He arched an eyebrow. “We shall see what happens by the end of the week. For now, I intend to see this through.”
He had that implacable look again, so she nodded. “Mr. Brayden, what are your thoughts on our next step? Since we are obliged to see each other anyway, I was hoping we might spend some time testing out the advice in The Book of Love. But we don’t have to if you’re opposed to the idea.”
“Not at all. It could be useful.” He cast her a wry smile. “I’ve never been in love before. I’d be curious to know what it entails.”
She nodded, relieved he was being so reasonable. “Poppy, she’s my sister and now married to the Earl of Welles, insisted I read it before I started my round of balls and soirees. She and her friends, Olivia and Penelope, claim it is magical.” She shook her head and laughed. “We’ll certainly need a bit of magic to get ourselves out of this fix.”
Although the way Romulus was looking at her just now, he did not seem to be in any particular hurry to extricate himself from their betrothal. There was something utterly devastating about his gaze, a mix of tender and steaming. She quite liked the way he was looking at her.
This man would melt her insides if she weren’t careful.
He made her feel beautiful, but she couldn’t possibly be. Not with bright pink welts on her nose, chin, and all along her neck and shoulders. And her scent. Good grief! Even though she’d rubbed herself down with oatmeal soap, she had been unable to completely rid herself of the vinegar odor.
She was hardly alluring.
He had welts all over his body, but his clothes now covered those. He did not seem to have any on his face. It was unmarred and strikingly handsome.
“Mr. Brayden–”
“Romulus will do.”
“Romulus…um, forgive me. Really? That sounds quite intimate. Would you prefer if I call you Captain Brayden? Or Commander Brayden?”
His smile was also devastating. “Romulus, now that we are betrothed. I know you are not pleased by the idea. Think of it as merely being friendly, for I hope that is what we shall be. Friends, at the very least. Save Captain Brayden or Mr. Brayden for when we are in company. As for me, I prefer the informality. Violet is a pretty name. It suits you.”
She laughed. “My eyes. I know. My parents dressed me in violet clothes, decorated my bedchamber in shades of violet. All my life, everywhere I’ve turned, there was something violet.”
“Ah, then I shall hold off on my suggestion.”
She tipped her head, curious as to what he meant.
“I was going to offer to redecorate one of the bedchambers in my house to suit your tastes. I had thought to have it done in shades of purple, but I see now you would prefer something completely different for your quarters.”
“My quarters?” Was he suggesting they would not share a bedchamber if they married? “Mr. Brayden–”
“Romulus.”
She sighed. “Romulus, this may sound quite forward…”
“You may tell me whatever is on your mind. Why are you frowning?”
“I did not realize I was.” She clasped her hands together, hoping to appear composed, but her blush probably gave her away. Her face tended to turn a bright, strawberry red when she was embarrassed…which she was now. “I hadn’t thought about sleeping arrangements if we were to marry.”
“I’m sure there’s lots we ought to be thinking about. We’ll have the week to figure it all out.”
“I don’t need a week for this. You see, Farthingales make love matches…”
“And?” He arched an eyebrow, appearing quite wicked and taking unnecessary delight in her discomfort. “Violet, you will cut off the circulation in your fingers if you grip them any tighter.”
She looked up at him in dismay. “The thing of it is…it doesn’t seem right…that is, what is the advantage to having separate sleeping quarters near each other? Is there any?”
“Oh, I see. You prefer privacy. I can set you up at the opposite end of the hall, if that is what you wish. I just thought…never mind.”
Her heart sank. She wasn’t getting her point across at all. “What if I wish for other arrangements?”
His eyes rounded and then his gaze turned wary. “Do you mean you would not wish us to reside under the same roof?”
“Oh, no. I should hope we do live together.”
“But not near each other and not at separate ends of the hall? I’m not certain I understand your question. Do you wish to be close or far?”
“Close.”
