Chapter 14
What the bloody hell did I get myself into?
At the outset, the plan had been simple. Enter a fake betrothal with some nondescript debutante with a good enough reputation to salvage his own—preferably one that he can control and keep in line—end the said betrothal once Evie had successfully come out in Society, then step back and enjoy the fruits of his farce.
The one error that threw a wrench into his carefully crafted plans? Lady Alice Barkley.
He had thought that she would be biddable. He should have known right from the start that a woman with the audacity to sneak into a man’s estate to pilfer a libertine book would be anything but biddable.
He had thought that blackmail would work. He had thought that enticing her compliance with the book she wanted would get her in line.
Now, he was roiling in the misery of his unfulfilled desires.
He downed the rest of the wine in his glass and set it on a passing footman’s tray before snagging another one.
“Oh dear, if it isn’t the Duke of Thorns himself,” a low, teasing voice sounded from behind him. “You are looking a little frustrated, Your Grace. A pity that your betrothed could not finish what she started…”
He whipped around to find a voluptuous woman in a dress of deep midnight velvet that set off her creamy skin. A heavy necklace of sapphires as large as a baby’s fist was draped around her neck. Her red lips curled into a smile, her blue eyes narrowing as she regarded him the way a panther on a prowl might.
“Lady Pembroke,” he said stiffly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
She laughed, the sound low and husky for a female. “Lady Pembroke? I remember that you used to call me by a different name.”
One that was not appropriate in public.
He had been young, then, and so was she. Unlike Colin, however, Lady Esther Swinton had always known what she wanted, and they both acknowledged that it was something that he could not give her.
“Where is your husband?” he asked her casually, noting the brief flash of anger in her glittering blue eyes. “He does not mind my talking to you?”
“Oh, somewhere in the vicinity, perhaps,” she remarked in a droll tone. Her smile deepened as she stepped closer to him. “And why would it concern you if he does mind your talking to me? I seem to recall how such trivialities never bothered you before.”
Colin grimaced as he subtly twisted away from the lady’s advances, earning him a slight scowl. The past was vastly different from the present. He was no longer interested in anything that she had to offer. In fact, it would only serve as a huge detriment to Evelyn if he was to be found consorting with the wife of the Viscount Pembroke, especially since he was already supposedly enamored with his betrothed.
Lady Pembroke let out a soft sigh, a slight pout beginning to form on her lips as she gave him a look dripping with sham sympathy.
“If you ever need something, anything, that your prude of a betrothed cannot provide,” she purred, inching closer to him, “all you really need to do is ask me, Colin. You know that I can give you what you want. What you truly need.”
Colin grasped the hand that had managed to trail provocatively up his chest and dropped it with a barely restrained look of disgust. “I appreciate your generosity, My Lady, but you cannot even hope to compare to my betrothed.”
He turned around and walked away. There was no point in being gentle or mindful of her feelings if she was going to be persistent to the point of disbelief.
“Colin, wait!” Lady Pembroke clutched at his arm, her eyes pleading with him. “Just… stay a while longer with me, please. You have been in hiding for so long, and I have missed you terribly…”
To shake her arm off would be the height of rudeness. If he had not promised his grandmother and Evie that he would be on his best behavior, then he would have had no qualms at all giving Esther Swinton the most embarrassing cut direct of her entire existence.
“Why don’t we talk just a little more,” she offered him. “As friends.”
Ah… where have I heard that line before?
Colin had seen too much of the world to fall for that.
“I meant to ask you how you have been,” she continued with a smile. “After—you know—that entire affair with your parents…”
Colin clenched his hands into fists and shrugged her hand off his arm. “Fine,” he replied tersely.
This time, he did not give her the opportunity to wrap her talons around him once more. He strode away with a thunderous look on his face, daring anyone else to engage in meaningless conversation with him.
Half a decade ago, he might have considered Esther Swinton’s offer. Hell, he might have even jumped at it.
Now, he felt nothing more than a vague disgust. In fact, the thought of bedding another woman seemed absolutely revolting to him.
Except Alice.
His eyes narrowed as he felt the earlier hunger in the gazebo rear its head. He had thought that a taste of her would be enough to satisfy his curiosity. He never thought it would only increase his craving for more of the same.
More of her.
And that in itself presented a far greater danger than bedding another man’s wife.
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He had to keep his distance from her. There was simply no other way he could ensure her safety and his sanity.
But how was he supposed to do that and keep up appearances of a man enamored with his betrothed at first sight?
Colin groaned inwardly. It was going to be a long month, and he already had the horrid feeling that neither he nor Alice would escape unscathed once it was all over.
* * *
So, that is what a kiss is supposed to feel like…
Alice sat before her mirror in her nightclothes, tracing her lower lip with her finger, a look of confusion on her face. She had thought that it would be a great discomfort, having a man pressing himself against her like that.
