Chapter Fifteen #2
His expression was almost pleading. And she hadn’t even demanded he beg this time.
Her cheeks heated.
How had she tumbled into this situation?
Wednesday night, he’d been lounging in an upper room in the Lyon’s Den—naked—giving shameless lessons in seduction to a woman he had never met and couldn’t see.
Now, without knowing, he was chagrined and pleading with the same woman to join him in a sham courtship to improve his reputation for his sister’s sake.
“I am sorry,” she said sincerely. “I must decline to participate.”
“Why?”
She wet her lips. “I am considering another’s offer of marriage.”
She’d surprised him. Good.
“Please accept my felicitations,” he replied. “Or should I direct them to your betrothed? Or to your godmother?”
Damn her tongue. “I haven’t yet informed Lady Asquith.”
“Ah. A secret engagement?”
“Not engagement. An offer.”
“And you’ve left the poor fellow in suspense? How very shocking, Miss Wainwright.”
“My marital intentions are none of your concern.” She faced the stage before continuing in an acidic voice, “Thank you for pointing out that Harbury has no interest in Cassandra. I don’t know why you’d think I could have any interest in you.”
“Well, then.” He uncrossed his legs and shifted his position. “Pardon my impertinence.”
After such an urgent proposition, she hadn’t expected him to give up so easily. Covertly, she considered his expression. His lips had flattened. Patches of color sat high on his cheeks.
She’d made him furious. Why?
“You’re correct, of course.” He turned his head sharply. “I’ve little to offer but a legacy of disgrace.”
The bitterness in his tone gave her a start. “I—”
She stopped abruptly and then closed her mouth. She’d no need to appease him.
She wasn’t interested in a closer acquaintance, nor a sham courtship.
On the other hand, she hadn’t wanted to hurt him. She’d simply wanted to show him how insulting he’d been. She knew nothing of a legacy of disgrace.
In fact, she knew very little about him at all.
“I believe,” she drew out her words, “you have mistaken my intent.”
“Please,” he replied dismissively. “Don’t insult me by insinuating you are unaware of my family history.”
She thought back, recalling everything she’d learned about him.
He rarely attended parties. He never danced. He made silly young women sigh and shiver. He shared a relationship with Harbury more akin to brothers than friends. And, before the other day, she’d never seen him on Rotten Row.
That was it. The sum of what she knew about the Marquess of Redver.
If she didn’t include what he looked like without his clothing. Or the skill he possessed in bed. Or the way his mere presence made her want to create a small world where only the two of them existed.
“It just so happens”—her words tumbled out in a hot rush—“I am unaware of your family history. No one ever tells young ladies anything of importance.”
Warily, they eyed one another. Slowly, his expression relaxed. She could read arguments and counterarguments behind his eyes but could not discern their substance.
“Search Lady Asquith’s library for gossip rags from 1803,” he said finally. “The D’Acre divorce was, for a time, a frequent feature.”
Divorce?
The very word left her chilled. She had to consciously shut her mouth.
No wonder Lady Asquith had said that Redver!
A divorce required an act of Parliament.
Not all petitions were successful, and those that were often followed a crim.
con lawsuit proving infidelity. She calculated the years.
1803 would have been just after Emily’s birth.
At the time, Redver would have been a on the verge of manhood, but still a boy.
Oh, no.
Eliza tried in vain to stop the surge of sympathy. She was already too intrigued by him. She certainly didn’t want to feel for him.
But how could she judge him based on his parents’ scandalous acts when her own father’s behavior made her shudder?
Poor Miss D’Acre!
Now she understood his urgency.
What had he said? Recent events had proven he’d fallen short? What recent events? Their encounter at the Lyon’s Den and her subsequent rejection?
Mrs. Dove-Lyon had said she wanted to teach him a lesson.
“You were right.” She softened her voice. “I do have better cause than most to understand your position.”
After all, she was considering a marriage of convenience to save her sister. Was a courtship of convenience any worse?
“The fault is mine,” he replied gallantly. “I went about the business more awkwardly than necessary.”
His contrite expression made her heart soften even further.
The side of her mouth quirked. “If you mean that you made a complete hash of your proposal, then yes.”
“Perhaps I should have done some research.” His left eyebrow lifted. “Do you think there is a handbook for this sort of thing? A gentleman’s guide to fake courtships—”
“—farces,” she added.
