Even as he had the thought, he knew he was judging Gina unfairly, painting her with a brush that rightly belonged to her sister. Gina had done nothing to deserve his censure. He couldn’t fault her for wanting an English lord when so many were idolized because of their impeccable manners and good breeding. He knew a few American men, and while he enjoyed their company, he couldn’t deny they were a rough lot. Her uncle was a prime example. He worked hard, drank hard, played hard. Ironically, when it came to his nieces, however, he wanted things easy. Let another gent take the necessary actions to see the girl wed. For the price of a stud, Rexton had been willing. Was still willing. He just wished the girl didn’t always look so pleased to see him.
“Might I offer you something to drink, my lord?” she asked sweetly, and he knew her sister would have already had the whisky poured and in his hand. Would have joined him, her gaze never leaving his as she sipped, challenging him to find fault with her actions.
“No, thank you.”
“I’m certain Tillie won’t be much longer.”
“We have no schedule.”
“That’s what I told her when she was concerned about you having to wait.”
“She was concerned?” Of course, she would be. She wasn’t concerned about him in particular, simply the bad manners of not being ready on time.
“She doesn’t like to be a bother.”
Then she shouldn’t have had a quite public affair with a manservant. Although he did have to wonder: if she’d been married to him, would she have strayed? Did he possess the wherewithal to keep a woman such as she happy, content, and at his side? It was strange to realize he’d have embraced the challenge of it.
“I think she rather feared her tardiness would taint your opinion of me,” Gina said.
“I’m not in the habit of judging people based upon their familial relations.”
Her cheeks pinkened, and he imagined her sister’s blush would be a darker, richer hue. He suddenly wanted to see Lady Landsdowne blushing, wondered if the flush would travel over every inch of her skin. Did she even have it within her to blush?
“That’s obvious, my lord. Otherwise you’d have never shown me any attention. Most men aren’t as open-minded. They viewed me as unsuitable before I even attended my first ball.”
Telling her the truth, that he’d given her attention because of a damn stallion’s seed, was likely to bruise whatever self-esteem she had remaining. He cursed himself, cursed her uncle. He was going to find himself married to the girl if he didn’t give up his obsession with being in the company of Lady Landsdowne and begin searching for a replacement suitor in all earnestness. He’d been lax in his endeavors because Gina gave him access to Lady Landsdowne. Would the countess be open to his attentions if he wasn’t courting her sister? “I believe gents are coming around. You had a bit more attention at the ball last night.”
She batted her eyelashes at him. “Did it make you jealous?”
Not one iota but he couldn’t confess that. Before he could respond with some flirtatious harmless comment that neither confirmed nor denied any jealousy on his part, Lady Landsdowne swept into the parlor in a sea of red silk taffeta and satin that stole his breath, his reason, his attention. His vision narrowed until no one else occupied the room. It was only the two of them. He’d thought her beautiful before. At that moment, he realized a new word needed to come into being to describe her because every descriptive word in his vocabulary was insufficient. She was beyond striking, beyond gorgeous.
“Forgive my tardiness,” she stated matter-of-factly as though completely unaware of how easily she could mute a man.
He would forgive her tardiness, forgive her anything. He would wait until the end of time for her.
Bloody damned hell! What was wrong with him? She was dressed to seduce. She was a woman who had brought an earl to his knees and then a blasted footman. Who knew how many men had followed? She comprehended what she was about. She was testing him, testing his devotion to her sister. If he wanted the stallion, he was going to have to ignore Lady Landsdowne, imagine her dressed in unflattering widow’s weeds. At least for tonight, at least until he turned the girl over to someone else. “Not to worry. The one who holds my interest was here. That’s all that matters to me.”
The words came out so smoothly that perhaps he should consider the stage. He forced his legs to go in the direction of Gina, smiled at her, and offered his arm. “Shall we be off?”
For a moment, she seemed confused by his attention; then she smiled brightly. “Yes, absolutely. I’m quite looking forward to dinner.”
“Dinner is only the beginning,” he assured her.
“Oh?”
“It shall be a night for enjoying vices.” As he walked past Lady Landsdowne, her lavender and orchid fragrance wrapped around him, and he was keenly aware he wouldn’t be indulging in all vices. He already knew insisting she join them was a mistake, and yet he couldn’t seem to regret it.
Opulence didn’t begin to describe the dining room of the Twin Dragons. They’d used a door that allowed them to enter without passing through the gaming floor. When Gina had expressed disappointment at not seeing the more interesting aspects of the club, Rexton had simply laughed and promised her, “In due time.”
Tillie didn’t like the way his satisfied laughter caused pleasure to ripple through her, as though the sound was for her and her alone when in truth he’d directed it only at her sister. A liveried footman escorted them to a white cloth-covered table in the center of the dining room. That surprised her. She’d expected something a bit more intimate and shadowed where more secretive flirtations could occur, but then with her in tow, he wasn’t going to be able to get away with much so perhaps he simply wanted people to see the lovely lady who decorated his arm.
