The Bedding Proposal

by Tracy Anne Warren

  The man laughed, the expression in his ice-blue eyes belying the humor in the sound. “Always so droll. I miss that about you, my dear.”

  “How unfortunate, since I do not miss anything about you. Now, if you will excuse us.”

  Leo curved a protective arm around her back, his mind rife with speculation.

  “But aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” the man said. “He does seem a tad young, even for you. Driven to cradle-robbing these days, are we?”

  “Whoever you are, sir,” Leo said, placing himself between Thalia and the stranger, “the lady clearly has no wish to further her acquaintance. And I have no wish to make yours.”

  “Oho, a champion. Thalia, I must say I can see the appeal, puppyish though it might be.”

  “Her name is Lady Thalia,” Leo said in a hard voice. “You will address her with respect.”

  For the first time, the man looked at him. “I will address her any way I choose, since she is my wife.”

  * * *

  Thalia stared at Gordon, Lord Kemp, and fought the clammy chill that slithered over her skin.

  She hadn’t seen him in more than five years, so coming face-to-face with him tonight, of all nights, was a shock. He’d aged very little in the intervening years. There were just a few additional lines at the corners of his eyes and some gray hairs now scattered through the black. He’d always been absurdly proud of his appearance and handsome features. But even now, she had no trouble seeing past the pleasant exterior to the arrogant superiority and cruel calculation that lay underneath.

  She fisted a hand at her side. “Your wife? Might I remind you, Gordon, that we ceased being husband and wife long ago. You divorced me, if you will remember, in full view of Parliament and the rest of Society.”

  His lip curled with amusement. “Now that you mention it, I do recall something of the sort. Still, when I think of you, I still regard you as mine.”

  “Then I would urge you not to think of me at all.”

  He tossed his head back on another laugh. “As I said before, I miss our little tête-à-têtes. It had quite slipped my mind how amusing they could be.”

  And how unpleasant.

  “So, how are you, Thalia?”

  “Thriving.” She forced a broad smile and leaned closer to Leo. “Now, I’m sure you don’t wish to miss the beginning of the second act, so pray do go on.”

  “I will after I meet your new companion.”

  The crawling sensation skittered over her skin again, her instincts rebelling against the idea of him even knowing Leo’s name.

  But Leo was his own man and spoke before she had time to formulate an excuse. “Lord Leopold Byron,” Leo stated. “And you are Lord Kemp.”

  “Indeed. I am acquainted with your brother the duke. We sit together in the House of Lords.”

  “Really?” he said in a bored tone. “Edward has never mentioned you. But then, there are several hundred lords who sit in Parliament. I’m sure he can’t remember them all.” Leo glanced away, his expression even more arrogant than Gordon’s. In that moment, he looked every inch the son and the brother of a duke.

  Leo gazed down at her. “We’re done here, I believe.”

  She sent him a little smile. “Yes, we are.”

  Together they turned away.

  “At least you’ve picked a protector with funds, Thalia,” Gordon called after them. “If you’re a good girl, maybe he’ll give you some cash and jewelry as payment for your services.”

  She gasped softly, then looked back. He’d bullied her often during their marriage; she would not let him bully her now. “You mean in order to replace the personal possessions and heirlooms you stole from me, such as my great-grandmother’s pearls?”

  Gordon’s eyes narrowed. “I stole nothing. If your great-grandmother’s pearls have gone astray, you’ve only yourself to blame. You really should learn to take care better care of your belongings, Thalia.”

  “And you should learn how to be a better liar, Gordon. But we both know the truth, don’t we? About everything.”

  She would have walked away then, but Leo stayed her with a careful touch.

  He locked gazes with Gordon. “Apologize, Kemp.”

  Gordon arched a brow. “For what? I said nothing that requires an apology.”

  “Tell Lady Thalia you are sorry.”

  “Or what, you impudent whelp?”

  “Or I’ll beat you bloody.”

