Compromising Miss Tisdale (10 page)

Ambrosia nodded. “Unforeseen tragedy leaves so much unsaid, undone. It really proves to show that there just aren’t second chances in this world.”

The two sipped their tea, allowing their tragic commonality to hang between them, filling the space.

Duncan suddenly felt a flash of pain and desperate desire to flee.

He needed to leave.

Immediately.

It was too much for him, too raw.

He stood abruptly. “I should be going,” he blurted.

Ambrosia immediately followed suit. The two found themselves both on their feet, facing each other.

She looked up at him, with eyes that were no longer slate, but liquid, inviting him to swim in their depths. It was instinctual for her, he thought. She was naïve as to what a look like that could do to a man, and he’d wager she hadn’t the knowledge she was even doing it. It was an innocent sensuality that she possessed—no guile, no pretense. He had merely tasted it before, but in this moment, with her body so close to his, the tension between them obvious, he knew that there was a great deal of heat lurking under that cold veneer of hers.

It was also at this moment that he became acutely aware of the opportunity presented in front of him. Reminiscing had made her vulnerable. It had been his experience that women were particularly easy to seduce after poignant musings, grieving, or crying for any trivial reason. He could kiss her; possibly even do more given the proper encouragement. He could compromise her right then and there.

Suddenly, Miss Tisdale took a step back, as if she had heard his thoughts. She looked down at the floor, averting his eyes, and thus all likelihood of further seduction.

“I apologize for going on like I did. I assure you that this kind of rambling is highly atypical of me.”

“’Tis a pity then, since I rather enjoyed it.”

She frowned at his candor. “Well, I believe you were readying yourself to leave. I shall bid you good day, then.”

It was a curt dismissal if ever he had heard one. Ambrosia gave him no greater regard than when he had first entered the home, despite the poignant moments and sincere conversation they had shared.

Duncan heeded her notice and turned on foot to exit the Tisdale home. His intention had been to entice her, to finally win her over. But it appeared he had been no more successful in winning the affections of Miss Tisdale than he had been at the park.

Yet he had the distinct feeling that perhaps
he
was the one who was affected by Miss Tisdale, rather than the other way around. It was as if she were beginning to win
him
over. And that suspicion left him unnerved, to say the least.

Chapter 10

His world had been flipped upside down.

Quite literally.

Duncan looked out from the slit of his partially opened eye. The other one was refusing to cooperate for some reason.

The sofa was upside down. The tables—upside down. Even James, sitting with some tart across his lap, with his hand halfway up hers skirts, was upside down.

He cranked his neck to the side, causing him to roll over and fall from his position on the chaise to an awkward pile on the rug.

Pain seared through him, but at least the world was right-side up again.

Much better
.

“Are you alive, then?”

Duncan thought for a moment before answering. “If the throbbing in my head is any indication, then yes, I do presume to be amongst the living. It is a relief, since I had hoped death would not be nearly as painful.”

James laughed, then shared a sloppy kiss with the girl across his lap. “Love, how about you go get freshened up a bit while I talk to my friend?” He pinched the scantily clad woman on the bum as she maneuvered her ample body to a standing position. She giggled hysterically in response to the lewd gesture, causing her obscenely large breasts to practically fall out of her chemise.

“Who is that?” Duncan asked after she’d left the room.

James shrugged. “How am I supposed to know? I just picked her up last night.”

Duncan snickered, sending a jolt of pain through his ribcage. “She seems quite . . . intelligent.”

James chuckled. “Quite brilliant, really. You know how I love a woman with such enormous . . . ”

“Wit?” Duncan finished, reaching for assistance to get up from the floor.

“Of course.” James helped him back to a chair. “Your girls may not have had as much wit, but it sounded like they made up for it in other ways.”

Girls?

Plural?

Duncan rubbed his side. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

“I remember enough to be pleased with the evening, but not enough to feel guilty.”  

“Ahhh. Perhaps, do you think you could enlighten me, then?”

“It was a long night.” James yawned. “Where would you like me to start?”

“Why is it that I hurt so much and in so many different places?”

