“Dear me,” he murmured, and crossed to the door. Opening it, he ensured it would not close. “For respectability,” he said. “Do not concern yourself, Elizabeth, there is nobody close. Whatever is the matter?” The least he could do was offer her refreshment. “Would you like tea?” He touched the hand bell, but she responded before he lifted it.
“No, don’t! I do not want anything but you.”
“Me?” She had never shown evidence of that before.
“I cannot bear our separation. People are talking, Gerald. They say I have snared you, that I’ve captured you. It’s the jealousy, that’s all. So many women have you in their sights. Did you not notice that town is unusually busy?”
He shook his head. “It seems the same to me.”
“Gerald, I cannot bear to lose you.” She took a step forward. Gerald planted his feet firmly on the ground to prevent himself stepping backward.
He should really get hold of himself. He’d kissed her before, on the event of their private agreement to marry. True, it had been nothing like—damn it all, he was off again. This comparison nonsense had to stop. “Please,” she went on. “Bring the date of the marriage forward.”
“The contracts,” he said numbly. “We have to ensure they’re in order.”
“We could do that later. As long as the main bones are in place, I’m sure that will be fine.”
His antennae went up. Was something wrong with her family? How could there be, when her father was a byword for wealth and power? Something else, then. He would definitely consult with his sisters. “What is wrong, my dear?”
“I’m worried.” That sounded like her. Since their agreement Elizabeth had consulted him constantly, even on trivial matters like the kind of hat he preferred on a woman. He’d answered sharply that he didn’t care, and immediately felt sorry when she’d turned away and dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. A woman of delicate sensibilities was Elizabeth. Or so she liked to present herself, but under her air of fragility lay a woman of steel.
Nothing like—
He would obviously have to cut these thoughts short as soon as they appeared but even as he chopped it off, a vision of Annie appeared in his head. She was laughing, hair disheveled because he’d been running his fingers through it.
Dear God, was he in love?
“We must consider the matter closely,” he said to Elizabeth. “Perhaps if we set a date sometime at the end of May—the middle of May,” he amended when her face fell. “That would give the lawyers time to agree what they have to, and society time to marvel at your extreme good fortune at snaring me.” He smiled, meaning the last comment as a joke.
Elizabeth failed to pick up his mild sally. “Indeed, I am fortunate and I know it very well. That is my concern. I truly understand my good fortune, and I cannot wait.” She moved closer. Gerald held his ground as she pressed against him. “That kiss. I cannot wait for more.”
He didn’t believe her. How could he, when her eyes held no warmth, and her mouth smiled with chilly acceptance? She had not enjoyed their first kiss, which was why he had not been inclined to repeat it. Was she telling him she wanted another?
“You have woken me to a new understanding,” she said softly, meeting his eyes. “I want this, Gerald, and I cannot wait to warm your bed.”
That first phrase sounded familiar. In a moment he had it. Delphi had read it aloud to them at dinner the other evening. It was a quotation from the latest literary masterpiece by a novelist Delphi did not hold in high regard. The passage had turned to more lurid language. Delphi had read the book to them until she had dissolved in laughter. In the end, the heroine had died of a broken heart when she’d seen the hero flirting with another woman.
He tried to be gentle, but he needed her to understand this was a marriage of convenience. She’d seemed perfectly aware of the fact before. “You do realize our union is one arranged for our greater good?” He could have put that better. “I had not thought your feelings engaged.” He still didn’t, for that matter.
The light left her eyes. ”I want more,” she said.
One thing he knew. “I cannot give it to you.” He hated to do this to any woman, but he had no choice. She could not foster any false illusions about him. “Elizabeth, I will do my best, but the bargain, as it was presented to me, was to assure my sisters of their welcome and help us settle into the place we should occupy.” Like buying a new sofa.
He hated this betrothal, hated the necessity, and hated behaving in this way to a woman. But he had promised honesty, and he would at least do that.
She took a step back. “Yes, I understand. But I need a man in my life, Gerald. I want a man to give me children, and lend me countenance. I cannot dwindle into an old maid, I cannot bear it!”
She confused him with her changes in mood. But perhaps this was the time to broach the uncomfortable truths lying between them. “Do you wish for my fidelity? I will not ask it of you after the heir arrives.”
Many women took lovers when they were pregnant, since they could not be impregnated twice. She would know that, since her own sister was suspected of taking advantage of that fact. The notion repelled him, but he’d forced himself to face reality.
She shook her head. “I understand men have appetites no one woman can hope to fulfill. But I will be your wife, Gerald. I will not be humiliated or become the center of gossip. I want discretion.”
She faced him, her eyes once more bleak and cold. “My father usually has a mistress, but he keeps her privately and does not parade her before her betters.”
Like a pet. Not even that, considering the number of lap-dogs that had nearly tripped him up recently. Like a guilty secret.
Could he really put Annie in that position?
Every sense in him rebelled. No, no he could not do that to her. Her vehemence that morning made sense. He wished he could tell her he understood, but it was too late. He would never see her again, and the sooner he reconciled himself to his unhappy fate, the better.