That was the impression she had, anyway. He was showing Gina off like some sort of prize he’d won at a country fair. Which she knew was totally unfair of her. He was doing everything right, behaving properly. She shouldn’t find fault with it. And yet, she did.
The gorgeous crystal chandeliers hanging from the vaulted ceiling did not give off much light. A tall candle burned in the center of the table, and she had to look over the flame to see him because he sat opposite her. Gina sat between them. Rexton was turned her sister’s way, leaning toward her as though he found her discourse on Jane Austen the most fascinating conversation he’d ever experienced, yet every now and then he slid his eyes toward Tillie and in that second, his gaze shifted from interested to smoldering. She told herself it was an illusion caused by looking at him through the flickering candle flame, and yet the heat that swamped her had nothing at all to do with a burning wick. It had everything to do with the way he could make her feel as though his true interest resided with her.
Then his eyes were back on Gina, and they seemed to cool, as though he were indulging a favorite cousin or sister. Was it just wishful thinking on her part, and why would she wish for his attention? If she could steal him away from Gina, then he wasn’t deserving of her sister—but was it worth hurting Gina to determine the truth, even though Gina had asked her to do precisely that?
She’d expected to be a good judge of his character; yet the emotions somersaulting through her only served to confuse her. Taking a sip of the excellent wine he’d procured for them helped calm her nerves and dulled her awareness of those surrounding them.
Suddenly he reached out and moved the candle aside.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“It obstructs my view, makes it more difficult to include you in the conversation.”
“You don’t have to include me. All your attention should be on Gina.”
“Not tonight. You’re here as my guest. It would be rude to ignore you completely.”
“I have no objection to your rudeness.”
The smile he gave her called her a liar. “But you’re judging me, and my suitability. Inclusion would make your job easier. Besides I’m curious. Do you agree with you
r sister that Mr. Darcy truly exists, that he was in fact a gentleman, a neighbor, whom Miss Austen favored but their love went unrequited?”
“I’m quite surprised you know who Mr. Darcy is. Have you ever read Pride and Prejudice?”
“I have. My sister was quite fond of the story when she was younger. The mischievous minx informed me that if I ever wished to win a lady’s heart I needed to follow Darcy’s example. Being young myself, and of a romantic bent, I was open to searching for the magic potion that would entice ladies to flock to me. I found him to be rather pompous.”
He had read a book in order to appeal to ladies? Did he not realize he had a natural charisma that could not be found between leather covers? That no doubt flourished between silk ones. “He is rather . . . prideful. Although he has his reasons, and in the end, he quite charmed Elizabeth, didn’t he?”
“But was he based on fact? Was he indeed Austen’s unrequited love?”
She glanced over at Gina, whose expression for some unfathomable reason was hopeful. “I suppose it makes the story more appealing to believe he did exist.”
“Do you find unrequited love romantic?”
“I find it tragic.”
“But I suspect there is a good deal of it,” Gina said. “Especially among the aristocracy. Your lot seldom marries for love, do they, my lord?”
He gave her an indulgent grin. “More often than not other considerations are placed above love.”
“Will you marry for love?” Tillie asked pointedly.
“Did you?”
The trap had been set, and she’d taken the bait, blast him. “We’re not here to discuss me.”
“Why not? My mother often says when one marries, one marries into a family. It seems I should know as much about you as I do of Gina.”
Gina’s eyes rounded, her lips parted slightly, at the hint he might indeed be offering marriage in the very near future. Rexton seemed not to notice as his gaze was homed in on Tillie and she feared he’d witnessed her stomach dropping to the floor with his pronouncement, his possible unintentional admission that he was seriously considering Gina for the role of future marchioness. Of course he was. He wouldn’t be courting her otherwise, wouldn’t have escorted her to the theater, wouldn’t have invited her to dine with him this evening. She didn’t know why she and her sister were having such odd reactions: disappointment on her part, surprise on Gina’s.
“In considering your decision, my lord, all you need to know about me is that I shall scarcely be in your lives. Once Gina is married, I shall be returning to New York.” She would begin her life anew there, leave behind this wretched existence.
Silence stretched between them. It was the only indication that her words had taken him off guard. His features seemed to be set in stone. Nothing moved. Not an eyelash fluttered, not a tick in the muscles below his sharp cheekbones, not a tightening of his chiseled jaw. Finally he leaned back as though coming to some resolution regarding her and directed his attention to Gina. “Were you aware your sister was leaving?”
Lips pressed together, sadness reflected in her eyes, Gina nodded. “Although I don’t know why she can’t stay here. People tonight don’t seem to be glaring at her as much as they did at the theater.”
“The glares have nothing to do with it,” Tillie lied. They had something to do with it, but not everything. “I’ve never been happy in this country.”
“So you’ve stayed only for me?”
Leaning across, she squeezed her sister’s hand and smiled. “Small sacrifice. As for the people surrounding us at the moment, they probably want to be noticed as little as we do. This is a den of vice after all.”
