An Indecent Proposition (25 page)

As brightly as possible, she said, “I will see you tomorrow morning, then, my lord.”

After he’d gone, she sank back down miserably and stared at a crystal vase of hothouse roses that sat on top of a polished parquet table across the room. Alfred had brought them to her a few days before and several of the yellow blooms had begun to wither, going brown around the edges, their heads just beginning to droop.

He was really a very thoughtful man. Considerate, polite, and very eligible. He would make a good dutiful husband and treat her with respect and affection.

Was he in love with her? He’d never said so, and she doubted there were real passionate feelings behind his proposal of marriage. She was from a good family and well dowered, and she knew he admired her looks. In short, she was very suitable and he was looking for a suitable wife.

Good God,
suitable
. How she suddenly loathed that word.

 

Derek heard the familiar hum of male voices punctuated by the occasional laugh and nodded at the steward. “Is the duke here, Frederick?”

As immaculately dressed as any of the patrons of the club, the young man inclined his head. “Good evening, my lord. Yes, indeed he is. At the usual table.”

“Thank you.”

The air held the smell of tobacco with an overlying hint of brandy, and he passed several tables of acquaintances who hailed him, delaying his progress. When he finally reached the corner of the room, he saw Nicholas sprawled in his usual careless pose, a slight frown on his face. He nursed a glass of spirits, his long fingers wrapped around the bowl.

Without preamble Derek dropped into the opposite chair and reached for a glass. The whiskey he preferred had already been delivered, a testament to the efficiency of the staff. “I got your note. You’re back early, I see.”

“At the prime minister’s request.”

“Ah. Always a difficult one to refuse. Lord Liverpool calls and we answer.”

“Indeed.”

Actually the tone of Nick’s missive had been a little brusque and Derek was understandably curious as hell about his friend’s week in the country—and the arms of Lady Wynn. “Tell me, was it a relief to leave? You’d been there . . . what? Five days? I still say that’s a long time in the company of one woman.”

“Depends on the woman.”

That was a new sentiment from a known rake. “Does it, now?”

Nicholas finally lifted his glass and took a sip before answering. “Actually, I was disappointed to have it cut short.”

With sharpened interest, Derek said, “I take it our luscious Caroline lives up to her beauty.”

“And then some, yes.” Nicholas gave him what could only be described as a quelling look.

“That’s a little surprising. While she is very attractive, of course, I wouldn’t have expected her to turn out to be a hot little piece between the sheets.”

“If you wish to hear details, think again, Derek.”

The curt, warning tone was hardly what he expected of a man who’d whisked off a lovely woman for a week of sexual pleasure. He settled back a little in his chair. “I didn’t ask for details, Nick. A bit touchy, aren’t we?”

The answer was a small grunt that didn’t give much in the way of information, but Derek had already surmised something unusual was going on. He’d been surprised enough by his friend’s unusual impatience to get the lady to the country in the first place, and now Nicholas seemed downright surly to be back.

He’d been surly himself lately, but that was due to his untenable situation with Annabel.

They were well used to being honest with each other, so Derek said bluntly, “You’re in one devil of a foul mood.”

“Look who is speaking. If I had a coin for every time you’ve sunk into a black humor in the past months, I’d significantly increase my fortune.”

Well, that was hard to deny; instead Derek took a hefty drink from his glass. He wasn’t ready yet to tell his friend about the debacle a year ago and the ensuing blunders that just seemed to make it all worse. Thomas knew, and that was enough.

Annabel knew, and it
wasn’t
enough.

With unnecessary vehemence, Nicholas said suddenly, “Her husband should have been horsewhipped.”

Derek blinked before he said cautiously, “Lord Wynn? What did she tell you?”

“She didn’t have to tell me anything. Let’s just say Caroline’s response to our infantile male posturing involved some measure of courage. I admire her for it.”

In the background someone laughed heartily, the raucous sound rising above the usual murmured conversation. Derek felt confused. “At the risk of seeming obtuse—which has certainly happened before—can you elaborate?”