He nodded. “Our rooms will adjoin, if you like. You won’t need to walk into the hall to enter my chamber. I won’t put a lock on the door between our rooms. You may enter whenever you wish. Or if you prefer a lock, I can have one put in.”
She shook her head. “But that is the problem. The chamber is yours.”
He ran a hand through his hair, now looking more confused than ever. “And you will have yours. As I said, right next to mine, if you wish. Or at the opposite end of the hall. The choice is yours. And you may decorate it any color you choose.”
She took a deep breath. “Is there any reason why we cannot share a bedchamber?”
His entire body tensed, and he appeared to have stopped breathing. “Share?”
“Yes.” She thought she was being clear on this point, but he was frowning and shaking his head as though still confused. “This is done in my family,” she continued, realizing it was best simply to make the demand. The worst he could do was refuse. “Farthingale husbands and wives share sleeping quarters…they share a bed.”
She thought she heard him choking.
He cast her such a puzzled look, she couldn’t tell whether he was about to burst out laughing or give her a blistering lecture. “Are you saying you wish to share my bed?”
How many times had she mentioned the word ‘share’ already? Did she have to hit him over the head with the suggestion? And how had they gotten on this intimate conversation? Oh, she supposed she’d brought it up. As Lady Exmoor said, better to be honest. “Yes. Share. Unless you’d rather not.” She looked up at him. “I don’t know about such matters. I just thought… Well, because this is what my family does. This is how they’ve always…” Her voice trailed off. She wasn’t going to say it aloud. What would he think of her if she just blurted that she wanted to sleep with him?
“Violet…” Now he was laughing at her.
She rose. “Obviously, I should not have brought it up.”
He took hold of her hand and would not release it when she tried to walk to the house. More like run back inside, if he would let her. “You mistake me,” he said, obviously holding back a burst of laughter. “I think it is an excellent idea.”
“You do?” It was her turn to be wary, for she feared he was about to mock her.
“I’m glad you raised it. We shall do as you suggest.” He nodded. “It is settled. No separate bedchambers. You’ll share my bed.”
“Oh, thank you.”
“Sweet mercy, you don’t have to thank me.” Was he sweating? It wasn’t all that warm. Although she was starting to feel a little uncomfortable under the intensity of his gaze. She eased her hand out of his grasp and hugged her shawl a little tighter about her shoulders as a hot shiver coursed through her. It made little sense. One shivered when one was cold.
Apparently, not always.
She could use a fan about now.
Her insides felt quite hot.
The burning look in his eyes was setting her on fire. “Any other demands, Violet?”
Chapter Four
“I don’t know, Mr. Brayden…er, Romulus. I might have other demands. Not really demands, merely requests. Must I list them right away? There may be more, but I’m new to this betrothal business. I hadn’t expected to be dealing with it so soon.”
Romulus knew he wasn’t being fair, but there was something wonderful about Violet, and he just liked being in her company and hearing her talk. She was being far more reasonable than he deserved
. Yes, he’d come to her rescue, his first thought being to pull her out of harm’s way from that swarm of bees. But his second, third, and fourth thoughts once he’d gotten her into his kitchen and started unlacing her gown?
Lord help him! All he could think then was how fast could he get the gown off her exquisite body and begin exploring every delectable inch of her with his hands, lips, and…yes, he was going straight to hell for this…with his tongue.
He wanted to touch and taste her everywhere.
He wanted to hear her soft, breathy, responsive moans.
Lady Withnall knew exactly what he’d been thinking, and the harridan was not going to let him get away with his sinfully evil desires without making him pay for it. So, while everyone else was willing to sweep his bad behavior under the rug and breathe a sigh of relief for avoiding the close call, the old, gossiping bat was determined to air it out for all the world to see just how lecherous and depraved he truly was.
But he wasn’t, or rather, he had never been before. This wasn’t at all in his nature. Perhaps it was all those bee stings that had made him daft. Perhaps it was just Violet. There was an undefinably appealing quality about her. He couldn’t explain what it was, only that she stirred him as no other woman ever had.