  “Really? Right here in the theater corridor between acts? Are you sure you want to attract more attention than we are receiving already? I assure you, people will find it even more entertaining than the play.”

  And Gordon was right, Thalia realized, noticing the small group of onlookers who had gathered to watch and whisper. She needed to stop this before it escalated even further. If not for her own sake, then for Leo’s.

  “Leo, come away,” she murmured, softly tugging at his sleeve. “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.”

  “Yes, Lord Leopold,” Gordon taunted, “do take my former wife’s advice and leave. Or has no one ever taught you to mind your elders?”

  Leo didn’t move, his jaw set at a pugnacious tilt. “Apologize to her.”

  “My, you are insistent. But then youth generally is. Too hotheaded to know when to give up.” Gordon looked around and shared a smile with those assembled. “Fine, boy. You want an apology? Then you may have one.”

  Thalia shrank inside, bracing herself, since she knew just how horrible Gordon could be.

  “My apologies, Lady Thalia, for insinuating that you are a whore,” Gordon said. “I should have been more accurate and called you a slut instead.”

  Before the words even had time to settle, Leo lunged and wrapped a hand around Gordon’s throat, squeezing hard.

  Gordon choked and tried to fight back, reaching up with both hands in a vain attempt to break Leo’s grip. But Leo held fast and squeezed tighter, clearly the stronger of the two.

  Several men rushed forward and locked their arms around Leo, forcing him to release Gordon as they yanked him back and away.

  Gordon bent double and gagged, making a terrible hacking sound as he coughed and struggled for air. His face had turned an alarming shade of red, his blue eyes wide with pain and fury.

  Leo shook off the restraining arms of the men who held him, then straightened his coat with a sharp downward tug.

  Meanwhile, all Thalia could do was watch in horror, wondering how her lovely evening out at the theater had gone so dreadfully wrong.

  “I should call you out for this,” Gordon rasped.

  “Just name your seconds.”

  “No!” Thalia exclaimed. “Stop this at once.”

  Both men ignored her.

  “I would. Believe me, I’d love nothing more than to put a bullet through you. But you aren’t worth the trouble of being forced to flee to the Continent after your death.”

  “Why do you imagine you would be the one forced to flee?”

  Gordon coughed again, taking a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his florid face. “Begone, puppy. I have had enough of you and my cast-off wife for one evening.”

  “Coward.”

  Gordon stilled, his eyes slit like a snake’s. “You are trying to draw me out again, but your words don’t wound me. Why should they when you are nothing but the latest lover of my cuckolding bride? I finished with her long ago and I am finished with you now.”

  With that, Gordon turned and walked away.

  Leo took a step forward as if to follow. Thalia went to him and took hold of his arm, keeping him in place. “Leo, please,” she said in a low voice, “let us go. You have defended my honor and I thank you, but it is over now. Let it stay that way.”

  “He is vile. How could you ever have been married to such a man?”

  “It was not easy. Please, can we not go home? I just want to go home.”

  He turned his head, looking at her, really seeing her again. “Of course. I should have t
hought. My pardon.”

  Despite the fact that the play had now resumed, a few people lingered, watching them with rapt interest.

  Obviously aware of the unwanted attention, he slipped her arm through his. Going to the stairs, they went down and out of the theater.

  Chapter 20

  Thalia and Leo sat in silence during the coach ride back to her town house.

  When they arrived, Leo escorted her inside and up to her sitting room, where they found a light supper awaiting them. It consisted of a small pot of beef soup, which sat warming on the fireplace hearth, along with bread, cheese and fruit.

  Before her departure, she’d told the servants, including her maid Parker, that they need not wait up, since she would be returning home late. She’d also wanted to assure herself of some privacy with Leo.

  But the evening had gone nothing like she’d planned.

  Needing something to occupy herself, Thalia ladled the soup into a pair of bowls, then put slices of bread on separate plates. She passed one of each to Leo, who accepted with a quiet word of thanks.

