JORDAN Nicole (12 page)

“The duke and Miss Loring will be our guests for the night, Pointon,” she added. “Show them to the green parlor, if you please, and bring them refreshments while you attend to their accommodations. His grace has no luggage, but I believe passable attire may be found for him in Sir Rupert’s wardrobe.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

“Oh, and his grace wishes to speak to our bailiff in the morning. Will you have Mr. Hickling summoned at the duke’s convenience?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Thank you, Pointon. And please send a footman to Miss Blanchard’s house to let Miss Lily Loring know her sister will not be coming this evening.” Lady Freemantle turned to Drew then with an apologetic smile. “I hope you will forgive me, your grace. I am still feeling rather faint and believe I must retire to bed. Roslyn, I trust you to entertain my guest. At the moment I am still too unnerved to be a hospitable hostess.”

Roslyn did protest at that. “Winifred,” she began, her tone tinged with vexation.

Her ladyship held up a hand. “You should have a glass of wine, my dear. I’m sure your nerves are a trifle distraught after that dreadful upset. I will see you in the morning.”

With that, Lady Freemantle turned to ascend the sweeping staircase, leaving Drew alone with the butler and a very irritated Roslyn Loring.

Chapter Five

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I agree wholeheartedly with Lily: Winifred’s matchmaking endeavors are maddening! But at least I was able to turn her meddling to my advantage.

—Roslyn to Fanny

Roslyn gritted her teeth, trying to hide her mortification. Initially she’d been alarmed by Winifred’s uncustomary feebleness, but now she was simply vexed, since it was clear that once again her ladyship was attempting to throw her at the duke’s head.

She sent him a fleeting look of apology, hoping he was astute enough to realize that she had played no part in her friend’s machinations, but his look was inscrutable.

Removing her evening cloak, Roslyn handed it to the butler. “I will direct his grace to the parlor, Pointon, if you see to the other arrangements.”

“Very good, Miss Loring.”

Silently then, she led the way down the corridor to the green parlor while Arden followed. It was an ostentatious room that bespoke wealth if not good taste. Although there was no fire in the grate, a lamp burned dimly on the mantel.

Crossing to the lamp, Roslyn turned up the flame before facing the duke with a rueful grimace. “I feel I must apologize for Lady Freemantle, your grace. She is evidently set on matchmaking, but you needn’t feel threatened. You are in no danger from me.”

An ironic smile played across his lips. “I remember. You have set your sights on Haviland.”

Roslyn felt color rise to her cheeks. “Well…yes.” She gestured toward the brocade couch. “Please, make yourself comfortable. Pointon will bring you wine shortly.”

With a polite curtsy, she started to leave, but Arden’s amused drawl followed her. “You needn’t run away again, Miss Loring.”

Her gaze snapping back to his, she halted, nettled by his provoking tone. “I am not running. I amwalking to the library to fetch a book to read, since I am too agitated to sleep.”

His penetrating glance surveyed her. “Eleanor told me you are bookish.” When that elicited no response, he said more pointedly, “Stay and have some wine. You look as if you could use it.”

Roslyn hesitated. Winifred had been right on that score at least; shewas still shaken by the attempted robbery.

Pointon entered just then with a tray containing a decanter of wine and two crystal wine goblets. When the duke instructed him to leave the tray on a side table, the butler did as he was bid and bowed himself out.

“Sit down, Roslyn,” Arden ordered as he went to the table to pour them each a glass of wine.

Roslyn didn’t protest. Deplorably, her hands were trembling. Sinking onto the couch, she clasped her fingers together and gave a small laugh. “It is foolish to be so missish. The peril is long passed.”

“It isn’t foolish at all,” the duke replied. “You could have been shot tonight.”

She glanced up at him as he carried her glass over to her. “Have you ever shot someone before?”

“Once, to foil another highway robbery. I was more successful that time.”

“You were successful this time. The thief didn’t make off with Winifred’s jewels as he intended. She would have been devastated to lose her brooch—although I doubt she is quite as distraught as she claims.”

