An Indecent Proposition (38 page)

Yes, definitely tears. Not that Annabel blamed her. She’d be weeping buckets herself under similar circumstances. She sank down next to her, ignoring the damp fabric of the settee, and took the other woman’s shaking hand. “Of course I would help. I was just telling your butler my name when I heard you scream. Normally, I would never call this early in the morning, but now I am glad I did.”

“It was excellent timing.” The other woman smiled faintly. “I suppose that’s undeniable. By the time I realized his intentions, it was too late to summon help.”

They both surveyed the man prone on the floor as if he were a distasteful pile of rubbish.

“I suppose,” Annabel said in a matter-of-fact voice, “we will need to do something with him.”

“I suppose we will.” Caroline gave a weak laugh. “Can I mention again how glad I am you arrived when you did?”

“I can only imagine.”

A shudder shook Lady Wynn’s slender shoulders. She seemed to realize her skirts were disheveled and adjusted them more demurely.

“My lady, what would you have me do?” The butler looked more than just a little chagrined at what had almost happened to his mistress. “A magistrate would be in order to my mind.”

Caroline shook her head. “Give me a moment to think. I fear I am now embroiled in a scandal no matter which way I turn.”

Annabel said with force, “Please do not let me hear you will allow him to get away with this. I am a witness if he tries to deny it.”

A small groan told them he was already coming around.

“I know him.” Caroline looked whiter than ever. “He will make this more unpleasant than it already is if I am not careful. I am going to have to deal with this.” Caroline squared her shoulders and her crisp tone indicated she had made a decision. “I don’t seek to make it worse without trying to circumvent the damage, but one can only try.” She looked at the hovering butler. “Can you please arrange to have someone come in here to put Lord Wynn in his carriage and send him home?”

“Certainly. Of course.” The man bustled off, looking relieved to be given the reprieve of actual duties. He was efficient too, for in moments two young men hurried in, hauled the semiconscious man up off the floor, and bodily carried him out of the room.

Annabel stared curiously at the woman who had so calmly arrived on her doorstep less than a week before and taken the time and trouble to dissuade her from making what in retrospect was a huge mistake. Marrying Alfred would have made her miserable and bereft, and maybe even ruined both their lives. Knocking the apparently despicable Lord Wynn over the head with a vase full of flowers was a good start in repayment of a grave debt, but she was willing to do more.

Despite being doused with water and nearly ravaged on her own couch, Lady Wynn was able to draw a mantle of reserve around her. Annabel said plainly, “I do not see how you can possibly ever rest easy if that man does not pay for his affront. I agree that charges before a magistrate are the best course. You do not seem to me like the kind of woman who would let him get away with such a dastardly attempt.”

Caroline gazed at her with those remarkable silver eyes. “I can’t protect myself from every eventuality. He tried to blackmail me, and when it didn’t work, he attacked me. I think maybe it might be best if I just gave him the money he desires so much. Perhaps he will then leave me alone.”

“Or perhaps you will be even more powerless against him,” Annabel pointed out. “Hire a guard. Or several. Take it public the way he just treated you.”

Lady Wynn shook her head. “I wish it were that simple.”

Why wasn’t it? Annabel knit her brow. After a moment, she said slowly, “I’m confused. You mentioned blackmail. How could he possibly—”

“The wager,” Caroline interrupted her, looking resolute yet still pale.

The wager. For a moment Annabel didn’t understand and then it dawned on her what the other woman might be saying.

“You?” Annabel was stunned, and she felt a stab of jealousy. “You said Derek never touched—”

“He didn’t.” Lady Wynn pursed trembling lips together. “He’s in love with you. Trust me, he wouldn’t. I think at the beginning the earl thought he could . . . but things changed.”

“Why would you ever do such a thing?” Considering the circumstances, and because Derek was involved, Annabel felt she had the right to ask. “Forgive me, but it seems rather out of character.”