  The silence descended between them again.

  But she couldn’t eat, the soup too hot on her tongue and the bread sticking in her throat. She set her spoon aside.

  Leo looked up from where he sat across from her. “Not hungry?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “I have little appetite myself.” He laid down his spoon.

  He sat for another minute, then sighed. “Do you wish me to go?”

  Her eyes met his. “No. Unless you want to. I am sorry for tonight.”

  “What have you to be sorry about?” he asked. “You are not the one to blame. Lord Kemp is the one who sought to sow animosity, not you.”

  “Yes,” she said wryly, “Gordon has always been expert at inciting discord. Even so, it is your name that will be on everyone’s lips come morning. How the scandalous Lady K.’s newest lover came to blows with the husband who divorced her.”

  “Let them talk. I care naught for gossip.”

  “That is good, since there will be plenty in spite of the lack of Society currently in Town.”

  She twisted her hands in her lap and looked toward the fire. “I must thank you again for your defense of me. It was quite gallant, even if unnecessary.”

  “Unnecessary in what way?” he said.

  She looked back. “My reputation was destroyed years ago, so nothing said, however dreadful, could sully it further. It was noble of you to take up my cause, though. I cannot recall ever having been so ably championed in the whole of my life.”

  “Then you must keep very pitiable company indeed.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “What would you have had me do? Stand aside while he called you what he called you?”

  “Others have turned their backs. Many others. And Gordon has called me worse, and in far more public surrounds than tonight.”

  “The man is a bastard.”

  She didn’t flinch at his harsh language. “Yes, he is.” In far more terrible ways than even Leo realized.

  “I suppose it is wrong of me to admit, but I rather enjoyed watching you throttle him,” she said. “Not many have the nerve to stand up to Gordon and certainly not with an audience. I am relieved, though, that he refused to duel with you.”

  The very idea made her ill.

  His jaw tightened. “Why? Do you imagine I would have lost?”

  “No. I am sure you are highly skilled with either sword or pistol. But I do not trust him to play fair. He uses tricks; it is his way. He likes to make sure that matters transpire in his favor, whatever the cost.”

  “Is that what he did to you?”

  “What?” she asked, startled.

  “Did he trick you, Thalia? For some while now I have found myself questioning the story everyone accepts about your divorce. Were you really unfaithful to him or did something else occur? As for your myriad lovers, I’ve seen no sign of those either. Tell me the truth. Your truth.”

  She stared at him, quietly astonished. In all this time, no one had ever asked her that question, had ever wanted to know whether Gordon’s version of events might not be as truthful as everyone assumed.

  Jane and Mathilda had stood by her without the necessity of an explanation; they had known enough about her marriage to consider her blameless, whatever she may or may not have done. As for everyone else, including the few relations she had left, they had accepted Gordon’s accusations without a moment’s hesitation. They had condemned her and turned their backs.

  But now Leopold Byron of all people wanted to hear her side—a side she had not even been permitted to tell during the lengthy divorce trial.

  She met his brilliant green-gold eyes, then drew a breath. “No, I was not unfaithful, at least not in the way they claimed.”

  “Go on,” Leo said patiently.

  “The man with whom I was accused of dishonoring my marriage was a friend, or so I thought. We talked sometimes, just talked. It was all very innocent, but I made the mistake of being alone with him one evening at a party. He—”

  “Yes? What did he do?”

  “Held my hand, nothing more. It was a gesture of comfort. My marriage was far from happy, but then most aristocratic marriages are a matter of convenience rather than affection. Mine was no different.”

  She glanced away. “My spirits were quite low that evening and he and I began talking in the usual way. He took my hand, trying to cheer me. Then suddenly Gordon was there, yelling that he’d caught me in the act, accusing me of cuckolding him. I could scarcely comprehend what he was saying; it was so wrong.”

