by Cheryl Holt
“There’s no chance of that. Not with him lurking and glowering. Would you stop feeling sorry for yourself? It’s exhausting.”
Fish strolled to the door, and Libby asked, “Where are you going?”
“I’m going down to dance and socialize. You can hide in your room if you like, but I traveled to Roland to have some fun. It’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”
“I suppose,” Libby grumbled.
“If you don’t come with me, everyone will wonder about you.”
“I don’t care. Tell them I’m indisposed.”
“I won’t tell them that. I’ll say I have no idea what’s wrong, and they can gossip over whether you’re snubbing them.”
“Would you find Simon for me? Send him up. He and I need to confer about the best locations for a show away from London.”
“The last I knew, he was in the card room, waiting for the games to start.”
“Could you drag him out? Inform him that I forbid him to gamble.”
“You might as well order the sun not to streak across the sky.”
Fish walked out and left Libby alone with her morbid rumination.
It had been incredibly difficult to greet Lord Roland and his daughter, but she could have managed it without much effort if Luke hadn’t been standing at Penny’s side, looking very much as if he belonged in that very spot and nowhere else.
Fish was correct that Libby would vanish until his interest waned. If he was off courting an heiress, what was it to Libby?
But she wasn’t leaving London just because Luke was fascinated. She was also leaving because she was smitten to a dangerous degree. If she’d continued to dally with him, she was terribly afraid that, for once, she would have misbehaved in a manner she’d regret, and she absolutely refused to have him break her heart.
Since their catastrophic meeting out in the driveway, she hadn’t seen him again, but she kept pondering their next encounter. What would he say? How would she reply?
He’d be determined to explain himself, but she’d rather jump off a cliff than listen to any of his excuses. He’d proved himself a liar and a libertine, which placed him in a wretched pot with every despicable cad of her acquaintance, and she was inordinately crushed by the discovery.
It didn’t matter how Fish nagged, didn’t matter how much Simon wanted to gamble. It didn’t even matter that she would give up the opportunity to befriend Lord Roland. They weren’t staying and that was that!
The door opened, and she glanced over, expecting it to be Fish, having forgotten something, or Simon obeying her summons. It was neither of them though, and when she realized the identity of her visitor, she was so incensed she was amazed she didn’t explode into tiny pieces.
“Get out of here! Right now!”
“No,” Luke said. “I thought we should talk.”
“There isn’t a single topic we need to discuss, Lord Barrett.” She imbued the word lord with a hefty amount of venom.
The brazen oaf shut the door and spun the key, then he stuck it in his pocket so she couldn’t escape until he deigned to release her.
“Are you insane?” she hissed. “You can’t be in here with me! We most especially can’t be locked in! Have you any notion of the trouble we’ll stir if we’re caught?”
“No one saw me,” he ludicrously stated.
“You can’t be sure of that.”
She marched over and yanked on the knob, hoping against hope that the key hadn’t worked, but she was trapped with him.
Fish had stripped her out of her traveling costume and removed her corset, so she was attired in her chemise and petticoat, a robe over the top. It was the second time he’d observed her in such a scandalous condition, and she wouldn’t faint merely because he’d barged in when she wasn’t dressed. But without corset and gown, she’d shed some of the armor required to keep him at bay.
She whipped around and said, “Give me the key.”
“No. Now listen . . .”
“Listen to you? Are you deranged?”
“Yes, I very much believe I might be, but you have driven me to this ledge of lunacy.”
“Your fiancée is downstairs!”
“She’s not my fiancée yet,” he had the audacity to claim.
“That’s your defense? You haven’t proposed yet, so it’s all right for you to be in my bedchamber?”
He grinned. “I continue to stumble on you without your clothes, and I’m taking it as a positive sign.”
“What is there about any of this you deem to be positive?”
“I have previously suggested this solution, but you’ve chided me for it, and I’m suggesting it again. We should have an affair.”
Of all the comments he could have voiced, it was the one most guaranteed to fuel her rage.
“We are in your betrothed’s home and you have the gall to proposition me?”
“If I decide to wed Penny, which I definitely haven’t, I won’t be married for ages. There’s no reason we can’t pursue an amour.”
“There’s every reason!” she irately said.
“Name one.”
“I would never hurt Lady Penny in the way you’re requesting. You don’t seem to care about how she would view a liaison between us, but I certainly do.”
“I don’t intend to tell her about it.”
“Of course you don’t. You’ll simply skulk around behind her back. Perhaps bad luck would strike, and you would plant a babe in my womb just before your wedding. Wouldn’t that be a lovely gift for your bride as you begin your life together?”
“What would you advise then? For the next two weeks, will we ignore each other?”
“It’s my goal for this evening, but as of tomorrow, I will no longer have to fret about you.”
“Really? Why is that?”
“I’m leaving.”
“Leaving for where?”
“That, Lord Barrett, is none of your business.”
“You’re not leaving.” He scoffed as if the notion was ridiculous.
