A Virgin for the Rakish Marquess (In War and Love #3)

Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

Business Plan

T wo days. Two days since they made the cold marble of the gazebo almost catch fire. Two days since he had kissed her until she trembled, two days since he had touched her until her knees gave out.

Of all the things he wanted to do those two days, being Lord Crawford was not one of them. He wanted to be James, to hear her gasp his name like a plea. He wanted to teach her how to sway with his touch, how to enjoy the pleasure he can bring her.

Instead, he had to take care of things that held no appeal and perform duties that were not at all pleasant. Luckily, his next meeting was not that much of a burden.

James had a very low tolerance for fools and was glad to admit that Herbert Wilkins was not one. That was the main reason he decided to take the man up on his offer to start a new business. It was refreshing to see a man who didn’t waste his pocket money but wished to make something of his own.

So, when he agreed to meet him at his bachelor lodgings, James expected whiskey and cigars and some manly talk over economy, politics, and women.

The last thing he was expecting was her .

The moment he stepped into the townhouse, his attention was immediately drawn to her. The rest of the house was as he expected it to be—the lodgings of an eternal bachelor, all masculine lines and empty spaces. Yet, her presence filled the room in a soft, light way.

She was sitting in a comfortable armchair near the window, and the afternoon light softened her features, her black hair capturing the light with the shades of the rainbow.

Wait. Why am I noticing her hair?

“Lord Crawford.” Herbert got up to greet him. “How great to have you here.”

James struggled to keep his focus on the man, but it was proving to be a losing game. Luckily, He did notice in time that Herbert had extended his hand toward him. He took it, firm and sure, but his gaze betrayed him, flicking back to Diana.

She was looking at him, genuinely pleased to see him. And that… that threw him off more than it should have.

Sure, women were mostly happy to see him. Well, desired him, to be more accurate. And if he were being brutally honest, they desired the version of him he wanted them to see.

But Diana… Diana was truly happy to see him. A smile played on her lips—a smile that reached her green eyes. She got up with the grace of a queen, and he suddenly got tunnel vision.

“You know my sister, Diana,” Herbert offered.

Intimately .

James’s eyes darkened as they roved over her body. Diana coughed and bowed politely. The look in her eyes had turned into a reprimand laced with a warning.

“Ah, of course. Lady Diana, what a surprise to see you here.”

“A pleasant one, I hope,” she returned with that innocent smile of hers.

James felt alive. Truly alive. Animated and at ease.

“It is always a pleasure to be in your company, Lady Diana,” he said mischievously. But then he added earnestly, “A real pleasure.”

It was probably enough for Diana, who nodded in understanding. The teasing was over. He came in peace.

It was just as well, for James realized that her brother was right there while they exchanged innuendos and was studying them.

Since James had already concluded that Herbert was not a fool, the best course of action was to dampen the fire that raged inside him.

Herbert showed him to the living room, and James fought the temptation to take the seat right next to Diana. He did the next best thing as he made himself comfortable in an armchair that offered him a splendid view of her.

“I hope I am not interrupting some family matter,” he said.

“You are, but you have my eternal gratitude,” Herbert replied with an amused smile. “I understand that you are an only child?”

“That is correct.”

“Truly blessed, then.” Diana beat her brother to it.

The two siblings exchanged a glare that dripped with hate on the surface but spoke of unconditional love. If only James had siblings to share his loneliness with…

“Ah, blessed, indeed, Lord Crawford, to have quiet afternoons to yourself without impromptu visits regarding your well-being,” Herbert sighed.

“I asked you once— once —if you were eating properly, and you acted as if I had dragged you to the gallows,” Diana protested.

“That’s because your concern sounded more like an interrogation.”

“I was thorough.”

“Counting my bites?”

“I should let you starve, then.”

“I am capable of feeding myself.”

James let out a low laugh, watching them with an amused glint in his eyes.

“At least my suffering brings some amusement to Lord Crawford.”

“Because other than that, you are not amusing at all,” Diana hissed.

“I see now why you’ve developed such sharp wit, Wilkins.” James chuckled. “A man does not grow up with Lady Diana as a sister and survive without learning some form of self-defense.”

“I might need a moment to decide whether to be offended or flattered, My Lord,” Diana said.

Both men smiled at her boldness and looked at each other with shared admiration.

“I am glad I came by to offer some assistance, Wilkins.” James smirked.

“Treason!” Diana huffed, feigning annoyance. “I thought I had gained an ally.”

“You did,” James assured her smoothly. “But, My Lady, I am merely playing fair. You outmatch your brother so effortlessly, I felt some mercy was warranted.”

“I know it might cost me financially,” Herbert teased, “but I withdraw my invitation.”

“A grave punishment for simply stating the truth.” James smiled. “I am sure you are only jesting.”

“I must admit I am merely joking. If someone were to be banished for such a trivial matter, my dear sister would have been permanently exiled long ago.”

Diana’s expression was soft, though she was trying to summon a not-so-convincing glare. It was her eyes that betrayed her. Those green eyes that sparkled with delight. The same eyes James had seen so full of ire. And melting longing. Now, they were shining with… love.

She loved her brother.

“To have Lady Diana in exile would have been a terrible loss to the world.” James cast a glance at her.

There was something in his voice that made her turn to him. He heard it, too.

“That almost sounded sincere,” she noted.

“I am capable of being sincere, My Lady.”

She tilted her head and regarded him seriously, assessing and measuring him. As if she had uncovered something she wasn’t expecting.

James didn’t like it at all. Or he rather hated that he liked it.

“So, Lord Crawford,” Herbert cut in. “Let’s talk numbers.”

