When Seducing A Duke (11 page)

Chapter 9

M
onday evening found Grey in his study, a glass of brandy in his hand, his feet up on an ottoman as he sat in his favorite chair in front of a small fire in the hearth. In his hands he held the latest edition of
Voluptuous,
which he’d had Archer pick up for him. Surprisingly enough—or perhaps not so—this particular copy had come from the backroom of a prestigious bookseller.

Amongst the articles and essays, all of which touted to be directed at the “lady of class and experience” were erotic stories, poems, and advice on men. This advice ranged from how to flirt properly to how to best avoid wrinkling one’s skirts during a public assignation. There was also a page’s worth of instructions on how to give a man oral pleasure in the most satisfactory manner.

The article that most caught his attention, and the one he was currently reading—was titled:
“Coaxing Your Pearl from its Oyster, or A Lady’s Guide to Instructing A Gentleman in the Ways of Her Pleasure.”

It was all about teaching a man to give the most pleasing oral delight. At first Grey thought it a bunch of foolishness, but as he read, he was forced to realize that at least once or twice in his sexual career a lady had made similar suggestions to him, particularly in his younger days when he made up for a lack of finesse with much enthusiasm.

Yet, if the woman, or women, writing this article were to be trusted, there were still things he could learn when it came to pleasing a woman. Since his pleasure in bed hinged almost entirely on his partner’s enjoyment—age and experience had taught him that lesson—it would be in his best interest to continue reading.

Damn, maybe he should simply subscribe.

He was engrossed in a story about an older woman and a younger man satiating their mutual passions on a garden swing when a soft tap on the door interrupted.

And here he was with his rod half-mast like a randy young boy. These “ladies” certainly knew how to paint a vivid picture. He found the feminine perspective on shagging most illuminating—and arousing.

He shoved the magazine underneath the cushion of the chair opposite his. “Come in.”

The door opened with a slight click. He rose to his feet when he saw that it was not a servant but Rose who crossed the threshold. She was dressed in an evening gown of dark plum that pushed up her breasts, cinched her waist, and emphasized the lush curve of her hips. She looked edible—ripe enough to burst with flavor on his tongue.

He’d like to try some of the advice
Voluptuous
offered out on her. But that was hardly the honorable way to feel about a young woman under one’s care. And he tried so very hard to be honorable now. Rose had destroyed that, reminded him of the cad he used to be. The desire he felt for her knew no respect, and therefore he would have to be all the more diligent.

“On your way to the Carlyle’s?” he inquired. This was the evening they were to accompany his family to the card party.

She nodded. How in the name of God did her maid manage to keep all that hair on top of her head? She must have to use an entire box of pins. “Yes. Mama and I are waiting for the dowager and Lord Archer in the rose parlor.” She flinched slightly at the mention of the room where their charade had come to an end. “Do you have a moment?”

“For you? Of course.” He meant it. Whatever his sexual feelings for her, Rose was a very important part of his life. He would always be there for her, even when she was married to a man who didn’t deserve her and didn’t appreciate her willful, indulgent nature.

Not that he deserved her either, but how could he not secretly thrill that she had risked so much to be with him? True, she had manipulated him, but she never would have been able to do that without knowing his weakness to begin with.

As humbling as it was that she knew—or at least had some idea—of how deep his desire for her ran, it was rather freeing as well. He didn’t have to pretend anymore. He merely had to resist. And he would resist. The motivation was standing before him, all dressed up to go out and be part of that living slime called society.

He refused to hold her enthusiasm against her. She was young and didn’t know better. He prayed she never would.

She crossed the carpet, her skirts dragging softly. Each step brought her closer, her scent, her warmth. “I wanted to apologize.”

His gaze lifted from her bosom. He remembered those breasts in his hands. “For what?”

“For deceiving you as I did. I misunderstood the nature of our relationship and behaved like a spoiled little girl. It was a terrible mistake and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

A terrible mistake? A mistake to be sure, but terrible? “There is nothing to forgive,” he replied with a tight smile. “We were both at fault.”

“Yes,” she agreed with a smile of her own. “You are right. Can we be friends again?”

“We never stopped.” At least that much was true. He might have played the fool, might have taken advantage of her, but he never ceased caring for her. He never would.