“—and other clandestine deceptions,” he finished.
The conspiratorial smile they shared increased her heartbeat.
She wanted to help him…and Miss D’Acre. A part of her was internally jumping up and down, shouting yes.
But what would Mr. Vane say?
He’d been very blunt. Surely, if she explained, he would understand.
“Perhaps,” she suggested slowly, “we could write one together.”
He turned. The full force of his fixed gaze caused Eliza’s heart to drop. Gone was the haunted look and the contrition. The Rogue had returned.
Again, he smiled. “Have you changed your mind?”
“Would your courting a semi-respectable lady improve Miss D’Acre’s position?”
“Worth a wager, at least.” His gaze moved to Lady Asquith and back. “If I can manage to charm your godmother, other ladies will be forced to reconsider their opinions. The prevailing wisdom could significantly shift.”
Eliza considered his point. “I’ve seen what Godmama can accomplish by dropping the right word into the right ear at the right time.”
“So have we all.”
“Since the time is not yet right to announce my own intentions, I could, perhaps, help you…for Miss D’Acre’s sake.”
“Are we negotiating?”
“No, Lord Redver.” She couldn’t help a saucy grin. “We are, for the present, agreed.”
Impulsively, he took her hand. He planted a light kiss on her fingers.
Her heart turned over in her chest. She would have to take care.
His smile was impossible for her to resist. But every time he touched her, she came close to being well and truly lost.
“I’ll ask you to take care,” she amended. “I don’t wish for either of us to end up in a worse position that we are now.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but whatever he might have said was drowned out by a sudden round of enthusiastic applause. Instead, he squeezed and then released her hand.
As the curtain began to fall, Lady Asquith jerked awake and immediately started clapping. “Lovely! Wasn’t that just the most gripping performance you’ve ever seen, Cassandra?”
Cassie glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, yes!”
Eliza ignored Redver’s amused, sidelong glance. Hard enough not to giggle without their shared sense of the absurd.
As the lamps were lit, and Harbury, Redver, and Sir Brenton excused themselves to fetch refreshments. They were barely out of the box before Asquith and his friends, Lord Neville and Lord Blackwell, ducked beneath the curtain in quick succession.
Neville settled into the seat beside Eliza while Asquith and Blackwell entertained Cassie and Lady Asquith.
“Has Harbury been behaving?” Neville inquired.
“Why ask me?” Eliza questioned.
“I count on you to tell the truth,” he replied. “You and Miss Millicent. Miss Cassandra is too gentle.”
“Why Neville! You’re cleverer than I gave you credit.”
He cocked his head and frowned, baffled by her teasing. “I’m sure the last few days have been a trial. You must be exhausted.”
She should have been, yes. In truth, she was feeling rather exhilarated, thanks to Redver.
“How is Miss Millicent?” Neville asked.
“Millie, Lenora, and Annette are all well, thank you for inquiring. In fact, just yesterday, they were able to join Miss D’Acre’s dancing lessons at Lady Redver’s residence.”
“Lady Redver?” He glanced askance at her godmother. “Lady Asquith approved of such a scheme?”
No wonder Redver had assumed she’d meant to insult him.
“Why shouldn’t she?” she asked archly.
His gaze moved from Lady Asquith back to herself.
“Redver is a close friend of Harbury’s, so I wasn’t completely shocked to see him sitting by your side.
Even so, I feel I must warn you against a closer acquaintance.
With everything that’s happened, you must take special care.
And when I say you,” he sent her a significant glance, “I mean all of you.” He placed his hands over hers.
“Your sisters are of special concern to me.”
“Kind of you, Neville.” She tugged, but Neville held fast. “But I will remind you we are all in Lady Asquith’s capable care.”
“You know I…” He flushed. “Please give my best to Millicent.”
Three times he’d mentioned Millie!
She eyed him with increased suspicion. “I will deliver your greetings to all my younger sisters.”
Neville pursed his lips. Eliza kept her expression deliberately blank.
Though Millie was old enough to be out, mourning had delayed her presentation. As a friend of Asquith’s, Neville had spent time with the family, but his interference, however well meant, caused her discomfort.
Millie certainly did not return his affection.
Behind her, the curtain swished. Immediately, Neville released her hands.
She turned and found Redver’s grim gaze fixed on Neville.
He did not look pleased.