Instead, she had felt a thrill, an exhilaration that she had never known was possible.
Her body felt heated and soft all at once. Like she was melting into him, craving more of what he was doing to her.
She remembered what his touch felt like on her skin, searing her. Branding her. How she had wanted to feel it all over her.
She shook her head and buried her face in her arms. She had never had such wanton thoughts before! If her mama was to know of them, she would be appalled.
Even Alice herself was shocked with the direction of her thoughts.
A light knock on her door almost made her jump. She turned her head to see Phoebe in her robe with a lamp in her hand, a concerned look on her pretty face.
“Alice?” she murmured, walking over to her. “Alice, is something amiss? Did the… Did your betrothed do something bad to you?”
Define “bad.”
Alice shook her head as she felt heat creeping up her cheeks once more. “Nothing of the sort,” she croaked.
“Oh.” Phoebe’s face showed great relief. “I was afraid that he was being quite horrid to you, and that, well, you did not know if you should speak about it.”
Alice managed a wry smile. “You know that I would be the last person to keep quiet if someone was being horrid.”
“Well, there is that, too,” her younger sister admitted with a giggle. She clasped Alice’s hand in reassurance. “But if he is being horrid—I am not saying that he is, of course—then you must not hide it from me or from Papa and Mama. They’ll sort him out, you’ll see.”
Alice did not know how her parents could manage to sort out a man like the Duke of Thorns, but she could not tell Phoebe that. Besides, if he ever did need sorting out, she could take care of it herself.
As much as she disliked the idea of being pushed into marriage, she understood that her father only wanted to ensure that her future was secure.
Before it is too late.
“He is rather… roguish, I suppose?” she admitted to Phoebe.
Her younger sister narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean by that?”
Alice shrugged, carefully averting her gaze. “You know… he is a Wolf. And the Duke of Thorns.”
“And a known philanderer?”
“Phoebe!” she exclaimed, shooting her sister an angry glare.
“Well, he was a known philanderer,” her sister hastily amended with an apologetic look. “So, I suppose that old… proclivities die hard. But you know what they also say—reformed rakes make the best husbands.”
Except that I am not exactly marrying him.
“Since we have not really heard of him being up to his, ah, usual pastimes,” Phoebe continued, “he must be reformed.”
“I suppose that counts as a blessing.” Alice sighed.
The thought of Colin with other women was… unsettling.
No—actually, she disliked the thought of him being with another woman, which was quite odd because he was not really her betrothed, and she was not supposed to have those sorts of feelings for him.
Or was she?
The truth of the matter was that Alice had become very, very confused. And that kiss only exacerbated her dilemma regarding Colin and their arrangement and everything else in between.
He does not want to marry me, but he claims that for the entire duration of our “betrothal,” I am his.
Alice frowned to herself. That was just unfair.
And if he intended to constantly circle above her like a hawk, eager to swoop in at a moment’s notice, how was she supposed to find a suitable match for when their farce was over?
“I suppose you might just have to hold him off until the ceremony.” Phoebe giggled, snapping Alice out of her gloomy thoughts. “If not, then you better hope that His Grace has a special license to marry, or Papa will shoot him!”
Alice managed a tremulous smile at her sister’s words. She could not imagine her gentle Papa ever shooting anyone, but if the Duke of Thorns were to disgrace her, he very well might.
She sighed to herself and rubbed her temples. “I suppose I will just have to keep my distance for the length of our courtship,” she told Phoebe.
Her sister nodded. “We must still adhere to etiquette, of course.”
Etiquette. Indeed.
Alice was not quite convinced that a set of rules would be enough to keep Colin Fitzroy at bay. The man had been breaking rules since he was old enough to do so.
No, she had to keep some distance between them, not only because she meant to adhere to propriety but also because she did not exactly trust herself to not lose all sense whenever she was with him.
Twenty-nine more days. All I need to do is make it to the end of the month, and then I will be free from all this madness!
For now, she must do her best to resist him, and the best way to do that was simply to put a barrier between them—be it a chaperone or a piece of furniture.
Even distance.
At this point, anything would do.
It had to, or she would be ruined before she could find a proper gentleman to marry—one who would not aggravate or try to control her at every turn.
But was a proper gentleman going to heat her blood and make her want to abandon all common sense? Probably not.
Much later, when Phoebe had left for her own bedchamber, Alice could not help but mull over the fact that perhaps she might not want a thoroughly “proper” gentleman for a husband.
Perhaps a little mischief would be nice. A bit of a beast in him, so to speak.
But, of course, she mostdefinitely was not considering marrying the Duke of Thorns for real!
Now, that would be complete and utter insanity.