Two Wrongs Make a Marriage (21 page)

And more profound, argued the imaginary Lord Kenton. Taking a wife was the first step in the founding of a dynasty. It meant the continuation of a line. It was also the beginning of a future with the woman he loved.

Jack sat bolt upright in bed, dumping the sleeping woman off his shoulder and startling her awake. ‘What?’ she said, rubbing at her eyes.

‘Nothing. Nothing at all. I had a dream. Nothing more.’

‘A pleasant dream?’ she said with a smile. ‘I would hate to think that last night was the stuff of nightmares for you.’

‘It was nice,’ he admitted cautiously. ‘But the ending took a surprising turn. It woke me.’

She was toying with the hair on his chest now and it tickled. Kenton was easing him back down to the mattress, preparing to let the woman do what she would with him. Jack was fine with that. Or rather, he ought to be fine. Hadn’t he wanted to lie with the wench from the first moment he saw her? And hadn’t it been as good as he’d hoped? He’d had her three times last night. He should take advantage of the situation and have her again before she remembered how much she hated him.

Instead, he felt guilty.

He caught her hand, which had begun a journey toward his privates. ‘If you keep on as you are going, you will wake me in other ways.’

‘Would that be such a bad thing?’ She was biting her lower lip in a way that made it almost impossible to refuse, looking up at him with naked emotion, her eyes wide green pools of expectation. Dear God, he knew that she was no actress, which meant the love he saw on her face was real. What was he to do with it? He did not want it. It was an unnecessary complication that would make it that much harder to get away when the time came to leave.

And if there was any such answering emotion on his face...

He wished he could look in a mirror to check. He could not afford to fall in love, not with the end so near. What would it mean for either of them but frustration and disappointment? He buried his emotions to the best of his ability, thinking hard, cold thoughts, smothering affection beneath a false front. ‘We have work to do, and cannot spend the day in bed. Tonight, perhaps, if you are still in the mood for a frolic, we will open another bottle and I will quote some more Shakespeare. That works every time with the ladies. And last night, it certainly worked on you.’

Her hand dropped away from his body, and he felt the absence like a sudden cold shock. ‘Shakespeare does the trick, does it?’ Her face, which had been soft, blurred by passion, seemed to sharpen into something hard and distant.

‘Every time.’ He forced a randy smile and felt his stomach tighten. ‘Now that you have some experience, we need not waste time with romance. I can quote some passages that will put you in the mood right quick. Old Will is wicked when he has a mind to be.’

‘Then I will have to guard against Shakespeare and against you. Last night was interesting. But I see no need to repeat it, if it’s left you thinking I am as easily swayed as a Covent Garden whore.’ She turned from him and swung her legs towards the edge of the bed, presenting a nicely curved bottom as the sheet fell away.

To add emphasis to his dismissal, he swatted her on it and saw her flinch. It was a crass gesture, especially for a gently bred woman who had been a virgin until he’d taken her maidenhead. He wanted to reach out, pull her back to him and assure her that it had been a mistake. Instead he said, ‘Oh, my dear, never think that you were easy to bed. It has taken me weeks to win you. But it was well worth the wait.’

‘If you think you flatter me by saying that, you are sorely mistaken.’ With each word, each breath, she was returning to the aloof beauty that he had seen since their wedding day.

And the portion of him that should be relieved to be free of her was growing smaller, replaced by the Jack who wanted to apologise to his dear, sweet wife for hurting her and Kenton, who was both disgusted and appalled at the behaviour of this interloper in his life and his bed. And all Jack’s carefully memorised speeches failed him, the words sticking in his dry mouth.

When she turned to face him, Thea’s facade was carefully back in place, the only sort of acting that was allowed to virtuous young ladies, he assumed. She had been taught to hide her hurt and to cut the attacker dead with impeccable manners. She was staring at him like some curiosity, displayed under glass for the amusement of an audience. ‘Well, don’t lie there gaping at me. If we mean to succeed against de Warde, I assume we will have to get out of bed to do it.’ She put a hand on her hip. ‘I could stay here, I suppose. Throw my skirts over my head and trap him myself, just as I caught you. But I have made it clear often enough how distasteful that would be.’ There was something about the way that she said it that implied lying down with de Warde was a slightly less unattractive prospect than another night with Jack.