“I will speak to my lawyer,” he said, “and see how quickly we may be married.”
He hardly heard her quietly spoken thanks. He was too busy grieving.
CHAPTER NINE
ANNIE WOULD HAVE PREFERRED to spend the day in her office, immured with her books. She had some pages in the account books to check, and a new design for an edging to consider. She needed to discuss the disbursement of offices and workshops in the new building, the one next door. She could knock some walls through, and enlarge the living quarters, too.
If she was still living here. If she was not living in Joseph’s house.
After changing into her usual everyday clothes and visiting her children, she made her way to her office on the ground floor. Mr. Petit, bowed and bade her good morning. She nodded back. Because of the lack of space, they shared this office, but she had never found that a problem before.
Today she did. She wanted to be alone, to weep the dam of tears that had collected behind her eyes, and scold herself for being foolish. She’d accepted her fate a long time ago. There was no sense in bemoaning it now.
Gerald had swept through her life, a whirlwind here one moment and gone the next. The devastation he left behind him was hers to deal with. She should not bewail her fate, like a weeping Greek chorus. She must go on and pray that the wounds tearing her up inside would heal.
One day she would look back on her small adventure and smile, acknowledging her life had not been so bad after all. It was just that at the moment, she seemed to be living a tragedy, and she had nobody to turn to.
Since when had she been so pathetic? Usually, after a setback she picked up her skirts and carried on, marching toward her goal. This time the wind had blown her back so hard she had to rest to regain her breath.
It would get better. She would feel more herself in a day or two. The figures danced before her eyes in a most disconcerting way, but she forced her shattered senses to a semblance of calm.
When the doorbell jangl
ed she jerked awake, not aware she’d been dozing.
Petit showed no awareness, but since Annie valued his discretion she assumed he’d marked her inattention. He left his desk and went to answer the door, returning with Joseph Stephenson. Inwardly she sighed. Outwardly, she smiled and got to her feet, offering her hand.
Now or never. She would answer him and settle her future, praying that would settle her nerves, too. She had made her decision that morning, when truly, there was no decision to be made. If she had no children, then, perhaps, she would consider Gerald’s offer, or near-offer. Even at the risk of disgracing her parents, who she would have to visit soon.
So why, when she wanted to work, had her brain failed to cooperate? Why was it working at twice its normal rate?
Petit took one look at her, murmured, “I’ll arrange for some tea,” and left the office. Wise man.
“Please take a seat, Mr. Stephenson. Unless you’d prefer to come up to the drawing room?”
Joseph shook his head. “We will do very well here. I came for your answer.”
Well that was blunt and to the point. She could only do him the courtesy of responding in the same manner. “Yes.”
“To what, Mrs. Cathcart?”
“To your proposal, Mr. Stephenson. Marriage, if the offer is still on the table?”
He flicked a glance at her, making her feel that she was being assessed. As if she had devalued herself by making him wait. “What made you decide?”
The man she really wanted was unavailable. At least she knew better than to tell him. “I told you I needed to think about it and discuss the matter with my family. I need my sons’ inheritance assured.”
He nodded. “I promise that. In their minority I can manage it together with mine, or appoint separate managers. It will benefit from the same information I am privy to, so it has every chance of prospering.”
“Raymond Petit has served me excellently so far as manager.”
The business discussion suited Annie so much more than personal discussions. Her body still thrumming from the effects of last night, she wanted to distance herself from the experience as fast as she could manage it. To look back on the night as her moment of madness, with wisdom and knowledge, not with the yearning for more that was ripping her apart. Every decision she took from now on had to take her farther away from last night. She wanted to enshrine it, not recall it with the raw edge cutting her open from the inside.
“I imagine the legal details could take some time.”
He shook his head. “Not so much if we set our lawyers to work as soon as possible. We will have the banns read and we will marry in a month.”
Shock reverberated around her hollowly. Her paperwork just became reality.
He steepled his fingers. “I would expect that you prefer to live in my house. It is larger, and better situated. You may use this one purely as business premises.”
“I wish to continue running Cathcart’s.”
His lips firmed. He was not pleased, but on this she would not budge. “I expect you to bear my heirs.” Put like that, the process sounded impersonal, but the words brought a gleam to his eyes. “Given that, I wish you to take a step back rather than imperil yourself or the child.”
Had they reached a sticking point already? She could not allow him to take control out of her hands. What the devil was she to do with herself all day? Sew a fine seam and engage in gossip with the other wives?
“Then I will spell out my conditions, sir. I wish to see the books every week.” She tapped the ledger open before her on the desk. “I always initial them. I wish every major decision that is made about Cathcart and Sons to involve me.”
He regarded her from under lowered lids. A lesser being might have given in to such a protracted silence, but Annie was made of sterner stuff. She waited him out. Eventually he spoke. “Your request sounds reasonable. In return I want your promise to act as my hostess and stand with me in all important decisions. Our union comes first.”
She could not imagine that her small company would be so important to him. He controlled a network of establishments. Why should he care about hers?
