Night of Pleasure (15 page)

A breath escaped her. She squeezed her eyes. “Please don’t…don’t tell anyone. Everyone would lose respect for him.” She reopened her eyes, tears glistening within them. “He doesn’t drink as much as he used to. He falters, like all men do, and goes back to it from time to time, but he has learned to stand on his own. Which is why I’m ready to leave. I know he’ll be able to survive without me.”

By God. The poor thing had been raised by a drunk. A drunk worth over eighteen million dollars. No wonder she was overly serious and untrusting. He softened his tone so she knew he was on her side. “Did he ever physically hurt you? Did he ever—”

“No.” She shook her head. “He would never. He loves me. When he drinks, he is silly and overly jolly. Which is why he does it. It makes him feel happy and invincible.” She touched a hand to his arm with the tips of her fingers. “I knew you wouldn’t take this well. Which is why I came out to tell you in person. I felt like I owed you this much. We share a history and we wrote each other a lot of meaningful letters.”

He tried to even his breathing, sensing he could either let her go or he could fight for her in the only way he knew how. “There are guaranteed ways not to get pregnant. If that is what you want, I’ll ensure it. And maybe over time, I…you will change your mind and give us children.”

Her startled gaze met his. “You would give up your right to children for me?”

He swallowed. Could he really marry a woman who was too broken to give him children? His life would turn into a lie. He’d always wanted children and had already made a list of names written out for them to choose from.

He lowered his gaze to her small hand that still fingered the wool of his coat. His chest tightened. “The wedding is set for next week. People will be at the church waiting.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. I simply…I…I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

She and those overly serious blue eyes were confessing to being too broken to be part of his life. He’d first come to love her those many years ago because she’d come into his life when he desperately needed someone to cling to, someone who could see his pain and understand it and let him feel it without judgment. She was all he’d ever known and wanted to know. But maybe, just as his brother had accused, the comfort of that certain knowledge made him pompous, unworthy and lazy. Regardless of that one time he stupidly tried to surprise her with a visit by going to New York only to find out she was in Spain.

God knew, he hadn’t even learned to properly bed a woman, because he’d kept telling himself over the years he was saving the entire experience for her. If not for one smirking gamekeeper and one bored whore he’d went to in desperation, he’d know as little as Clementine did about what went on between a man and a woman. And yet, here he thought he could command her and speak to her about sex, marriage, family, love, passion, all the things he thought he wanted—nay, deserved—from life. He had earned nothing. Not a thing. Certainly not her.

He slowly dragged a hand over to hers. He felt the room sway knowing what he needed to do. “Is this what you want? To go to Persia with this man instead?”

She dug her fingers into his arm. “Try to understand it’s best for us.”

It was like realizing his life had never been golden. A suffocating sensation tightened his throat. “Do you trust this Nasser to his word? Do you trust that he will honor and protect you in the way you want?”

“Yes. He has proven his worth. You needn’t worry in that.”

Jealousy bit into him knowing another man was taking what he had always thought was his and only his. It was childish of him to even think it but…it wasn’t fair.

She gently laid her head against his shoulder, the softness of her bundled hair brushing his face. “I will miss our letters. I never told you but I always slept with them.”

His jaw tightened as tears burned his eyes. Having her head tucked against his shoulder and admitting to having slept with his letters whispered of so many possibilities he wished he was capable of cradling. He set a quaking hand against the side of her soft hair, fingering its softness. “I hope you’ll be happy.” He meant it.

She lifted her head, moving away from his hand. “Derek?”

“Yes?”

“You’re an amazing man. I want you to know that. It’s why I came out.”

His breath hitched. He turned his head and paused, realizing how close she was. Their shoulders were touching. Their faces were only inches apart. He searched those stunning and trusting blue eyes that held his. The ones he thought would always be his.

Drifting his hand up toward her face, he brushed the smooth warmth of her skin.

She stilled.

He leaned in closer and whispered, “If I’m so amazing, why do you refuse to be mine?”

Her chest rose and fell. “Because you deserve more than what I have to offer. Even if I did try to make this work, I know that in the end, I would only disappoint you and myself.”

She genuinely seemed to believe what she was saying. He could see it in her face and in her eyes. “Clementine. How can you say that?” He traced his hand down toward her exposed throat and felt his pulse throb against his own ears knowing he was touching her. He brushed the tips of his fingers against the softness of her skin. “We could be happy together if you will it,” he murmured. “I know we could. I adore you. Don’t you feel the same about me?”

She brought her hand up, her hand visibly trembling and grazed her finger across his jaw line. “Don’t make this anymore difficult,” she whispered back. “Please.”

He swayed against that hand, his heart almost skidding up to his head. It was like being seventeen again and letting his mind and body be consumed with senseless yearning. Every half-breath he took was tinged with her perfume, making him yearn for her all the more. He lowered his gaze to her full lips, every nuance of his soul wanting to prove to her that if there was any man capable of dispelling her fears, it was he.

He set his forehead against hers, struggling not to give in to what he wanted. To what he had always wanted. Her. “Give me one night in your arms and I’ll let you go.”

She edged away, her eyes widening. “Derek, I just told you—”

“No child will come of it. I swear. One night and I’ll let you go. I’ll stand before London without regret knowing I held you in my arms. Please. I need something from you other than good-bye. You can’t leave me like this. Not after years of…you can’t…”

“I understand.” Her fingers stilled against his face. “Can you guarantee no child would come of it? If I allowed for it, could you swear to it upon all you are and I know you to be?”

His heart thundered, sensing she was about to give in. “Upon my life and honor, I swear to it. I vow.” He held her gaze. “Come to me. Come to me at night and then I will let you go.” He reached out and watched his own hands skim up her shoulders and up to her soft face. “Haven’t you ever thought of having me in your arms?” Gently nudging her chin upward, so her full lips were positioned just below his own, he edged in, mentally willing her to be his the moment their mouths touched.