He swung his legs off the opposite side of the bed, turning away from her as he should have done from the first, and yanked on the bell pull to call her maid. ‘I think we can manage to spare you that. And if my company bothers you, I will keep my Shakespeare to myself as well.’

But he did not want to. He wanted to butter her with the words, to make her sigh over them, melting in his arms. She had been everything he’d wanted in life and everything he’d dreamed of when he’d first seen her. Now it seemed that their only night together would be a lone culmination, against which all future nights would be measured.

Until he could find someone better, of course. The lovely Cyn was not the only woman in the world. He had but to remind himself of the fact. Once he was away from here and back to being Jack Briggs, he would make a concerted effort to keep his bed full and his nights busy. He would forget her. There could be no good in remembering.

He returned to his room, where his valet was waiting with a robe and a basin, ready to see him washed, shaved and refreshed for the day ahead.

* * *

When the butler came to tell him that de Warde was below and had once again asked specifically for Lady Kenton, he was hardly surprised. It would be far more difficult to make the man forget his lust for Thea than it was to inflame him by denying access to her.

He went down to the morning room where the toad had been left to wait, preparing Kenton’s set downs as he walked. What had he said to Thea the previous evening about protecting her? It had been the only true lie of the evening, for she would be forced into this man’s company at least once more before his plan was at an end.

Let Kenton sorrow over it if he must. Jack Briggs reminded himself firmly that his first responsibility lay to the earl and that did not include keeping Thea Banester in a protective bubble, untouched and untroubled.

When he entered the room, de Warde looked up, clearly annoyed that he was not seeing the person he’d expected.

‘Uncle de Warde,’ Jack said, equally annoyed.

‘Is your wife not at home?’ de Warde asked, not bothering with a greeting.

‘Not to you, she is not,’ Jack replied, staring at the man expectantly. ‘I will relay any message for you.’

‘I merely wished to discuss the scene I witnessed yesterday,’ de Warde responded.

‘Scene?’ Jack said, arching his eyebrow. ‘You intruded on personal family business, and now you wish to question her about it?’

‘I am family as well,’ de Warde reminded him.

‘But hardly close family,’ Jack said. ‘I am unsure of the reasons for it, but my father refuses to speak to you at all. And I do not appreciate your excessive interest in my wife.’

‘I am not interested in her, so much as the location of the statue that I sold to her father,’ de Warde said. Watching him now, Jack was unsure how he had managed to trick Banester. The man was not a particularly skilled liar, his eye fairly twitching at each mention of Thea. But he wanted the idol, as well, even if he thought it a worthless piece of stone.

‘If you wished to use it yourself, you never should have sold it to Banester,’ Jack said. ‘You could at least have taken the time to learn the way of it. The thing you had was quite useless. You extorted a great deal of money from my wife’s family and it is only through good luck and my timely arrival that things have come right for them again.’

‘You cannot honestly expect me to believe...’ de Warde was laughing at him. It was hardly a surprise, for the thing he suggested was laughable to any sane man.

Jack gave a dismissive gesture of his hand. ‘I do not expect you to believe anything, Uncle. As a matter of fact, I would much prefer you didn’t. Thea is quicker to forgive than I am. Do not think that you can try the same with her, gaining the thing again only to sell it back to us.’ He turned as if to go.

‘Wait.’ De Warde said it sharply and Jack brought himself up short, then turned slowly with a slight sigh, as though he were tired of being bothered.

‘So it is true that Lady Banester is with child?’

Jack looked down his nose at his
faux
uncle. ‘That is a secret I have no right to reveal. You have spoken to the woman yourself. If you do not wish to believe her, it is no business of mine.’

‘Then is it true that you believe in the power of the statue...’

‘Statues,’ Jack corrected, as though the detail mattered.

‘...and that you have convinced her that the child will be male?’

