Chapter 4 #4
“In fact”—she pushed on before she could stop herself again—“I lie awake at night, imagining you watching me in the darkness. And when I finally fall asleep, I dream that I am naked before you, unable to stop you from…many liberties.”
This time it was he who stopped in his tracks, though he did not need any reminder from her to resume moving. “Miss Cantwell, are you trying to arouse me?”
Her heart had been beating fast for a while, but now blood roared in her ears. “I only speak the truth. I quite despise myself for these desires that run amok. But run amok they do. I daresay for the rest of my life I will dream of being fondled by you.”
His eyes darkened; his hand tightened on the top of his walking stick. Her innards shook. With nerves, yes, but also with something that was almost exhilaration.
This was how she played the game.
“What do you have against making your dreams come true?”
“My entire upbringing, needless to say. But there is also something else, something that you, with your vast wealth, cannot possibly understand.”
“Do please shed some light on the matter.”
“We are poor, you see. Not indigent, as my mother still employs a cookmaid and has one-third share of a gardener—so we get by. But getting by means not buying much of anything beyond food, tea, and coal.
“There is a shop in Cirencester that had a telescope in its shop window. Every month for ten years, I stopped before the window to admire the telescope. I wanted that telescope more than I had ever wanted anything else in my life—I dreamed of it by night and I schemed for it by day.
“The telescope had been put there on consignment. The shopkeeper secretly revealed to me the lowest price he was allowed to accept for the instrument. But I couldn’t afford it—any spare penny we had went into an emergency cache for Matilda.
Then one day the telescope was gone. It had been bought by a gentleman for his ten-year-old son, for the original owner’s full asking price. ”
Belatedly she noticed that they had both come to a stop. He watched her, his gaze unwavering.
“And?” he prompted.
“And nothing. I carried on. I was so accustomed to not having it that my life changed not at all. And so it will be with you. No matter how much I might want you, I will manage to endure it. And I will carry on as if nothing is the matter.”
Melodramatic. But it was good melodrama, if she said so herself. He certainly seemed riveted.
She began walking again—they were beginning to attract attention from the blindman’s buffers, standing there like that. A few steps later, he caught up with her.
“Why did you want the telescope?”
It was not the comment she had been expecting—not that she knew anymore what to expect from him. “That is of no relevance to the discussion at hand.”
“I’d like to know.”
“I will tell you when we are in bed together, but not before.” She flushed with the image that brought to mind.
“And we will be in bed together only after I have pledged my name and protection before a man of God.”
“Precisely.”
“You are a devious woman, Miss Cantwell,” he said.
She felt the warmth of his tone all the way to the pit of her stomach, as if he had licked her. “Only by necessity,” she answered, feigning modesty.
“You would have been wasted on Mr. Pitt. And even more so on Lord Firth—that man would ask for a divorce were he to realize who you truly are.”
“I would have made sure he didn’t.”
“And is that any way to be married?”
“It is how you will be married, with your lady wife never knowing who you truly are,” she pointed out, to another surprised look from him. “So please don’t say what you consider an excellent idea for yourself isn’t good enough for me.”
“Touché,” he admitted.
He said nothing else. The silence was at once nerve-racking and electrifying. Had she been convincing? Or had she been too convincing? Had she further piqued his interest or merely managed to give him second thoughts?
Lady Balfour was all smiles upon their return. “I could see that it was an intense and intensely interesting conversation between the two of you.”
“Miss Cantwell was fascinated by the house parties I give,” Lord Wrenworth said smoothly. “She didn’t realize gentlemen without wives or sisters entertained, both grandly and respectably.”
Lady Balfour pounced. “Well, then, it behooves you to issue an invitation to Miss Cantwell. You cannot dangle such a lure before a young lady and then deny her the experience.”
Louisa sighed inwardly as Lord Wrenworth said, with much innocence, “Oh, I do not intend to deprive Miss Cantwell of the experience at all. But she has declared that she intends to head back home at the end of the Season and recuperate for a good long while, without setting foot beyond her front door.”
“Bosh, Louisa. I know you miss your family, but one should never pass upon a chance to enjoy the master of Huntington’s hospitality, if one at all could.”
“Indeed. My hospitality is the stuff of legends,” said Lord Wrenworth with a seemingly guileless glance Louisa’s way. “But the end of the Season is still far away and there is plenty of time for Miss Cantwell to change her mind.”
“And change her mind she will,” Lady Balfour said gruffly.
“I am sure you will prove prescient, my lady.” He bowed. “Good day, Lady Balfour. And good day, Miss Cantwell.”
* * *
It was not until Louisa was back in her room at Lady Balfour’s town house, flipping uselessly through her notebook, that the enormity of what Lord Wrenworth had proposed fully struck her.
The man was playing with dynamite. And should things go awry, he had just as much to lose as she did. No, more.
He was the one with income in excess of two hundred thousand pounds a year. He was the one with the pristine, lofty reputation. And he was the one who had skillfully avoided the entanglement of eligible young ladies all these years.
If they were discovered, he would have no choice but to marry her.
The very idea of it emptied the air from her lungs. For a man who was neither impulsive nor stupid, this kind of recklessness was nothing short of stunning.
And stunningly telling.
Until this moment, she’d had no idea what he felt toward her, besides an inclination to toy with her for his own amusement. But now she could safely assume that he not only wanted her, but wanted her with an intensity that matched the fervidness of what she felt for him.
It was…
She rose from the desk and walked about aimlessly in her room, until she found herself at the edge of her bed. She sat down again, holding on to the bedpost.
It was…reassuring.
Of course, it was also immoral, depraved, egregious, abhorrent, appalling—and all the other synonyms one could find for absolutely dreadful.
But at least she knew now the madness that had descended on her had not spared him.
Not entirely, in any case.