“He was a vicious bastard.”

“Oh, I see.” The tone of Lady Wynn’s note took on a whole new meaning.

Whatever the devil
had
happened in Essex, it had been more than a simple sexual rendezvous. Derek tried to look noncommittal and finished off his first glass of fine whiskey as he assimilated this new development. He gestured to have it refilled.

“I suppose, now that she’s back in London, you’ll . . . well, I suppose you’ll make arrangements.” Nicholas rubbed his lean jaw, an irritated expression on the handsome face so many women admired. For his meeting with the prime minister he wore a fitted green velvet jacket, the embroidery on his waistcoat a matching emerald, beige breeches, and highly polished boots. His ebony hair was a contrast to his pristine white cravat, just edged with lace, but the faint scowl detracted from the impression of elegant courtier.

Bloody hell, the infamous Rothay was jealous! Derek realized it with no small measure of shock.

Even though he had no intention any longer of touching the lady in question, he couldn’t pass by this opportunity to test the waters and see if he might be right. “I can’t wait,” he fibbed, leaning back in his chair in a languid movement and fingering his glass as the waiter hurried away. “I’ve been bored lately and could use a good fuck.”

Sure enough, something glimmered in his friend’s dark eyes at the deliberate crudity. Nicholas growled, “Refer to it that way again, and I’ll . . .”

Derek waited, one brow lifted.

Oh yes, definitely possessive of the formerly standoffish Lady Wynn.

Nicholas muttered, “I sent you the note to meet me because I wanted to tell you to be careful with her. That’s all.”

“Careful?”

“Yes, careful. Gentle. Don’t rush things.”

“Are you truly
instructing
me on how to bed her?” His incredulity was tempered by sympathetic amusement.

“I’m just saying . . .” For the second time Nicholas trailed off, his fingers tightening on his glass. Then he added ferociously, “Bloody hell.”

He stood suddenly and stalked off without so much as a good-bye.

Derek pursed his lips in a silent whistle as he watched the duke’s tall form exit the room.

Since Derek had once committed the unforgivable sin of resisting his own feelings, he understood all too well how it could affect a man’s life. But he also knew old habits died hard. Perhaps Nicholas wasn’t ready to admit he was at the least smitten, and quite possibly more.

Well, Derek might not be able to resolve his own problem with Annabel, but maybe he could aid Nicholas. As he sat there, a germ of an idea occurred to him and he mulled it over, staring at his glass of whiskey but not drinking it.

Women fell for Nicholas like autumn leaves drifting from a tree. If the gorgeous widow had once been in a horrible marriage, how had she reacted to the seductive powers of one of England’s most accomplished lovers? Judging by the way the Duke of Rothay had just acted, something momentous must have happened.

Now, this was truly interesting.

Yes—though not for the original purpose Nicholas insinuated—maybe he should make arrangements to see the lady.

T
he hour was late, she was tired, and her visitor wouldn’t give her butler his name. Caroline frowned at the scrawled cryptic letters on the plain card, and then realized who it must be with a flicker of consternation. “Yes, Norman, I’ll see the gentleman. Please show him into Edward’s study.”

The elderly man, clad in his dressing gown, inclined his head, showing no curiosity over the very unusual event in a normally quiet household, but she could guess what he was thinking. Her recent absence, too, was not usual for her.

EofM
. It had to stand for the Earl of Manderville. She’d asked for discretion and was fairly sure an evening visit to her town house didn’t qualify. The man must have heard from Nicholas they were back already.

He certainly didn’t waste any time coming to see her. It was hard to decide whether to be flattered or annoyed. As luck would have it, she was still dressed, because she’d dozed off in the sitting room while reading after dinner. Taking a tray in her room was easier than going through the formal ritual in the dining room by herself. The staff hadn’t expected her back yet either, so cold chicken, cheese, and fresh bread could be eaten just as easily upstairs. She did it often enough. Even sitting at the long table all alone was better than dining with Edward, but still, it made her feel downhearted and emphasized she was alone.