A knock came to the door. “Derek?” His mother called out in an exasperated tone from the other side. “Are you in the cigar room?” The knob rattled and the door opened.

They jumped away from each other and scrambled up from their seats, turning.

Derek staggered in an effort to even his breathing.

Lady Banfield casually walked in, her chartreuse morning gown rustling. She paused, her playful dark eyes veering toward Miss Grey. Her nose wrinkled. “Egad. I smell cigars.” She glanced toward the ash pan which held the telling remains of Clementine’s cheroot. She snapped her gaze toward each of them, her eyes widening. “Are you both in here smoking?”

Clementine winced.

Shite. He had to do something. Because God love his mother, she was a terrible gossip. She told everyone more than they needed to know. Be it the vicar or the neighbor.

Derek cleared his throat and did what any gentleman would do. “I desperately needed a cheroot and didn’t want to leave Miss Grey unattended. She was very gracious about it. I wish to apologize for my lack of judgment.”

Clementine swung toward him. “Your lack of—”

“I owe you an apology, Miss Grey.” He gave Clementine a firm, pointed look. “I should have never disrespected you. I thought myself to be a greater gentleman than that. Do you forgive me?”

Clementine gaped.

Lady Banfield strode toward him and stared him down, her pinned graying brown hair practically quivering. “I’m appalled, Derek.” She paused. “Since when do you smoke?”

He’d never been a good liar, but for Clementine’s sake, he did his best to keep his tone even and his stare firm. “Since Andrew and I stopped speaking to each other.”

Lady Banfield’s strained features softened. She sighed. “The fact that you’re smoking concerns me. I don’t know what you and Andrew argued about, for neither of you are willing to tell me about it, but I want you to put an end to it. The boy is living in self-imposed squalor and refuses any assistance I have repeatedly tried to give. When I last visited, there weren’t even any chairs for me to sit on. I’m at a loss as to what he thinks he is doing. He tells me nothing.”

Anger rippled down his spine at what his brother was putting them both through. He wasn’t particularly fond of his mother after she kept his father’s illness from him, but she was still his mother. “I don’t feel sorry for him at all. His blatant disrespect toward both of us is no longer one I wish to reward. This is not what family does to each other and it’s time he grows up. If he needs coal for the bucket, he knows where I am.”

Lady Banfield’s brown eyes pleaded. “You can’t leave this to fester, Derek. Your father would have wanted this resolved.”

There were many things his father would have wanted. Things Andrew had refused to honor after the man’s death. Like how his father would have wanted to see Andrew in the military and rise through the ranks as opposed to being a mere novelist. Like how his father would have wanted to see Andrew associating with men and women who would make him a better man as opposed to associating with men and women who made him into a rebel without a purpose.

Derek shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mother, but I cannot continue to reward him when he acts like an imbecile. If he cannot open the door when I knock on it, how is that my fault?”

Clementine veered closer. She touched his arm. “Derek?”

He stilled at the unexpected touch and lowered his gaze to hers. “What?”

Her blue eyes softened. “You have more than proven that you are kind and compassionate and willing to listen, even when a person may not be worthy of it. Gift that to your brother. Especially if you know he is financially struggling.”

He shifted his jaw, angling toward her. It damn well riled him knowing that she thought she could have
any
say about him or his life when she didn’t even want to be a part of it. “I have not disappointed him. He has disappointed me. I didn’t turn him away. He turned me away. And it reminds all too much of someone else I know.” He held her gaze.

Clementine hesitated and dragged her hand back.

The silence around them pulsed.

Lady Banfield let out a soft breath. “I sent your brother an invitation to the wedding, insisting that he come. It is my hope he will.”

How absolutely fucking fitting. His brother would arrive at the church on Monday to find him without the very bride his brother claimed was all his without having to try.

His mother turned toward Clementine and paused, her dark eyes softening. “Look at you. So perfect and darling.” She beamed. “At long last, I have a daughter of my own.” Whisking toward her, Lady Banfield held out a gloved hand. “I apologize for not being here when you first arrived. I left one of the events early in an attempt to make amends for it.”

Clementine swept forward, her hand grasping his mother’s outstretched hand in mutual greeting. “I am so honored you would leave an event merely for me. You really shouldn’t have.”

Lady Banfield let out a pert laugh, shaking their clasped hands together. “With grandchildren on the horizon, I would leave
any
event for you.”

Derek cringed at the mention of grandchildren.

Clementine’s stare appeared to be plastered.

Lady Banfield took Clementine’s arm into her own, patting her hand. “We should introduce you to the housekeeper and our chef at once. The duties that will face you as the new lady of the house will be staggering. Banfield, I am afraid, is far too popular for his own good and has too many acquaintances, which will mean countless events and nothing but work, work, work. Come along. The sooner we introduce you to your duties, the sooner I can forgo mine.” His mother paused and gave Derek a long pointed look from over her shoulder. “We will leave my son to finish smoking on his own. I’m afraid his antics just lost him the right to see you for the rest of this day. Hopefully, that will teach him to never smoke in your presence again.”

Trying to be a good man in the name of a woman was a bitch.

Clementine glanced back at him as she and Lady Banfield made their way out the door.

Derek held up a quick hand to her, silently informing her to play along.

When they were gone, and their voices were a mere sound one had to strain for, he shifted his jaw, turned, and trudged over to the ash pan where Clementine’s nub of a cheroot had been meticulously extinguished in the center of the small bronze pan. He stared at it and almost touched the rolled end where her lips had been. He pulled on the calling bell hard so the footman could clean it up before he did exactly that.