“A respectable den of vice,” Rexton pointed out.
She arched a brow at him. “You are aware that respectable and vice don’t go together very well.”
He grinned, and she wished she didn’t take pleasure in being the one responsible for lightening his mood. “You have a point, but there are much worse places where vice occurs, where a man can lose not only his purse but his life.”
“Frequent those places do you?”
“Let’s just say I’m aware of them. Ah, it seems our main course is arriving.”
They’d already enjoyed a vegetable soup as well as crabmeat smothered in a shrimp sauce. The beef tenderloins the waiter placed before her smelled delicious. String beans and potatoes were set on a separate plate beside the first. Tillie wasn’t disappointed with her first bite, nor was she surprised when Rexton ordered a second bottle of wine. She didn’t usually indulge so much, and it was making her a bit light-headed, but she was also enjoying the sensation.
“You’ll avoid those darker places once you’re married, won’t you?” Tillie asked casually, not about to let him get away with the simple answer he’d given.
“I suspect there’s a good many things I’ll avoid once I’m married,” he said equally casually.
“Other women?”
He wasn’t quite so stony faced this time when he met and held her gaze, but she didn’t think he was analyzing how best to answer but rather he was striving to determine what had prompted her question, trying to read something about her into it.
“Tillie,” Gina said, clear exasperation in her voice, “I know you have my best interests at heart, but can’t we just enjoy the night without putting his lordship through his paces?”
Only then did she realize she was being insufferable. He’d invited them to dinner, was being pleasant—willing to discuss Jane Austen when she suspected he’d rather discuss Mary Shelley—and had already indicated she was to enjoy herself. “My apologies, my lord. I tend to be overprotective where Gina is concerned.”
“No apologies needed. I suspect I’d have been the same if I’d been in the country when Lovingdon was courting my sister. I daresay, he and I would have enjoyed a bout or two of fisticuffs.”
“Where were you, my lord?” Gina asked before Tillie could.
Once more, he gave her an indulgent smile. “Traveling the continent with my brother.”
“I suspect you had a jolly good time together.”
“It was memorable.”
“Will you share some of your adventures?”
And just like that, Gina carried them away from any conversation that would cause tenseness around them. Tillie couldn’t help but think that Rexton was born to weave stories as his deep voice carried them through the canals in Venice, the Sistine Chapel, the Coliseum, vineyards, and the Alps. When she’d come to England at the age of eighteen, she’d considered it a marvelous adventure. She’d traveled to Paris in order to have her gowns made, but she’d never traveled beyond that. He made her yearn to see the world.
He made her long to see the world with him.
It was for the best that she was returning to America after her sister married. No, the bloody hell it wasn’t. Sipping on his wine, he wondered why he’d even had the thought that he’d prefer her in America. He wasn’t courting Gina—even though he’d inadvertently implied several times during the course of the evening he was in serious pursuit of a wife.
And a woman who had been unfaithful to her husband, was divorced, and had insulted the aristocracy by insisting she be addressed by her title was certainly not a contender for the position of Marchioness of Rexton, future Duchess of Greystone. Rexton had too much respect for his family and his heritage to bring such a fallen woman into their midst. But that didn’t mean he didn’t contemplate bedding her. He did—every second of every moment he was in her company.
“That was lovely,” Gina said as she set down her fork after finishing off the chocolate cake she’d requested for dessert. Lady Landsdowne had declined dessert and joined him in a brandy instead. She seemed to enjoy the flavor, and he envisioned her relishing all sorts of dark pleasures. “Everything was delicious.”
He wondered if Gina ever complained about anything, if she ever grew angry, if she ever threw a tantrum. She was the most pleasant, docile, accommodating woman he’d ever k
nown. He should be enthralled. He should, as Hammersley implied, decide she was the one for him. She was pretty enough. Bedding her would certainly be no hardship. Yet he could work up no enthusiasm for being in her company, thought he would expire from boredom if he took her to wife. He hated those thoughts, hated that he couldn’t treasure her as she deserved to be treasured, wondered if something was inherently wrong with him for finding himself irrevocably drawn to her notorious sister.
Christ, the things he would do with Lady Landsdowne, if given the chance. He would argue with her, he would tease her, he would tickle her. He would chase her, both of them stark naked, through his residence. When he caught her he would kiss her head to toe, front to back. He would take her slowly; he would take her quickly. He could take her gently; he would take her with enough enthusiasm they might break the bed. Hoping none of those thoughts traveled over his features, he finished off his brandy. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. The night is still young. Care for a little gaming?”
“I’d love to give it a try. What say you, Tillie?”
She appeared uncomfortable but then for most of the evening she hadn’t been completely relaxed, although the second bottle of wine seemed to have helped some, the brandy more. He wanted to see her when her walls weren’t up, when she seemed not to have a care, the way she’d been in the garden before she’d discovered he was watching her.
“I’m not certain that’s wise,” she said. “We’re likely to lose our shirts.”
An Affair with a Notorious Heiress Page 11