Chapter Seven #2
His forbidding expression softened a little. “As we are to be married, I wondered if you would care to take a drive in my curricle with me? There would be no impropriety in accepting. I have it waiting at the door, if you would like to ask your aunt if you may accompany me.”
How very proper of him. And what a temptation.
She stared. This was not what she’d been expecting.
A ride in a curricle. She’d seen people pass on the street in such vehicles, drawn in the main by two horses but sometimes by only one.
What fun they looked to be, especially to a girl like her who loved horses.
Of course she would like that. What adventurous young woman would not?
But, ask Aunt Josephine’s permission to go?
Why did she have to do that? She wasn’t used to asking anyone’s permission to do anything.
Papa usually did as she told him, unless gambling and drinking were concerned.
A little frown settled between her brows as she realized that being proper was the right way to go now she was a young lady of the ton. “I suppose it would be polite to tell her where I’m going.”
“And inquire if she has no objections.”
There it was again. For some reason he thought her aunt might object.
Oh. Of course. He was a rake, and a well-known one at that.
Would it be a bad thing to go for a drive in a two-person vehicle with a man like him?
Although…Cousin Walter had been busy putting it out that she was engaged to marry Lord Dunster.
So surely anyone who saw them would know, and surely it was permissible for an engaged young lady to take a drive with her husband-to-be?
She could come to no harm in so open a vehicle.
Oh, how she wished she knew more about etiquette.
She might have learned some useful tips about swindlers and habitual gamblers in her time with Papa, but she’d learned nothing from him of how to behave in polite society.
However, asking her aunt seemed to be the polite thing to do as she was at present residing in her household.
She nodded. “I’ll go and ask my aunt.”
When she’d departed, Jonathan leaned back in his seat and stretched both legs out in front of him. Was this what one did when wooing a prospective wife? An affianced wife one did not know, but whom he thought it might be a good idea to get to know. To exert his charms on.
He wasn’t sure. All the wooing he’d done so far had been with one aim in mind—getting the object of his desire into bed.
Although of course, getting Miss Farrington into bed would be a pleasurable side effect of wooing her for marriage.
And he could begin that wooing today, as it seemed fate had decreed that he would have to marry her.
Her prettiness went a long way to softening the blow.
And he really did need an heir to the earldom, so it would please his grandmother, if she could be brought to understand what he’d done.
He dismissed thoughts of what his mother would think.
So wooing, which he was good at, was what he was going to have to do.
After all, his pleasure would be all the greater if he could get her to want him as much as he’d now decided he wanted her.
And having taken a better look at her without his vision being clouded by a haze of alcohol, he’d decided that was definitely his intention.
He would view her as yet another conquest to be made, a mistress to be added to his string of mistresses, but a mistress he would have to keep. Not so hard, surely?
The only thing that obscured his vision of a rosy horizon was the fact that she seemed a trifle…
what was it? Determined. He was used to his women quickly becoming putty in his hands, and succumbing to his undeniable charms without too much effort on his part.
A smoldering look, a suggestive lick of the lips, a roguish smile: All of that usually served to persuade even the most prudish of ladies it would be a good idea to allow themselves to become his latest prey.
And of course, he made it worth their while.
Not for nothing did he have a reputation not just as a rake but also as a lover.
Women fell over themselves to cross his path.
Not mothers of hopeful daughters, obviously, as what they wanted for their daughters were husbands.
But those same mothers were often not averse to offering themselves to him, in order to sample the delights he could provoke in them.
Yes, he felt quite certain he could persuade even this determined young lady to fall at his feet in a swoon of delicious desperation.
After a liquid breakfast, he’d dressed with care, perhaps with an inkling that Miss Farrington might be harder to win over than most. He’d had Arnold arrange his hair to a level of perfection Walter would have approved of, and had been deliberately standing silhouetted against the light from the window when she entered, just so she could see and appreciate, as surely she would, his perfect, manly outline.
For some strange reason she had seemed unmoved by his artifice.
Disappointing. In fact, never had he seen someone left so unmoved by his physical presence.
She must have a heart of stone. Or be short sighted.
Although, her lack of reaction only served to strengthen his resolve to make her want him.
She would fall for his charms, if it were the last thing he did.
It struck as an insult to his masculinity and he couldn’t abide that.
She kept him waiting a long time.
He was just beginning to feel irritated when footsteps sounded and the door opened, framing her elegant figure.
Was that one of the new gowns she’d mentioned?
Why hadn’t he noticed before and remarked on it.
He was getting careless. Commenting on a lady’s attire was one of the ploys he was fond of using, although he preferred them in a state of nakedness and sprawled on his bed in open invitation.
She smiled that gentle smile again, although he had the impression she was no more gentle than Walter’s estimable mama.
“Aunt Josephine has said it is perfectly acceptable for me to go for a drive with you, as you are my betrothed, but that we are not to be above an hour. She says the park will be perfect.”
The park be damned. And the hour. He had no intention of curtailing his ambitions by sticking to public areas.
Besides which, his horses, a pair of real high steppers, were much in need of a good run.
Out along the Bath Road would be perfect for them.
Miss Farrington would not be able to prevent him once he had her aboard, and her aunt would hopefully never know, as by the time they returned he intended Miss Farrington to be putty in his hands.
He bowed his head. “Of course. Allow me to offer you my arm.”
With no hesitation she took his arm and they headed for the front door.
This was going to be fun.