  She paused, drawing a shuddering breath. “Everyone came crowding into the doorway to listen to Gordon’s hateful rant. I thought my friend would defend me, but he apologized, a look of guilt on his face as if we really had been having an affair. It was only later that I understood.”

  “Understood what?”

  “That Gordon had arranged the entire spectacle. That the man I’d thought my friend was really his pawn. He testified that we were lovers, that he was one of many men with whom I had relations. He painted me a doxy before the entire world. And nothing I said could change anyone’s mind. No one asked me anything because no one believed that I might not be guilty.”

  She hung her head, her hands clenched in a tight, white-knuckled grip. She wasn’t even aware of Leo until he took a seat at her side and covered her cold hands with one of his own.

  “I believe you,” he said. “I believe every word of your innocence.”

  Then she was in his arms, clasped inside his strong, warm embrace, her face pressed to his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, Thalia.” He brushed his lips against her temple. “I would undo it all if I could. Your hurt pains me.” He skimmed featherlight kisses over her forehead and nose and cheek, each slight touch driving away a little more of the chill inside her. “But I cannot be sorry you are no longer his wife. For that, I can have no remorse.”

  Tilting back her head, she looked into his eyes. “I hated being his wife. Make me forget, Leo. Make me forget it all, if only for tonight.”

  His mouth found hers, softly, slowly. He kissed her tenderly, as if she were made of spun glass and he feared she might shatter.

  And perhaps she might, she realized, but not for the reasons he thought.

  She was so tired.

  Tired of the lies.

  Of the loneliness.

  And most of all, of denying her own natural human desires.

  She’d been branded a harlot yet enjoyed none of the carnal rewards. Until now, until Leo, she had not missed them. Hadn’t even wanted them, thinking herself incapable of such needs.

  But Leo made her feel, made her yearn as she never imagined she could. He’d given her a taste of pleasure so exquisite it still haunted her dreams, awake and asleep.

  And now, tonight, she wanted more.

  Closing her eyes, she kissed him back, silently urging him to take things deeper. But his touch re
mained light, his every move easy and slow, as if time itself had stopped and they were the only two people left in the world.

  He dusted silky kisses over her eyelids, nose and cheeks, then down to her chin and jaw, where he placed nibbling little pecks along the length of her throat. His lips settled at the base, nuzzling there before he began drawing on her with a sweet suction that would surely leave a mark.

  His mark.

  The knowledge made her tremble as fire sizzled through her veins. Her fingers twined in the dark gold of his hair to cradle him closer.

  He made a low humming sound of pleasure as she caressed his nape. Scattering kisses, he moved on to a new spot along the upper curve of her breast. He licked her there lightly, then did the same to its twin, leaving behind a damp trail that set her nerves ablaze.

  A fresh shudder rippled over her skin, hot and cold, then hot and cold again. Her clothes suddenly felt too tight, too confining, her thin satin slippers irrationally heavy on her feet.

  With a restless movement, she kicked them off.

  Leo noticed. “Will your maid be along to assist you tonight?”

  She shook her head. “No. I told her not to wait up, that I would see to myself.”

  He smiled, pleased. “Then I shall see to you,” he told her, a proprietary gleam in his eyes. “Presuming you will let me, that is.”

  “I will,” she murmured. “Take me to bed now, Leo.”

  He kissed her again, then entwined his fingers with hers to pull her to her stocking feet. Hand in hand, he led her across the sitting room into her bedchamber. He closed the door behind them with a firm click of the lock.

  Still holding her hand, he drew her to the satinwood dressing table with its large mirror. Gently, he turned her around so she faced the glass, her back to his front. Their eyes met in the reflection.

  He leaned down and pressed his lips to a spot just behind her ear; her toes curled against the soft wool carpet. “Where does she usually begin?” he asked.

  “With my jewelry,” she said, her breath thin in her lungs.

  He came around and reached for the bracelet on her wrist. Unfastening it, he laid it next to the rose-painted porcelain hairpin box on her dressing table.