‘I see no reason to share my beliefs on such a subject with you,’ Jack said, turning again. ‘They are no concern of yours.’

‘Lady Banester seemed convinced that you would buy the things for yourself and use them to guarantee an heir.’

Jack turned back suddenly. ‘Now I see why you are interested. Concerned about your own place in the succession, are you? Then let me assure you of one thing. You will never have my father’s title. I am seeing to that myself and you will soon have two men standing between you and it. You had best learn to consider yourself fourth in line for the coronet and stop bothering me. I must speak to my wife’s mother about being too free with information that I do not feel the need to share. But I have nothing more to say to you on the subject. Good day to you, sir.’

He exited the room with a slam of the door, startling the butler who waited nervously in the hall, then attempting to put the servant at ease again with a smile. ‘Wait a few moments, Graves, and then show my uncle out.’

‘If I may be so bold, my lord, as to offer advice?’

As if such a polite request was an act of bravery. ‘Of course, Graves.’

‘If the gentleman is bothering you, or Lady Kenton, there is no reason to allow him entrance to the house. If instructed, the staff will turn him away on his next visit.’

‘Perhaps on the visit after next, Graves. But for a day, or maybe two, my uncle must be allowed access. The next time he comes, even if I am not present, bring him to the salon and notify Lady Kenton of his presence.’

‘Very good, my lord.’ Graves’s expression said his opinion was quite the opposite of his words, but then he knew better than to express an opinion of his own to the master’s face. Jack had no fear of opposition.

Chapter Seventeen

T
hea wished that she could gather everyone who had ever advised her and demand that they sort out the muddle she had made of her life. Miss Pennyworth would have explained that it was her own fault for yielding, even for a moment, to a man who didn’t deserve her time. Of course, standing firm would have lost what little good had come from this. The previous night had been a delight.

Spayne would likely have explained that brief pleasure was better than none. And her mother would have asked for details. The pair of them would likely have encouraged her to forgive Jack for being as he was and remind her that one must take the good with the bad.

Even if that was true, he’d had no reason to lie to her. He had treated her like any common woman, who needed to be tricked into bed with shiny speeches. Could he not have just put it plainly, in terms of physical attraction and release? Was it necessary for him to make her believe so completely in the strength of his love?

She was angry at herself for being fooled. But more than that, she was angry at him for spoiling things, just as she had been ready to give in without question to hedonistic joy. She had thought that they would linger in bed for the morning, repeating what they had done. Perhaps he would whisper the details of his plans against de Warde, which she was sure would sound much more brilliant if explained while prone, naked and exhausted.

Instead she had sent him away and spent the day sulking in her rooms, writing letters and dreading the time when she would have to see him again and pretend that she was not hurt. Polly told her that there had been a visit from de Warde, and that Lord Kenton had sent him off with a flea in his ear. Thea had no idea whether that had been planned, or just a mad impulse on Jack’s part.

And now they were at supper and he was looking at her over the table, saying nothing of importance about it and acting as if none of the morning’s conversation had happened, as though they were somehow still lovers. ‘You are most fetching tonight, my dear.’

‘Please, spare me your compliments,’ she responded, prodding at the sole on her plate.

‘No false flattery, I assure you. Brown satin would be a drab on any other woman, but on you the colour comes alive.’

‘Then perhaps I should change it,’ she said.

He laughed. ‘You mean to be contrary?’

‘After last night, I would not believe you if you told me the sky was blue and the sun high at noon.’

He gave a surprised look. ‘And I would have sworn that you quite enjoyed what we were doing.’

‘The act itself was as pleasant as you promised,’ she agreed. ‘But I regret my choice of partners.’

For a moment, she thought she might have actually hurt him. The flinch he gave at the words seemed almost genuine. ‘Better luck to you next time, then. Unless you would like to sport again tonight? I promise, you will find it just as nice as last night. I have other tricks to teach you before we are done with each other.’

And why must it be tricks? Why could he not have offered her anything real? Because he was an actor, of course. How foolish had she been to expect anything else? He had played the lover to get what he wanted. And now he could not be bothered. She glared at him and said nothing.