James was equal parts relieved and annoyed that Herbert changed the subject.

Diana smiled and got up. “Since I have concluded that my brother remains the same brute he has always been, I shall leave you to it.”

Herbert jumped up and took his sister in his arms, before placing a kiss on her cheek. James ached to touch her too, to give her more than just a peck. He did the next best thing.

He bowed and grabbed her hand.

“Are you attending the Ashford ball, My Lady?”

His question was genuine and also gave him an excuse to hold onto her hand a little bit longer.

“I shall endeavor to be in attendance, My Lord.”

“I will see you there, then.” He smiled roguishly and finally brushed his lips over the thin fabric of her gloves.

After he left Herbert’s much later, James contemplated spending his evening in his club. But he already had a few drinks with the young man, and the conversation was so rich and smooth that he felt sated.

And after seeing Diana, he could barely focus on anything else other than the Ashford ball. Where he would see her again. Sure, they agreed that the lessons were to be conducted during promenades, but he was certain he could get her to bend the rules for him.

Rules, he had found, were often more of a suggestion than a hard limit. He could persuade her. He would persuade her.

So, James ended up back in his study, buried in financial reports. Investments and accounts, ledgers upon ledgers filled with numbers. It sounded boring, but he was used to it from a very young age. In addition, he found solace in the certainty of numbers. There was no room for desire when one added or subtracted. And at the top of that pile was a detailed proposal by Herbert.

“One should have all his agreements in writing…”

Her voice echoed in his head. He smiled to himself. He was mad when he picked her up for their second promenade. He was furious about what his father said and livid with himself that he allowed his father to affect him so much. It was her banter, her wit, and her determination that brought the heat back to his body.

More than heat.

A knock at the door brought him back to reality.

“James?”

It was his grandmother, and it was way past the time she retired to her bed. This meant that something was going on.

He got up and opened the door. He smiled at her and led her inside, pulling a chair to the fireplace. He rang for tea, since he knew her too well.

“Is anything amiss, Grandmother?”

“Could it be that I merely wanted to see my favorite grandson?”

“I am your only grandson.”

“Details.” Euphemia made herself comfortable.

James sat across from her and studied her. He let his body relax on the soft chair and stretched out his long legs in front of him.

She was nervous, and he was ready to alleviate her stress when another knock sounded at the door and a servant bearing a tea tray walked in.

James sprang into action and served his grandmother, who watched him with a mix of pride, love and guilt.

Whatever she was here for was going to spoil his mood, and she wasn’t in a hurry. He grabbed the decanter and poured himself a measure of whiskey. He would need alcohol to face whatever brought Euphemia Bolton to his study at this hour.

They drank quietly for a while, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.

“So, Grandmother.” He smiled. “What it is you wanted to tell me?”

Euphemia looked at him over her cup. James nodded. They had an understanding.

“Your father wants to re-enter Society.”

James downed his drink.

“Lord Ashford is an old friend of his, and when he found out he was back in London, he extended a personal invitation to Solomon for the ball.”

“And he thinks it’s a good idea to accept it?”

James’s voice was icy, and Euphemia was not going to pretend that she didn’t hear the strain in it.

“It would be good for him to get back to normal.”

“Normal?” James chuckled. “I think we have all forgotten what normal is.”

“You are being cruel, my boy.”

James tapped his fingers on his glass once before he set it down with deliberate care. His grandmother’s words hung in the air between them, thick and heavy, pressing against something deep in his chest that he had no desire to examine.

“No less cruel than what was done to me,” he said sharply.

Again, the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire.

“What happened was indeed cruel, James,” his grandmother acknowledged in a soft voice. “You lost the woman you loved most, a mother who was a rare jewel, one who truly and deeply loved you and your father.”

James got up and refilled his glass. It’d been years, but the pain flared anew each time memories of his mother flooded him. He was three-and-ten when she died. He had full recollections of her, all of them fond and soft and warm. There were times when he wished he had never met his mother, when he wished he had lost her younger, but his memories of her were the most precious thing in his life.

“But to lose your father on top of that…” Euphemia trailed off.

“I didn’t lose him.” James stood up and started pacing to tamp down his anger. “He chose to abandon me.”

“James.” His grandmother looked at him with tearful eyes. “You are not the only one who lost her.”

“I was a boy!”

Euphemia leaned back. Not out of fear, but resignation to the truth of his words.

“I am not asking you to forgive him. That is between him and you. But he wants to go to the ball, James. But we all know he might not be ready for that. The ton can be?—”

“Cruel?” James cut in, conveying that he hadn’t forgotten about her accusation.

“Yes. Cruel. He will never ask this of you, but I know he will feel better if you are there.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

Euphemia sighed in that way women sigh when faced with stubborn men.

“You are entitled to your opinion. Fine.” She got up. “What if I ask you to do it?”

James turned to his grandmother, a smirk on his lips. He knew exactly what she was doing. She was already asking him to do it.

She cupped his face in her frail, soft hands.

“You ask the impossible of me.”

Her smile was soft. “And yet you will do it.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “You have an extraordinary amount of faith in me, Grandmother.”

“You have yet to disappoint me.”

James closed his eyes for a brief moment, inhaling deeply before releasing a slow, measured breath.

“I’d hate to start disappointing you now,” he relented. “I will escort him to the Ashford ball, Grandmother. Do not worry.”

Euphemia gave a warm smile.

“But,” he added, his tone sharp, “if he shows any sign that he is going back to what made him the talk of the ton, I will not tolerate it.”

“I understand.” His grandmother did, in fact, understand. “Thank you, James. You are a good boy.”

She turned and walked out of the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.