Rose practically sighed in relief. Grey had to struggle to keep his eyes on her face. “Good. I’m so glad you feel that way. Because I do so want your approval when I find the man I’m going to marry.”

Grey’s lips seized, stuck in a parody of good humor. “The choice is ultimately yours, Rose.”

She waved a gloved hand. “Oh, I know that, but your opinion meant so much to Papa, and since he isn’t here to guide me, I would be so honored if you would accept that burden as well as the others you’ve so obligingly undertaken.”

Help her pick a husband? Was this some kind of cruel joke? What next, did she want his blessing?

She took both of his hands in hers. “I know this is rather premature, but next to Papa you have been the most important man in my life. I wonder…” She bit her top lip. “If you would consider acting in Papa’s stead and giving me away when the time comes?”

He’d sling her over his shoulder and run her all the way to Gretna Green if it meant putting an end to this torture! “I would be honored.” He made the promise because he knew whomever she married wouldn’t allow him to keep it. No man in his right mind would want Grey at his wedding, let along handling his bride.

Was it relief or consternation that lit her lovely face? “Oh, good. I was afraid perhaps you wouldn’t, given your fear of going out into society.”

Grey scowled. Fear? Back to being a coward again was he? “Whatever gave you that notion?”

She looked genuinely perplexed. “Well, the other day Kellan told me how awful your reputation had become before your attack. I assumed your shame over that to be why you avoid going out into public now.”

“You assume wrong.” He’d never spoken to her with such a cold tone in all the years he’d known her. “I had no idea your opinion of me had sunk so low. And as one who has also been bandied about by gossips I would think you would know better than to believe everything you hear, no matter how much you might like the source.”

Now she appeared hurt. Doe-like eyes widened. “My opinion of you is as high as it ever was! I’m simply trying to say that I understand why you choose to hide—”

“You think I’m
hiding?”
A vein in his temple throbbed.

Innocent confusion met his gaze. “Aren’t you?”

“I avoid society because I despise it,” he informed her tightly. “I would have thought you’d know that about me after all these years.”

She smiled sweetly. “I think my recent behavior has proven that I don’t know you that well at all. After all, I obviously did not achieve my goal in seducing you, did I?”

Christ Almighty. The girl knew how to turn his world arse over appetite. “There’s no shame in being embarrassed, Grey. I know you regret the past, and I understand how difficult it would be for you to reenter society with that regret hanging over your head.”

“Rose, I am not embarrassed, and I am not hiding. I shun society because I despise it. I hate the false kindness and the rules and the hypocrisy of it. Do you understand what I am saying? It is because of society that I have this.” He pointed at the side of his face where the ragged scar ran.

For a second he thought she might chuckle, and honest to God he didn’t know what he would do if she did. “Grey, society didn’t give you that scar. A woman you treated with no more regard than your dirty stockings gave you that scar. You cannot blame the actions of one on so many.”

His fingers tightened into fists at his side. “I do not blame all of society for her actions, of course not.”

“How could you? You don’t even know who it was, do you?”

“No.” But he had suspicions. He was almost completely certain it had been Maggie—Lady Devane. He’d broken her heart the worst of them all.

“Of course you don’t.” Suddenly her eyes were very dark and hard. “I suspect it could be one of a large list of names, all women who you toyed with and cast aside.”

A heavy chill settled over Grey’s chest at the note of censure, and disapproval in her tone. He had known this day would come, when she would see him for what he truly was. He just hadn’t expected it quite so soon.

“Yes,” he whispered. “A long list indeed.”

“So it’s no wonder you would rather avoid society. I would too if I had no idea who my enemies were. It’s certainly preferable to apologizing to every conquest and hope that you got the right one.” She didn’t say it meanly, or even mockingly, but there was definitely an edge to her husky voice.

“Is this what we’ve come to, Rose?” he demanded. “You’ve added your name to the list of the women I’ve wronged?”

She laughed then, knocking him even more off guard. “Of course not. I knew what I was getting myself into when I hatched such a foolhardy plan. No, your conscience need not bear the weight of me, Grey.” When she moved to stand directly before him, just inches away, it was all he could do to stand his ground and not prove himself a coward.