James put his feet up on a nearby table. “Because of the fight,” he said matter-of-factly.

“We were in a fight?”

James laughed. “Not
we
. It was only
you
. I have more sense than to swing at someone twice my size with an entire brood of brothers nearby.”

So, that was why his left eye was swollen shut and he felt as if he’d been trampled by wild horses.

“And Scots to boot. What were you thinking?”

Obviously, he hadn’t been
.

“But, thankfully you were so drunk by that point you barely noticed.”

That would be why his head felt as if it were splitting in two.

“Of course, you had to find someone to nurse your wounds. What better place for healing than a brothel?”

Presumably, the establishment with all those
witty
girls
.

“Luckily, you’d done well enough at the tables that you could still afford a romp or two.”

So, he hadn’t gambled away what was left in his pathetic accounts. That was good.

“Then we sat with some other fellows and played a few hands of cards. Badly. You have quite a bit of paper floating out there, now.”

So much for his pathetic accounts.

“Afterward, we ventured back to your townhouse to make the best of the night. And that is when things truly started to get interesting.”

Started
to get interesting?

Duncan held up a hand. He’d heard enough, finally remembering what had initially inspired his little foray into depravity.

When he’d left the Tisdale home, he’d felt . . . uneasy. Things were not developing at the pace he had hoped. And there was the messy matter of his feelings he was being forced to contend with. Usually, he hadn’t any, but as he sat there listening to the lovely Miss Tisdale discuss her late brother, he had felt a rush of the little buggers. He felt guilt over his motives. He felt empathy for her brother’s death. He felt a genuine interest in her family.

And worst of all, he had felt the insane desire to make love to Miss Tisdale on the drawing room floor for no other reason but the sheer enjoyment of it.

None of these could he permit himself to feel in his current predicament.

He was supposed to court, seduce, marry, and abandon Miss Tisdale. There wasn’t time to form a genuine attachment, nor did he want to. To him, marriage wasn’t about a relationship between two individuals, but rather it was about the sizeable dowry and final opportunity to redeem his family’s reputation.

Then there was the dismal reality that Miss Tisdale was quite the respectable young lady with an apparent immunity to his charms. It was a small detail with a considerable effect, making the entire situation quite a bit more difficult than he had initially estimated it to be. She seemed intent on securing what she deemed to be a most
acceptable
offer, which was likely to be a great deal more than what he had intended to give.

Expectation did not become him, so he sought escape from being the Earl of Bristol for a while, and allowed himself to become reacquainted with his previous role as second son, Duncan Maddox. Luckily, he had spotted James at the first club he came across, giving him a willing accomplice during the evening’s corrupt misadventures.

Duncan noticed a woman’s stocking hanging over the mantle. He closed his eyes and tried to recall the leg he had presumably removed it from.

He was unable to visualize the leg. Instead, he saw a chestnut-tressed beauty with deep blue eyes and the slightest dimple in her chin.

“I believe it’s time for us to rethink the plan,” he blurted out, shaking the image from his mind.

James sat up to attention. “Why? The plan is perfect.”

“Well, the plan itself isn’t the issue. Rather, it is the woman we have chosen to be involved with the plan.”

“What’s wrong, Bristol? Not as easy as you thought it would be? Am I to assume that Miss Tisdale is indeed immune to the Maddox charm?” James laughed. “I expected more out of you, ol’ boy. Are you so easily defeated by a bit of challenge?”

Duncan cleared his throat, the blow to his ego landing precisely where James had intended. “I assure you, my charm is intact and just as potent as ever. I will admit, Miss Tisdale is a most taxing female, but I am certain that if given the time, she would eventually submit. But I just don’t feel as if she is truly the best of candidates. Perhaps there is someone else a bit less . . . ”

Less beautiful.

James adamantly shook his head. “There is no one else. You wanted rich, reputable, and in desperate need of a husband.”

“There has to be someone else. This is London—center of the world and all. I just don’t feel that Miss Tisdale and I would . . . fit.”