She was soft to the touch and spectacular to look at, but the same could be said of other ton beauties. Even her voice did odd things to him, as though she spoke to something deep within his soul.
How silly that sounded, but he would not deny her sultry lilt affected him. He was like one of those hapless heroes in myth, lured toward the rocky shoals by her siren call.
Gad, even her innocence was alluring.
Not to mention her perfect breasts or the perfect way they’d been heaving as he’d unlaced her.
No, he wouldn’t mention it.
He would blot it from his memory…if only he could.
“I’ll have to ask Aunt Sophie about what else I might need. Not that sleeping with you is a…” Oh, heavens. “…need.” Her sigh came out more as a groan. “What terms did you agree upon with my uncle?”
“Financial terms only,” he said, nudging her back down on the bench and settling beside her even though he knew it was a mistake, for everything about this girl set him on fire. “We did not think to discuss sleeping arrangements.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” She was blushing again.
He wanted to kiss her, but Lady Withnall would have his hide if he did it now. “We agreed upon your allowance and your inheritance rights should anything happen to me.”
She fidgeted with her shawl as she gazed up at him, obviously feeling uncomfortable and blaming herself for their predicament. “It sounds awfully mercenary. I am truly sorry. You know I wish this had never happened.”
“I know. It isn’t your fault.” He stretched his legs in front of him. Although it was a long bench, it suddenly seemed small for the two of them. He was big, and she was this delicious morsel seated beside him and unknowingly shooting flames through his body. “Your uncle is right to worry about your future. I have no doubt James will always look after you if something were to happen to me, but you are my responsibility now, and I do not intend to leave you penniless.”
“You hardly need worry about that. My family will never abandon me.”
He was not pleased by her desire to impose on him as little as possible. He’d been caught behaving badly, fair and square. He thought he’d feel angry or frustrated, but couldn’t seem to rouse even a dollop of indignation.
He was beginning to think of himself as fortunate. He’d known Violet only a few hours, but he liked her very much already. Not just her body that had him convulsed in a shark-like frenzy every time he looked at her. But if he thought of the entirety of her, she was amiable, caring, and probably quite intelligent, in addition to being beautiful.
He already knew she was nothing like the spoiled, pampered diamonds of the ton who were often paraded in front of him at those mind-numbing balls and supper parties. Nothing warmed a man’s heart more than knowing he’d been thoroughly investigated and the woman being introduced to him already knew the size of his purse and how much gold he had in his teeth.
Violet was quite possibly the one, true diamond among these supposed gems.
“I see no reason to make myself an obligation to you,” she said, interrupting his musings. “I am quite capable of remaining independent. You need not fear, I shall not be left destitute if you fail to provide for me. If we must marry, I have no intention of becoming a clinging vine.”
But she would sleep in his bed?
Allow him to claim his husbandly rights?
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair once more. “Neither of us is used to this betrothal business. I did not mean to insult you or your family. I just wanted you to know that I will not shirk in my duty to you. I will take care of you, no matter what your family chooses to provide for you.”
She frowned.
“Violet, why are you not happy about this?”
“I don’t know exactly,” she admitted. “You’re offering me everything. I don’t wish to seem ungrateful, but I can’t help feel that it is all to my advantage.”
“I gain from it, too. A beautiful, caring wife. I could do a lot worse for myself.”
“But don’t you think something is missing?”
He leaned back and extended his arms across the back of the bench. “What do you feel is missing?”
“I haven’t worked it out yet. This marriage business doesn’t sit well with me. Perhaps I’ll understand it better once I’ve finished reading The Book of Love.”
“Ah, yes. That book.” He closed his eyes and leaned his face toward the sun. Just what he needed, some ancient, dead author’s advice on how to satisfy one’s wife. Blessed saints. Was this book about the erotic acts of sex?