Like she needed that. She had to wonder if the idyllic tryst with the beautiful Rothay had made life more difficult, instead of working as a cure to her melancholy.

Caroline glanced in the mirror, smoothed her hair, and then went down to see what Derek Drake wished to discuss with her that couldn’t wait until a more civilized hour.

At first glance into the study she was a bit startled, then relieved, and then amused. She went into the room and quietly shut the door. “Good evening, my lord.”

He turned and noted the laugh quivering on her lips, a rueful smile touching his well-shaped mouth. “Good evening. You see, I can be as inventive as you, my lady. I walked also, just to be sure no one paid any attention to horse or carriage.”

It was true. He was dressed like a tradesman in plain garb, a drab coat hanging off his wide shoulders, worn trousers encasing his long legs, and somewhere he’d found scuffed old boots. A battered hat lay on a chair. He stood by the window, tall and imposing in spite of his state of dress, and though at a glance one might believe the disguise, she guessed much time in his company would belie the plebian image. It was that same easy confidence in the way he held himself that Nicholas had, so much harder to conceal than physical appearance.

She murmured, “I’m pleased, naturally, that you took care to make sure no one would recognize you, but am a bit puzzled as to why you are here, much less at this hour.”

She wasn’t looking forward to telling Derek Drake that she’d changed her mind about her part in the wager. He would want to know why. A sophisticated rogue like the earl was probably going to be very amused at her naïveté if she told him the truth. Though she was sure she wasn’t the first woman to tumble so quickly into love with the Duke of Rothay, she was still trying to understand her feelings and be as objective as possible about the situation. Another unfortunate part of her decision was that if Derek and Nicholas decided the bet stood and still wanted to settle it, it meant Nicholas would entertain some other woman with his lavish charm and glorious skill in the bedroom.

It hurt to think of it, which made her doubly a fool.

What did she expect? That after her he’d be celibate? He’d asked to see her again and she’d said no. It was the end of it.

“I could have waited until tomorrow,” Derek said abruptly, “but calling at night made being recognized less of an issue and what I need to discuss with you is much better done face-to-face. I’ve waited long enough to do something and what I’ve chosen so far hasn’t worked.”

A little confused, Caroline chose a chair and sat down, folding her hands in her lap. Despite her resolve to stay cool, she blushed. “I know we need to arrange our . . . well, week, but—”

“Excuse the unforgivable interruption, but it isn’t about that.” He made a restless movement with his hand. “Well, indirectly, I suppose. What happened between you and Nick?”

What a question. She stared, her face heating further. “I beg your pardon?”

Whatever was in her expression, he understood it. Of course he did; he was very suave with women and familiar with their moods by all accounts. He gave a short laugh. “I’m not asking for specifics, believe me. I understand how it all works. Not what happened between you in the bedroom, but what else? I saw him earlier and he’s not at all himself. He’s rattled. More than that, I think he wanted to warn me off. To cancel our challenge.”

The study around her, with its vague lingering scent of leather and whiskey, seemed to fade. Caroline looked at the tall man across the room and felt a twinge of . . . what? Hope? Happiness?

“I can’t go through with it anyway.” She made her confession in a small voice as she tried to comprehend what he was telling her. “I was going to send you a note. I’m sorry to renege, but I . . . must.”

To her surprise, Derek’s expression seemed to lighten at her mumbled words, even though she hadn’t directly answered his question.

“Why must you cancel?”

No, if she said it out loud, she’d become emotionally involved. A verbal acknowledgment would make it painfully true. He might even tell Nicholas she thought she had fallen in love with him.

No.

“Personal reasons,” she said with what she hoped was succinct dismissal of the subject. “Once again, I apologize for backing out.”

“Do these personal reasons revolve around one very stubborn and independent duke?” There was a disconcerting shrewdness in his blue eyes.

For years she’d fooled everyone into thinking she was cold and unfeeling. Now it appeared she’d lost that ability. Caroline cleared her throat. “Please do not ask me that.”