Caroline’s smile was brittle. “I had my reasons. Tell me, if you wished to know if you were truly passionless and wanting as a woman, who better to turn to than two men who claim to be superlative lovers? I knew the risks, I suppose, so the current state of affairs is entirely something I brought on myself. They both promised me anonymity, but I underestimated Franklin’s interest in my inheritance. He wants to marry me to gain it, and when I declined his charming offer, he tried to force himself on me. He will be more vindictive than ever after this.”

Annabel realized the implications of being labeled as the wanton critic in the contest murmured over by everyone in a society inclined to judge women with unforgiving exactitude.

Lord Wynn had somehow discovered his cousin’s widow’s secret participation. Even if she and Derek had never engaged in the act itself, her involvement in any guise would serve to make her as notorious as Derek and the duke, if not more so because of her gender.

Annabel murmured, “I see your dilemma.”

Caroline pressed a hand that shook to her forehead and took in an audible breath. “My reputation will be in tatters by nightfall. I could try and brazen it out, I suppose, but I don’t think I am stalwart enough for that. When Franklin starts spreading the word, everyone will remember I was gone at the same time as Nicholas not long ago. Denial would be futile.”

Annabel couldn’t help but recall how the woman sitting next to her explained the differences there could be between two lovers in their previous meeting. If her former husband had been a horrible man—and it seemed to run in the family—that meant the dashing Duke of Rothay was the man who . . . how had Caroline phrased it? Made making love more pleasurable than was imaginable? Since Annabel now knew full well what she meant, she had to wonder about the lovely Lady Wynn’s relationship with the infamous Rothay. She asked quietly, “What about the duke? Surely he’d help you deny the accusation.”

With what looked like infinite weariness, Caroline dropped her hand back into her lap. “No. I am a grown woman and entered into the agreement of my own free will. I’ll not ask him to lie for me, and besides, he has given me more than you can imagine already.”

The beautiful, usually distant Lady Wynn had fallen in love with the Devilish Duke, Annabel realized with a start. It was there in the poignant expression on Caroline’s face, etched in the set of her mouth and the hint of sadness in her eyes. “Has he?” she murmured, a new understanding of the situation settling over her.

Caroline nodded. “Though I hoped his feelings were as engaged as mine, it doesn’t seem to be the case. To tell you the truth, I’ve thought of moving to the country. Perhaps all this is a sign I should go through with that plan.”

“I don’t think running away will solve anything,” Annabel said in objection, trying to think of a way to help.

With quiet dignity, Caroline disagreed, “I don’t think I have much of a choice. I responded to Lord Manderville’s and the duke’s wager in the first place because I wanted to change my life. It worked, but, as with most things, not exactly as planned.” She rose, graceful but obviously still pale and shaken. “I hate to be an ungracious hostess especially after what you just did for me, but I think you can understand I need to begin to make arrangements. Will you excuse me?”

N
icholas battled an uncharacteristic feeling of disquiet and studied the famous mural on the opposite wall of the formal drawing room. Who had painted it? Off the top of his head, he couldn’t think of the name. The peaceful scene of water and wood presented a soothing ideal, complete with a playful cupid peeping out from behind a Grecian folly, bow in hand.

Real life was not that simple. There were no cherubic nymphs with well-poised arrows . . . or maybe there were. Hard to say. He had been stricken, that was for certain, and though he’d come to the conclusion that wound was not something he could recover from, he still had to deal with the realities.

He cocked a brow at the mischievous-looking figure with laurel leaves in a ring on his little head.

“You wished to speak to me?” His mother entered the room, an inquiring look on her face, as lovely as ever in rose silk, her dark hair coiffed and perfect. Diamonds glittered at her throat and wrist.

He bowed. “Mother. I appreciate the audience.”

Her brows shot up. “That sounded frightfully formal, Nicholas. So did your note. Why send up a footman when you can come see me yourself at any time? Darling, do you mind enlightening me? You’ve been a bit odd since your return from your trip.”

Once he did this—once he told her—it was going to be official and the thought made him restive. She was right; he was probably wandering around like an idiot. Certainly he wasn’t getting much accomplished except brooding over the situation. He cleared his throat, prepared himself to simply tell her, and then muttered instead, “I need a brandy. Would you like something?”