He was not being entirely honest. In fact, he could imagine himself fitting with Miss Tisdale quite nicely in a multitude of ways. And it was not as if he
doubted
his own abilities. Her indifference was humbling to say the least, but nothing he couldn’t get passed. In fact, he found it refreshing not to have a woman fall into his arms with so much as a glance and a couple of carefully chosen compliments. But after learning of their like experiences, he began to feel something toward the girl that just didn’t sit right with him. He thought perhaps it best to find an entirely different target before things became messy. Unwieldy.

“There isn’t anyone,” James proclaimed. “If Miss Tisdale’s dowry is half of what I’ve heard it is, then you’re set for life. And her advanced age only helps matters. If she were a younger girl, than one could argue that even compromised, there would still be a chance for her to find another husband. But after four Seasons, there isn’t enough interest for her parents to put up much of a fuss.”

His friend was right. Miss Tisdale was exactly what he needed, given the little time he had to accomplish such a monumental task.

“You just need to try harder,” James scolded. “Now stop carrying on like some woman and get out there and compromise the girl.” He sat back in the settee, superiority and reprisal written all over his pretty face.

The butler scampered into the room and bowed as if to make an announcement. He hadn’t quite gotten the words out when an older gentleman came walking purposefully behind him. It was like looking in a mirror, twenty years in the future.

“Duncan? What is the meaning of all this?”

Duncan looked over at the clock standing against the wall. It was half passed two!

He was supposed to have met his uncle at one for a review of the family accounts with their solicitor. He had been putting it off for weeks, not seeing any value in looking over something he paid good money for others to do.

“Meaning of what?” Duncan asked with feigned innocence.

Richard looked about the room, disgust readily evident by his expression. “It smells like a pub in here.”

“An upstanding pub with the finest clientele I hope,” Duncan stood up, timidly.

Richard obviously did not find the remark as humorous as he did.

His uncle walked toward the mantle and removed the lone stocking. He held it up as far away from his body as possible, by just his forefinger and thumb, disapproval clearly written all over his face. “Were you
entertaining
? Is that why you didn’t bother to keep our appointment? I had the solicitor there to help you review the ledgers. Estates need managed, Duncan. Accounts need managed—people are dependent on you now. Entire families survive on what comes out of these ventures. Dammit, Duncan! Your choices no longer affect only yourself anymore.”

Duncan reached out and removed the stocking, balled it up and threw it behind him. “Last night I might have had a few guests over and it appears that I must have lost track of the time. I do apologize, it won’t happen again.”

It would and they both knew it.

Richard looked past Duncan at the chair James occupied. “Your Grace.”

James stood, though he leaned a bit lopsidedly. “Mr. Maddox! It is so good to see you again. However, I cannot stay too long. I myself, also have an appointment.”

Duncan snorted. “With whom?”

James gathered his things from about the room. “Regarding my investments. I do believe my man of affairs has some documents regarding a series of mining opportunities in the west for me to review. Pleasure seeing you again, Mr. Maddox.” He bowed out of the room, closing the doors and leaving the two men alone.

Richard rubbed his temples and avoided looking Duncan in the eyes. “I thought we discussed your behavior? You were supposed to be setting a fine example, yet I hear nothing but stories of your exploits. They’re all across the broadsheets. The gambling, the women, the brawls? Isn’t this the very reason your father sent you away in the first place?”

“Ironic isn’t it? Father sending me away for the very behavior that he himself was renowned for?”

Richard exhaled deeply. “It’s not ironic, it’s hypocritical.”

“Mere semantics.”

“Your father sent you away because he hadn’t the time to cover up both your mistakes and his own. And it is quite time that you move on and cease with all the childish resentment. You carry on as if your father had kicked your puppy. Besides, it’s not as if his actions managed to curb
your
behavior any. You were the same boy, doing the same things, just at a greater distance from London so not to bother your father or influence your brother. I had thought after a while you would grow out of it—this need to do the opposite of whatever is expected of you. That somehow, you would come to your senses and stop acting out for the sake of inciting a reaction and act more like a man.
Like an Earl
. But I see I was wrong. You’re the exact same petulant boy, perhaps just a bit taller and with broader shoulders.”