Arden settled beside her with the fluid elegance that characterized all his movements, making Roslyn suddenly very aware of his proximity. She quickly took a sip of wine to distract herself. “It was kind of you to remain here tonight to solace our nerves, but you needn’t become any more involved in our affairs.”

He gave a shrug of his lithe shoulders as he relaxed back against the couch. “Marcus would never forgive me if I let harm befall you when I could have prevented it.”

At his casual movement, Roslyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She couldn’t help remembering the feel of the hard-muscled body concealed beneath that impeccably tailored coat. She drank another swallow of wine, trying to discipline her wayward thoughts. “You are not responsible for my welfare, your grace.”

“I know. But I still plan to remain here for a day or two.”

She managed a wry smile. “If you stay, her ladyship’s matchmaking will only get worse.”

“Don’t concern yourself. I’ve had ample experience foiling eager matchmakers.” His tone was still amused, but an undercurrent of cynicism had crept into his voice.

“I can imagine,” Roslyn replied, before returning to the problem of the holdup. “So you mean to meet with the bailiff, Mr. Hickling, tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, to have him begin a search for the highwayman.”

“I would like to be present.” When Arden raised an eyebrow, Roslyn expounded. “I saw the culprit up close, so I can offer the best description. And I know most everyone in the district and where to search.” She paused, gazing down at her glass. “The real truth is, however, I would like to feel as if I am contributing. I don’t like feeling so helpless.”

Arden nodded as if he understood. “You are welcome to join us, sweeting. But only if you promise me never to challenge any more armed bandits. You should allow me the chance to play the hero.”

Roslyn shot him a sharp glance before realizing that he was baiting her in a deliberate attempt to take her mind off the robbery. “Youwere rather heroic tonight,” she admitted lightly, making an effort to quell her disquiet.

“So were you.”

“You said I was foolhardy.”

His slow grin was irresistible. “That too.”

Roslyn smiled back at him. The wine was succeeding in relaxing her somewhat, so she wasn’t quite as unnerved by Arden’s nearness. But it still was deplorable the way her pulse reacted to him. It was a purely physical response, of course. Her emotions were not engaged in the least. She wasn’t even sure sheliked the duke. She certainly couldn’t deny her attraction, however.

She was glad when he changed the subject, even though the one he chose was just as provoking.

“Marcus told me of your bluestocking tendencies,” Arden said, studying her. “And Eleanor says that you read Latin. I confess I find it surprising.”

“Why?” Roslyn queried. “You don’t believe women should be educated in masculine disciplines?”

“No, I just wonder at your having such an unusual interest. You don’t look to be the scholarly type.”

Her smile this time was cool. “Many people mistakenly leap to that conclusion. They take one look at me and assume I don’t have a mind. You did yourself the night we first met. Your proposition was based entirely on my appearance.”

“Not entirely. Your wit appealed to me, too.”

She laughed at that. “You had no chance to determine my wit before you offered to make me your mistress.”

“I believe the circumstances justified my assumption about you,” Arden said amiably. “I thought you a courtesan.”

“But even men who know that I am a lady rarely look beneath the surface.”

“So you consider your beauty a disadvantage rather than an attribute?” he clarified, his tone skeptical.

Her smile turned strained. “It frequently is. No woman wants to be plain, of course, but beauty can make one a target for the worst sort of reprobates.”

“Marcus said a wastrel recently pursued you.”

Her brows drew together as she eyed Arden. “You seem to have discussed a great deal about me with Marcus.”

“Not a great deal. He volunteered the information several months ago when he was lamenting inheriting responsibility for you and your sisters.”

Roslyn squared her shoulders. “Well, I have been propositioned too many times for comfort. ButI intend to do the propositioning this time.”

The gleam of amusement in Arden’s eyes only deepened. “And your proposition entails marriage.”

“Indeed. I intend to find a husband who can love me for myself, not for something so superficial as my appearance.”

She stared at Arden defiantly, expecting him to say something cutting, but he merely took a swallow of wine.

“Why choose Haviland?” he finally asked.

“Because I think he would make an ideal husband for me.”

The duke responded with a sardonic lift of one eyebrow. “How so?”