His eyes shot open, and he stared at Violet.
She returned his gaze. Smiling. Unruffled.
No, this book could not be about that. Could it?
The girl would not be looking at him with the innocent calm of a churchyard angel if it were. And Lord help him if it was all about the naked positions he could get into with Violet. He’d be dead by Sunday, his heart exploded and his male parts shriveled from wear.
No, the book had to be about finding romantic happiness with one’s wife. Or one’s husband, for her part. He wanted to dismiss those ridiculous notions of abiding love and contentment out of hand. But in truth, it was exactly what he needed, wasn’t it? “Let’s go over the book tomorrow. How about we meet right here after lunch?”
“All right. But I could meet you earlier if you prefer.”
“No, I’ll be interviewing staff and supervising some furniture deliveries tomorrow morning. Oh, and I owe you a new pair of spectacles since I crushed yours under my boot.”
“I’ll get the spectacles.” She chuckled lightly. “It isn’t a rush. My eyesight isn’t all that bad. I use them mostly to chase men away.”
He regarded her with some surprise. “Why would you want to do that? Aren’t you here to find yourself a husband?”
She nodded. “But I’d rather do it at my own pace. I was looking forward to spending this first year as…” She cleared her throat. “As an impossibly hopeless wallflower.”
He laughed. “Violet, a man would have to be as dead as a doorknocker to overlook your beauty. You can’t hide it. Even if you tried, it wouldn’t work. If I may be honest with you, men don’t always look at a girl’s face first. Your body is not something you can easily hide from a man’s discerning eye.”
He worried that he might have been too crude and insulting, but her eyes lit up. “That is amazing! This is exactly what the author of The Book of Love suggests. Did you know that a man’s brain functions differently than a woman’s brain?”
Romulus grinned at her. “No, I did not. But it doesn’t surprise me. How are they different?”
Her eyes were sparkling, and her smile was entrancing. Lord, he could wake
up to Violet each morning once they were married. Did that little termagant, Phoebe Withnall, know this when she gave them a week to sort themselves out? He’d wanted to throttle her two hours ago, but it could be that he ought to be kissing her in gratitude.
Of course, he’d much rather be kissing Violet’s rosebud lips. He shook out of the thought and concentrated on Violet’s words as she began to explain the difference between men and women. Bless those differences.
Bless her lightly heaving, perfect chest.
“A man’s brain functions on two levels, the low brain and the high.” She glanced up at him, looking rather pleased with herself.
Ah, yes. Low brain function. When it came to Violet, his thoughts were surprisingly dug deep in that low ditch. But he schooled his expression, allowing nothing more than the arch of his eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
Her cheeks now had a soft pink stain on them. “The author suggests that a man first assesses a woman’s body to determine whether or not she’s healthy enough to bear his offspring. This is an important part of his low brain function. But I think I ought to leave the rest of the explanation for tomorrow when we discuss the book in greater detail. I’m sure we’ll find it very helpful.”
“It sounds intriguing. Even a little horrifying.”
“It is quite scientific.” She nodded with enthusiasm. “You mentioned you were going to interview staff tomorrow. May I help?”
“Yes, if you’d like.”
She emitted a light breath. “Yes, I would. Very much.”
He smiled, actually looking forward to her company as he went about this task. “The first scheduled appointment is for ten o’clock in the morning. Is that too early for you?”
“Not at all. I’m usually up with the sunrise. These late town hours are not for me. I’ll be ready and will come over at ten.”
“Bring your maid with you.”
“Oh, do you wish for her opinion as well?”
He chuckled. “No, I wish for a chaperone for you. I don’t think Lady Dayne will be up and about that early. We’re in enough of a mess as it is. If Lady Withnall, that old gossip, suddenly grows a heart and decides to keep our bee escapade a secret, I don’t wish us to create another scandal that will be impossible to overlook.”
Regency for all Seasons: A Regency Romance Collection Page 73