Cathcart’s was not the only maker of silver wire in the country, although she had to admit there were only half a dozen or so. The machinery was expensive, and skilled workmen hard to come by. “Our agreement would of course preclude your use of my machinery and workers. They would be under the same conditions as they are to everyone else.”
He nodded. “Believe me, dear lady, your conditions serve to strengthen both of us. I would also add that if we have the good fortune to conceive a child, that you not over-exert yourself during your pregnancy. Some women take the condition hard.”
“I was healthy all through both my previous pregnancies, sir.” Discomfort at discussing her condition so coldly reddened her cheeks. “But I can undertake to take the greatest care of any children I might bear you.”
He stood and held out his hand. “Thank you. The rest we can arrange with our lawyers.” She took his hand and his hold tightened. “Now come out from behind that desk and we will seal our bargain in the traditional way.”
When he kissed her, he did it with a thoroughness Annie could not help comparing to the way Gerald had kissed her. He’d lavished caresses, while Joseph banded his arms around her, holding her in place while he took his pleasure. Would he be that way in bed? Now she had more experience she recognized her late husband had been too gentle with her, and too careful. Gerald had ensured he pleased her. Joseph, she suspected, would please himself.
She could bear that, or try to show him what she wanted. At present, if he had essayed her, she would have merely waited for him to finish. She was letting another older man into her bed, one she did not want at all.
Her heart and her memory was filled with one man only, and it wasn’t the man currently in her arms. He cinched her so tightly she could barely breathe. She endured, even though she was seeing stars by the time he lifted his mouth from hers.
“Then we have a bargain, madam. We will set about the business immediately.”
CHAPTER TEN
Three weeks later
“DO YOU PREFER THE PINK, OR THE GREEN?” Holding two lengths of fabric before her, Elizabeth posed prettily for Gerald.
Gerald didn’t bother to suppress his sigh. “Either will do, Elizabeth. You are beautiful enough to wear both. You’re wealthy enough to buy both. Why does it have to be a choice?”
“Silly, this is for the bedroom. The one we will share in two weeks’ time.”
Gerald had managed to defer the wedding, thanks to a few details about his estate, and the settlement. His immediate heir, as matters currently stood, was a cousin. He considered himself a scholar, and spent most of his time abroad collecting massive marble statues and shipping them to his house. At least he had not landed any on Gerald yet, though he suspected, in time, he’d find himself in possession of a few Venuses and Jupiters. But he’d insisted his heir was informed. Fortunately the duchess, a stickler for protocol, had agreed with him. However the response, typically vague, had arrived yesterday, and he had run out of excuses.
He’d imagined by now, his memories of his one night with Annie Cathcart would have receded, but it was not so. Every night he dreamed of her, and woke with a hard and aching erection. He refused to ease it by visiting one of the many women who he had no doubt would receive the Earl of Carbrooke with open arms. Only one of those women would do, and her arms were forever closed to him.
He was going insane. Images of Annie haunted him day and night, until he could not remember what another woman was like. At first he’d put his obsession down to infatuation. He was three weeks in, and no nearer pushing her to the category of wistful memory, where she rightly belonged.
Now his betrothed, a beautiful, irritating woman stood before him offering to make everything he was striving for come true. Well, not everything.
They were in the back parlor of his London house, alone, as befitted betr
othed couples, with the door open, as Gerald insisted on. Kisses, however, were allowed now. Even the duchess coughed before she entered a room, though there was never any need for her to do so.
At first Gerald had pressed his attentions on her, within the bounds of propriety. After all, she was beautiful. All she had to do was be compliant. But when Elizabeth wound her arms around him he felt trapped, not desired, as if bindweed was her sister.
He kept giving her the benefit of the doubt. Now he bowed to her, and excused himself. “I’ll be but a minute,” he murmured, as if a visit to the necessary was called for.
Instead, he went upstairs, taking them two at a time, and strolled along the carpeted corridor to his sister’s room. He tapped gently on the door. “Dahlia?”
Her received silence in response, but he knew they were inside. “I heard you giggling. There are at least two of you in there.” He kept his voice down. After all, Elizabeth resided on the floor below.
The door opened a crack, and then widened. “Get in here,” his sister demanded. As he’d suspected, all three of them sat in the room, sitting around the occasional table, which had been drawn into the center of the floor.
“I need one of you to go downstairs and talk to Elizabeth.” He took his stance before the table, facing the lace-shrouded window.
“Why?” Dorcas asked. She spread her skirts and retook her seat.
“Because I can’t bear her talk of trousseaus any longer.”
“Well, that was to the point.” Delphi put her reading glasses on the table and leaned back in her chair. They must have dragged chairs in from other rooms, since they were mismatched, one powder blue, one sea green. They were prominently out of place in the ivory and aqua decorations. “Why should we put up with what you cannot?”
“Because you’re women.” That sounded feeble, even to his ears.
Seven Nights of Sin: Seven Sensuous Stories by Bestselling Historical Romance Authors Page 24