Her hand touched his face, the slick satin of her gloves soft against his cheek. “I wish you would stop living under all this regret and rejoin the world,” she told him in a tone laden with sorrow. “You have so much to offer it. I’m sure society would agree with me if you took the chance.”

Before he could engineer a reply, there was another knock at the door. Rose dropped her hand just as her mother stuck her head into the room.

“Ah, there you are. Good evening, Grey. Rose, Lord Archer is here.”

Rose smiled. “I’ll be right there, Mama.” When the door closed once more, she turned to Grey. “Let us put an end to this disagreeable conversation and put it in the past where it belongs. Friends?”

Grey looked down at her hand, extended like a man’s. He didn’t want to take it. In fact, he wanted to tell her what she could do with her offer of friendship and barely veiled insults. He wanted to crush her against his chest and kiss her until her knees buckled and her superior attitude melted away to pleas of passion. That was what he wanted.

She knew how to play him so very well.

He slipped his hand around hers. “Friends,” he repeated roughly.

Her smile was bright enough to light up the room—and make him see stars. “Excellent! I’m so pleased. And now I really should go. I don’t want to keep your family waiting.”

His family. She was going out with his family. His mother and sister, who would no doubt think her absolutely perfect.

Perfect for Archer, who his mother was determined to see married, now that she had given up all hopes for Grey. Or perhaps they’d want her for Trystan, although he was still living the life of an adventurous young man.

“Have fun,” he encouraged with all the false enthusiasm he could muster.

She flashed a quick grin at him over her shoulder as she made for the door. “I’m sure I will. Your brother will see to that.”

As far as parting shots went, it wasn’t bad. By no means mortal, but deep enough to wound never the less.

Alone once more, Grey returned to his chair and pulled the copy of
Voluptuous
out from underneath the cushion of the other. He stared at it for a moment, contemplating finishing the article on pleasing a woman orally.

And then, with a snarl, he flung the pages into the fire, watching ash and embers fly up in the assault. The paper caught quickly, giving off a sudden bloom of heat.

Women,
he thought as he watched the magazine’s mocking text blacken and char.

He would be much happier in his misery without them.

It was a dangerous game she played. One that could easily end in more heartache. And yet, Rose couldn’t stop herself, even though she’d all but given up hoping that Grey could ever love her.

She was hurt, embarrassed, and yet still determined. Her pride was wounded but not destroyed, and she was more than willing to put it aside to renew her efforts to bring Grey to his senses, to make him see that he was merely existing rather than living.

If that meant insulting him to make him see the truth, then she would, but she had to be careful that she didn’t make him despise her in the process. Right now, with feelings between them as they were, that could happen far too easily.

And just as easily, she could come to despise him as well.

She should just accept defeat and move on, but she couldn’t. Grey cared for her, and she lo…cared about him. In their world that was a rare thing, a wonderful thing. Shouldn’t they give their feelings a chance? Instead, Grey withdrew from her. He could probably give her a hundred different reasons why they couldn’t be together and yet not one of them would be the true one.

That he was afraid. Not so much of her, but of what life with her would mean for him.

“You are very quiet,” Archer remarked as they walked together to the refreshment table. They’d just finished a game of whist and when Rose begged off from a second round, Grey’s brother did the same.

“My apologies,” she replied. “I do not mean to be rude.”

“My brother doesn’t deserve to take up so much room in that lovely head of yours.”

She might have been insulted by his disparaging Grey, or his familiarity with her, had she not been so surprised by the remark itself.

“You are impertinent, sir.”

He grinned—a grin so much more roguish than Grey’s. “One of my more charming traits. I did not mean offense, dear lady. Only that thinking about him will do you no good. The man is bent on punishing himself for the rest of his life.”

Rose accepted the plate he offered her. “Thank you. Why would he wish to punish himself?”

“Because he’s an ar…idiot. Sandwich?” He held up a cucumber sandwich caught in silver tongs.

“Please. I’m not certain I wish to discuss your brother with you, Lord Archer.”

“Not even if I can help you win him?”

Rose’s heart froze—no, it simply stopped. Her entire body went numb. She would have dropped her plate had Archer not swept it from her hand into his own.

“What makes you think I wish to
win
him?”

He flashed her a coy glance. “Please, Lady Rose. I’ve not made a career out of studying your sex to fall for your false innocence now.”

Oh dear God. Had Grey told him?