“You are not my husband or my father, so you possess no authority to boss me.”
“I suppose you think you’ll vanish on me, and when I finally return to London, you’ll be gone.”
“You’re about to become engaged!”
“And I told you the wedding is months away—if at all!”
She felt as if she was speaking in a foreign language he didn’t comprehend. How could they assess the quagmire so differently? It made her realize that they hadn’t been as intimately attuned as she’d assumed.
She stormed away from the door. The manor was packed with guests, and any of them could walk by and hear them arguing. She would not humiliate herself by having people discover she had a man in her room.
He didn’t have the grace to slink out like the cur he was. He followed her into the bedchamber. She closed the door, isolating them further, but hopefully, tamping down any sounds that might waft into the hall.
She was about to scold him but, as if she were invisible, he sauntered over to a chair in the corner and plopped down. There was a decanter of wine on a table next to him, and he poured himself a glass.
She stomped over and snatched it away. “You’re not loafing and drinking in my bedroom.”
“Why don’t you drink it then? You should calm down. Wine might help to soothe your dour mood.”
“I don’t need wine to maneuver through this debacle.”
She was perched in front of him, but far enough away that he couldn’t reach for her. He studied her, liking her state of dishabille, how the robe was loosely belted. She was sufficiently concealed by fabric that it wasn’t exactly risqué, but then, it was extremely risqué too.
“I don’t understand why you’re so angry,” he said.
“You wouldn’t. You’re rich and sp
oiled, so you presume you can wallow in any sort of wicked behavior.”
“I’m merely attending a house party—as are you.”
“When we parted in London, you told me you had business in the country.”
“I did. I do.”
“You told me you were having problems at your estate.”
“I am having problems there, and I’ve been dealing with them.”
“And now, you’re here at Roland and about to get engaged.”
He frowned. “Could we stop talking about it?”
“No. Tell me why you picked her. I’m disgustingly curious. She’s so much younger than you are. What could you possibly have in common?”
He hemmed and hawed, nearly refused to clarify his motives, then he said, “Her father approached me about it. My property adjoins his. She has a fine dowry, and I’ve known Lord Roland all my life. It’s a good match for me.”
“What’s in her dowry? Will she bring you large tracts of land? Will she deliver money too? A lot of money?”
“Ah . . . yes.”
His cheeks flushed—as if with chagrin—so apparently he was capable of some shame.
“If I hadn’t stumbled on you,” Libby said, “would you ever have confided in me about your betrothal?”
He shrugged. “Probably not.”
“You’d have let me read about it in the newspapers?”
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
“With you likely to wed Lady Penny, what was it you envisioned happening between us?”
“Don’t refer to it in the past tense. We should have a long, satisfying affair, and I fail to see why my pondering matrimony has to change that situation. My relationship with you would be completely separate from my relationship with Penny.”
She scoffed with fury. “That just might be the most cold-blooded comment ever uttered in my presence.”
“It’s the reality that’s vexing me.”
“If I jumped into an amour with you, then you wed Lady Penny, you’d be committing adultery.”
He sighed. “Yes, I guess I would be.”
“Have you the slightest notion how awful that sounds to me?”
“Well, what do you envision happening between us? You couldn’t have believed we would wind up married. You’re not a foolish, starry-eyed girl, so you’re aware of how the world works. A man of my station never marries a woman of yours.”
It was a true statement, but a callous one that wounded her.
She could have argued with him, could have insisted she was precisely the female he needed as his wife. Yes, Penelope Pendleton could bring him money and land, but Libby could have brought other things: joy, excitement, friendship. Even love eventually.
Yet as she tabulated the mental list, she chided herself for being ridiculous. She didn’t want to ever be a bride, didn’t want to be his bride. So why was she so upset? It made no sense.
“You’re correct,” she agreed. “A man of your station always selects a candidate who is much richer and grander than me.”
“Don’t denigrate yourself. I think you’re magnificent, but there are only certain ways you and I can be together. I’ve told you what they are. I’m bound to wed as high as I’m able, and I fully intend to do that. But in the meantime, why shouldn’t we be happy?”
“You would be happy in such a sordid arrangement, but I never could be.”
“You haven’t considered the benefits an affair could deliver.”
“There could be no benefit,” she vehemently said.
“Are you sure about that? Wouldn’t you like to be happy too?”
At the question, she was taken aback, and her initial reaction was to proclaim that she’d always been plenty happy, but that was a lie.
From the period when she was tiny and had suffered her string of tragedies, there had been a huge cloud of despondency hanging over her. With what she’d endured as a small child, then with conniving Uncle Harry glomming onto her, there’d been no chance for her to grow up perky and vivacious.
She was charismatic and flamboyant, but she practiced constantly to exhibit those traits, and she couldn’t honestly state that she’d ever been happy. She wasn’t about to debate the point with him though.
“Give me the key to the door,” she said.
“No. We’re not done discussing this.”