“Do I need something?” She sank down on an ecru satin settee and stared at him. “I must say your expression is making me uneasy.”

“Try being me,” he said darkly, and dashed brandy into a glass, took a solid sip, and then set the glass aside. The truth was best.

He turned, met her gaze, and steeled himself. “I have something of import to say. I thought it best if we were alone and this formality”—he gestured at the elegant salon—“seems appropriate to the moment.”

She rested her hands in her lap, her dark brows raised. “You can only imagine my curiosity. What is it?”

“I’m . . . well . . . considering marriage.”

Her mouth opened slightly and her eyes widened. After a prolonged moment, she said, “I see. I must be out of touch. I wasn’t aware you were courting anyone. As a matter of fact, I am sure I would have been told if you were. Society pays such close attention to your every move.”

“My reputation requires discretion. She isn’t interested in being openly associated with me.”

His mother bristled. Dark eyes flashed and her tone was frosty. “Last I checked, being the Duchess of Rothay was one of the most coveted positions in England.”

The maternal show of defense made him smile wryly. “The beginning of our relationship hardly matched my intentions now. Let me rephrase. The lady has an impeccable reputation and mine is quite the opposite. I know you are aware of this. I’m labeled a rake, and in part maybe it is deserved.”

There was a short silence and then his mother sighed. “I’ll not censure you, though I haven’t always approved of all the gossip. However, handsome young men with titles and fortunes do tend to have more temptations than some others. Perhaps it is just a mother’s excuse, but I’ve always discounted most of the whispers as exaggerations.”

He felt a twinge of amusement. “I won’t confirm or deny anything specific and we’ll leave at that, shall we? Anyway, I intend to propose soon and wanted to tell you.”

Dark eyes glimmered with curiosity. “I’m delighted, naturally. The secrecy is a bit confusing, though. Any family I know would welcome an honest suit from you. There is a difference between what a man does in private when he is a bachelor and when he decides to choose a wife. I’ve seen how the society matrons trot out their daughters in front of you, reputation or no. Who is she?”

This was the tricky part. First of all, he wasn’t completely sure Caroline would accept him. She’d said she didn’t wish to marry again, but she also said she loved him. There was also the other issue to resolve.

He said quietly, “Caroline Wynn.”

“The viscount’s young widow?” His mother sat very still, surprise etched on her features.

“The same.”

She digested it. “She’s lovely . . . well, more than lovely, so I can see the attraction, but . . .”

“But?” he prompted as she trailed off.

“I don’t know. I am rather taken aback by this, Nicholas.”

“It isn’t an advantageous match in some ways, I realize that. However, before you point out bloodlines and pedigrees and social alliances, let me say none of that has ever appealed to me anyway and I’ve made my feelings clear on the subject before, I believe.” His voice was curt, so he tried to temper the tone. “I’ve thought this through, believe me.”

His mother shook her head, the late-morning light catching the silver glints threading through her hair. “I wasn’t going to say any of that.”

“No?” He lifted a brow. He braced himself for the objection. Yes, he was Rothay, he could do as he pleased, and his family could do little about it, but still, he loved them and wanted their approval. Concern for Caroline also made him want them to give their wholehearted support. She’d borne the brunt of enough neglect from her own family, such as it was. To have his relatives object to her would hurt her more and he just couldn’t have it.

“I was going to ask how you even know her. I haven’t heard a breath of insinuation at a relationship.”

That damned wager. Well, he wasn’t going to confess the truth. He said instead, “We move in the same social circles.
You
know her.”

“That’s my very point. I’ve met her. Knowing her is something else altogether. She’s quite distant.”

Nicholas shook his head, recalling Caroline’s warmth and directness, not to mention the passionate side she hid so carefully from the world. “She’s anything but distant once you get to know her. Moreover, she’s intelligent, well-read, and articulate. There’s nothing venal about her, so my fortune isn’t any part of this, and I doubt my title matters to her in the least.” He ran his hand across his face and added on a breath, “I am not at all sure she’ll accept me when I ask.”