“For one thing, he doesn’t see me as a featherhead or an object to covet. And I sincerely like him. He is intelligent and kind, and he shares my sense of the absurd. What’s more, he enjoys children and treats his elderly grandmother with affection. He doesn’t feel compelled, either, to prostrate himself before society’s dictates, which could prove beneficial for me. Given Haviland’s rebellious streak, he should be more amenable than most noblemen to having a countess tainted by family scandal.”

“It isn’t just his wealth and title that appeal to you?”

Roslyn shook her head firmly. “Wealth and title don’t make a man admirable, your grace. Lord Haviland gave up an exciting career to fulfill his familial obligations. I admire his willingness to sacrifice, to put his responsibilities over his own personal desires.”

“You expect me to believe you aren’t the least interested in his fortune?”

She eyed the duke with exasperation, realizing he was determined to think the worst of her. “You may believe whatever you like, but I don’t consider wealth a qualification for happiness, at least not if one has enough income to subsist on.” She gave a wry smile. “Four years ago the issue was in question. I thought I might have to accept a marriage of convenience in order to protect my sisters. We were penniless and disgraced and dependent on our step-uncle for our very existence. I was prepared to marry to spare my sisters having to do so if necessary. But thankfully Arabella soon hit upon the idea of starting our academy, and Lady Freemantle willingly funded the endeavor. She employed us to design the buildings and curriculum. And once our doors opened seven months later it allowed us the financial independence to choose our own futures.”

“But Marcus has provided amply for you now. I understand that you needn’t marry at all if you don’t wish to.”

“But Ido wish to marry. I don’t want to go through life as a spinster. I want a family…children.”

Arden’s mouth twisted. “How positively dull that sounds.”

Roslyn smiled. “Perhaps so, but I expect I will cherish it.”

“Passion isn’t a requirement in your marriage?”

She felt her face warm. “Passion would be agreeable but it isn’t critical. What I want more is fidelity.” When he raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation, she gave him one. “You may have heard that my father had countless mistresses. He made my mother’s life miserable…left her so hurt and humiliated that she took her own lover. I could never accept such blithe attitudes toward affairs and infidelities in my marriage. A husband who loves me will be less likely to stray from the marriage bed.”

“And you think you can make Haviland fall in love with you?”

“I hope so. I would never marry him otherwise.”

Drew stared at her for a long moment, taking in her earnest expression, the solemnity in her blue eyes. The sincerity in her arguments rang true, he conceded. Perhaps Roslyn Loring was not really as mercenary as he’d presumed. She simply had developed a logical, rational plan to go after what she wanted.

He had to admire her determination to take charge of her own fate, at least.

“You have obviously given this careful thought,” he finally said.

“I have,” Roslyn agreed, her beautiful features relaxing.

Tearing his gaze away, Drew drained his wineglass. He couldn’t imagine why an image of vulnerability kept flitting through his mind when he looked at her, since Roslyn seemed to be one of the more capable women he had ever met. Perhaps because Marcus had told him how she’d had to fight off more than one eager admirer. Her exquisite beauty, combined with her lack of fortune and her former guardian’s indifference, would make her the target of rakes and scoundrels. Which was why she had reacted so scornfully to his own improper offer, Drew suspected.

Feeling rather contradictory emotions toward her, he rose and crossed the room to refill their wineglasses. When he returned, he handed Roslyn hers but remained standing.

She thanked him and then offered him a rueful smile. “I hope you will forgive Lady Freemantle for her plotting. She means well. Now that Arabella is wed, she hopes to see Lily and me well settled. But her desire to matchmake is not driven by any avaricious motives. Winifred really is a romantic at heart.”

“As are you, it would seem,” Drew replied, his tone sardonic.

“Yes, and you are a complete cynic,” Roslyn said sweetly. “I can comprehend why, since so many women have hounded you, trying to ensnare you in matrimony. But I trust you will acquit me of having designs on you.” The teasing light in her eyes brightened. “You needn’t worry, your grace. I have no intention of joining the leagues of love-smitten females in a contest for your hand.”

Drew gave a rough chuckle. “They are hardly love-smitten. Obsessed with rank and fortune is a more apt description. They all see wealthy members of the peerage as potential marks.”