”

“You’ll see.” He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “I need to dress. I’ll be back in a moment.”

She shook out her fingers as he left the room. If he wished them to be seen together in public, she supposed that would only help the impression that she was both desirable and unavailable. In fact, she couldn’t see how he would benefit at all from taking her about London.

With the grand opening and then the rest of the night spent in Oliver’s bed, she’d barely eaten in hours, and the toasted bread hadn’t done much to curb her appetite. Glancing toward the open door of his bedchamber, she sat in his vacated chair and quickly ate a slice of ham and the remainder of the eggs.

“Do you want more?” he asked, stepping back into the room.

She jumped. “No. Not unless you’ll have us gone until four o’clock in the morning.”

“I imagine we’ll return to my bed before then,” he drawled. “Button me, will you?”

Turning around, she saw that he’d donned a pair of black trousers, a black jacket, and a black waistcoat, which currently hung open over his white shirt and black cravat. “Are you making fun of me?”

“I thought we should match. I can hardly dress more colorfully without looking like a dandy now, can I? Button me.”

“You don’t need my help.”

“Neither did you.”

Diane blew out her breath in feigned annoyance. Or actual annoyance. He drove her so close to madness that she wasn’t certain any longer. How could anyone be so aggravating and so compelling all at the same time? Standing, she stalked up to him and yanked the two sides of his waistcoat forward. It didn’t budge him an inch. Refusing to look up at his face, she swiftly buttoned the half-dozen fastenings running up the black waistcoat and then stepped back again.

“Do you need me to comb your hair? Shave you?”

“No. Do you require a reticule?”

“That depends on whether you intend to abandon me somewhere to make my own way home.”

He narrowed one eye. “I won’t abandon you anywhere.”

Ah, an opening.
“Hm. Well, that will be a nice change.”

Muttering something under his breath that sounded very unflattering, he led the way to his front door. When he pulled it open, Jenny stood just two feet away on the landing, already glaring at him. “Good day,” he said, nodding at her. “I’ll have her back before daybreak.”

“I should hope so,” Genevieve returned stiffly. “Diane, do you wish anything else for breakfast?”

She could escape if she wanted to, she imagined, but if she did so then Oliver would more than likely withdraw his support and his additional five thousand pounds, and The Tantalus Club would be forced to close before it had truly opened. And if she did escape, she wouldn’t discover what he had planned for the day. “No, I’m fine. But thank you for asking. I’ll be back later.”

“Very well.”

Halfway down the stairs it occurred to her that she’d forgotten something rather significant. She stopped. “Jenny, have we received any applications?”

“Forty as of this morning. Footmen have been bringing them by since just after daybreak.”

Oh, thank goodness.
“Excellent,” she said aloud. “Are you certain you can open the doors without me?”

“They’ll make do,” Oliver cut in. “And you’re impinging on my time. That’s enough conversation.”

Diane sent him an annoyed look for Jenny’s benefit, then followed him down to the foyer and out the front door. His high-perch phaeton and pair of jet-black horses stood there, waiting for them. Wherever they were going, then, he meant for them to be seen. Juliet handed over her black bonnet, and Diane tied it over her hair.

It had been ages since she’d ridden in a phaeton, and despite herself a thrill of excitement ran down her spine. She took his hand as he helped her up to the high seat, then waited as he walked around the back of the carriage and clambered up the other side. Without another word he took the reins, nodded at the groom holding the horses, and flicked the ribbons. In a heartbeat they were off, trotting down the street in the direction of Hyde Park.