“I’ve seen the way you look at him, and I’ve had to put up with hearing about you for the last four years—no offense.”

Rose arched a brow as he piled food upon her plate. “None taken. I wasn’t aware that I looked at your brother in a manner different from how I might look upon anyone else.”

“Mm.” He popped a small cake into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “That’s just it. You try too hard to treat him like everyone else. It’s obvious you care for him, and not just as the man who saved your life.”

“Saved my life? How very dramatic.”

He gave her a very serious look as he handed her the laden plate. “Where do you suppose you’d be right now if Grey hadn’t taken you in? Certainly not here, with such good food and charming company.”

Point taken. And now she felt simply awful for the way she had spoken to Grey earlier. She was such a cow.

“You shame me, sir.” And worse, he’d made tears come to her eyes. Staring at her food—such a wonderful array he’d picked for her—she blinked them away.

He steered her toward a window seat where they sat in plain view of the room, but at least with a modicum of privacy. “My apologies, my lady. I did not mean to offend you with my plain and thoughtless words.”

“Plain, perhaps. Thoughtless, I highly doubt it.” She managed a small smile. “I don’t think you do anything without thinking first.”

Archer laughed, looking so much like Grey it hurt to look at him. “Were that but true. But I do apologize all the same.”

“And I appreciate it. But you are right. I certainly would not be here were it not for your brother’s generosity.” She picked up a cake and took a bite, ignoring the sandwiches. At times like this, a woman wanted cake. Needed cake. Obviously Lord Archer knew this because most of her plate was covered with tiny frosted squares. Perhaps he truly had made a study of women as he’d claimed.

“And His Grace might not be in this world had it not been for you and your father.” The words were softly spoken, but the lump that formed in Rose’s throat was hard as rock. She swallowed, letting the sweet cake ease it.

She tried not to think of that night very often. How her father had brought Grey to their home because it was closer. She’d met them at the door, having heard the commotion as she lay in bed reading. Her mother had been slower to rouse, and so it had fallen to Rose to help staunch the blood while her father ran for a surgeon. He hadn’t trusted a servant to do it, but he’d trusted her to take care of Grey. And she had. She kept pressure on the wound, and sat with him, holding his hand as the physician stitched it. For the next two days until Grey went home, she nursed him. She took care of him, even though her father told her it wasn’t proper.

Secretly, Rose thought her father rather proud of her at that moment, for keeping her composure. He didn’t know that she had sobbed herself to sleep over it. Or how she had prayed to God her thanks in sparing Grey’s life.

“We merely called for the surgeon,” she remarked absently. “Your brother was the one who fought so valiantly.”

Archer’s smile was wry, and a little rueful. “My brother was the one who got himself into that mess in the first place.”

Her jaw tightened. “No one deserves that kind of brutality, certainly not from a coward who gets others to do her dirty work.”

He pointed a long, discreet finger at something across the room. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, or some such rot.”

Rose followed that accusing finger, and her gaze fell upon Lady Devane. “Are you certain?” she asked, returning her attention to her companion before the lady in question’s curiosity could be piqued.

“As I can be,” came the brusque reply. “That is what you have to compete with, my lady. The poison she injected is far more infectious and vile than the actual wound ever was. And the guilt he has taken upon himself is a far heavier load than your slender shoulders can bear.”

She toyed with another cake, but couldn’t seem to put it in her mouth. “So it is hopeless. Is that what you are saying?”

Archer smiled. “Nothing is hopeless, but if he means enough to you that you are willing to put up with him, then I will do what I can to help you.”

“Why would you do that?” She took a nibble of delicious frosting as her heart thudded hard in her chest. “You don’t even know me.”

But what if he could help her convince Grey to rejoin the world?

He raised a cake of his own, the frosting stark white against the tan of his fingers. “Because you are the only woman with the exception of my mother and sister who knows my brother intimately and for some reason still likes him. That’s good enough for me. Now, eat some of that cake I was kind enough to fetch you. I wouldn’t want you to tell Grey I was a poor companion.”

Rose’s smile caught on her lips. “Are you suggesting I use you to make your brother jealous?”

Archer laughed. “My dear girl, it will take better men than me to drive Grey to action.” His expression turned positively rakish. “But I’m as good a place to start as any.”