“Yes, we are. I’ve probed your opinion about Lady Penny, matrimony, and adultery. Much to my dismay, you are not faithful or loyal, and it indicates you’re not a person I could ever respect or esteem.”
She wasn’t behaving as he’d expected, and he was becoming annoyed. “You’re not listening to me.”
“I’m listening, and I’ve heard every word. You’re about to betroth yourself to Lady Penny. If you ultimately decide not to proceed, you’ll pick someone else just like her. You’ll be engaged very soon.”
“I suppose I will be,” he bluntly said. “I’m thirty this year. I have to get on with it.”
“But I don’t have to watch.”
Events at Roland were occurring at lightning speed, and she couldn’t keep up. If he wed Lady Penny, it would kill her with regret and remorse. She didn’t usually rue the past. She couldn’t alter or fix it, but why should Penelope Pendleton be allowed to marry him, but not Libby?
Why had Fate pushed Libby so far out of the proper path that she could never be an appropriate bride for a man like him?
He scowled quite violently. “Why are you being so aggravating? You’re acting as if I made promises and broke them. We’ve merely shared a few torrid kisses, and I’d like to share a few more. I’ve explained the circumstances by which it can happen.”
“I’m asking myself the very same question: Why am I so aggravated? I have no idea, and I concur. We shared a few delicious kisses, but it could never have been more than that.”
“I’m sorry I’ve upset you.”
“No, you’re not. If I had to assess your condition, I’d say you’re irked to have been caught. Now we’re finished talking about this, and you have to leave.”
His scowl deepened, his mind frantically whirring as he sifted through possibilities that would placate her, but she couldn’t imagine how he could persuade her to relent.
“What if . . . if . . .” He cut off, his bewilderment clear. Then he tried again. “What if I . . . ah . . . pass on the betrothal to Penny? What if I speak to Lord Roland and tell him I need more time to think about it?”
“How long would you claim to need?” She didn’t care about any delay and wouldn’t encourage one, but she was curious about what number he’d select.
“How about a year? I’ll declare that I’m too busy at the moment, what with straightening out the financial mess my brother left me. I could insist I’m not ready.”
“You’d force Penny to wait a whole year? Are you that sure of her devotion?”
“No, but I’m willing to risk it—for you. During that interval, I wouldn’t pursue an engagement with her or anyone, and I’ll focus all my attention on you. Would that bring you down off your moral high horse?”
She sighed—with amusement and disgust. “I would never consent to that. As you mentioned, you’re thirty. You’re an aristocrat, with a title and an estate to protect. You have to get your future in order. You have to choose a bride and marry her, and I refuse to be an impediment to that swift conclusion.”
His face was so expressive, his emotions plainly visible. “So just like that, it’s over?”
“We never really started, so how could it be over?”
“If you never saw me again, you’d be fine with that ending?”
“I’d miss you,” she admitted, “but I’ve had a life of goodbyes. They’re not that difficult for me.”
He stood and stepped over to where she was hovering by the bed. She was still holdi
ng the glass of wine he’d poured when he’d first sat down. He yanked it away and gulped the contents, then smacked it onto a nearby table so hard the stem snapped off.
“Have I told you, Libby Carstairs,” he said, “that you are the most absurd female I’ve ever met?”
“I don’t recall that exact insult, but if you’ve leveled it, I’m not surprised. You’re a spoiled bully, and you’re anxious to pressure me into an affair, but you can’t.”
“You’re not absurd because you won’t obey me,” he ludicrously said. “You’re absurd because your thought processes are absolutely convoluted.”
Before she knew what he intended, he grabbed her by the waist and tumbled them onto the bed. They landed in a tangle of legs and petticoat, and he rolled them so they were stretched out with him on top and her on the bottom. His much larger male body crushed her much smaller female one into the mattress.
She’d never found herself in such a scandalous position, but she wasn’t alarmed as a less worldly young lady might have been. He wouldn’t hurt or ravish her. No, he’d expect he could use seduction to erode her defenses so, eventually, she gave him what he wanted.
The pathetic problem with that scenario was that he was probably correct.
He glared down at her and decreed, “We’re not parting, and you’re not leaving Roland, so toss those insane notions out of your head.”
“You’re mad, Lucas Watson.”
“Yes, I am, and I believe I’ve clarified that it’s all your fault. You have driven me to lunacy. Will you please stop complaining? I can’t listen to another word from you.”
With that, he began kissing her, his lips capturing hers in a wild, reckless way. It seemed as if he was drinking her in, gobbling her up. He’d been wandering in the desert, and she was the oasis he’d been struggling to find.
His tongue was in her mouth, his fingers in her hair, and he was touching her all over, his hands roaming everywhere, learning her shape and size.
She’d meant to lie stiff as a board and pretend she wasn’t enjoying herself, but just as he was totally obsessed with her, she was totally obsessed with him. The fact that he was out of reach and could never bind himself didn’t deter her in the least. She yearned to try to make him her very own. She yearned to keep him forever.