A Scandalous Request

by Micki Miller

  Without realizing it, Burke brushed his right thumb against the palm of his left hand. He could still feel the hard thud of his father’s fist when at last he’d grown big enough and brave enough to catch the thrown punch before it landed. In his mind, Burke could still see the stunned expression on his father’s face when he learned his son would no longer be the outlet for his anger.

  “She still sleeps with the pig beside her bed,” Ashton said. “It came through the ordeal undamaged. Baron Rutherford, however, had quite a gash in his head. It cost me a small fortune to gain his assurance of silence so as not to feed the gossipmongers and damage Rose’s reputation, and to keep him from having her dragged off to Newgate.”

  “Her own brother-in-law would dare to have her arrested when he was the one who attacked her? Quite the protector she had there.”

  “The man is a lecherous scoundrel,” Ashton replied, his distaste for Rutherford scrunching his face into a scowl.

  “What about the baron’s wife, Rose’s sister?”

  “Calling for the authorities was Edwina’s idea. Her relationship with brandy is more affectionate than her relationship with her sister. Rose had no other family to protect her. Her parents died when she was twelve. She was alone and without funds. Anyway, her situation was intolerable. We spent hours talking, and by sunrise we’d come to an arrangement which has worked well for both of us.”

  “Marriages of convenience are hardly unusual,” Burke said with a shrug. “You care for each other. Such a situation is more than many can claim.”

  “We do care for each other, very much so. But our relationship, well, it is but a friendship. A very close one, I’ll say, but it will never be more, I can assure you. My interests…lie elsewhere.”

  The viscount then flicked a subtle glance to his left before casting hooded eyes down at his half-gone glass of brandy. He lifted his drink halfway to his lips, but set it back on the table without taking a sip.

  Burke searched the direction the viscount had looked. A small gathering of men and women were involved in a discussion. Sennett could have been referring to any one of the three women in the group. Perhaps he’d fallen in love with another before he married Rose. If such were the case, though, why had he not married the woman? He was a man of means. It would not have been a strain for Sennett to help his friend.

  “The fact is,” Ashton continued. “Rose and I would no more share a bed than we would if we were born siblings. We are simply not attracted to each other as lovers. It would be…beyond awkward, for both of us.”

  “Are you telling me you two have never so much as consummated your marriage?” Burke asked, astonished at the very notion.

  Ashton gave him a level look and said, “My wife remains a virgin. I find my carnal enjoyments elsewhere. Rose deserves the same. She deserves to know the pleasures of a woman. She is yet too innocent to understand what she is missing.”

  Sennett paused then, perhaps giving Burke time to absorb his words. It made no sense. Friendship or not, she was his wife. Burke spared another glance toward the gathering where Sennett’s lover must be standing. Perhaps he was faithful to his mistress. The whole set of circumstances was beyond strange.

  “By the bye,” Ashton continued. “Rose knows nothing of this proposal I’ve put forth to you. If she knew, I fear she would be humiliated, and I will not have that. And,” he said with another one of those self-deprecating smiles, “she would be past furious with me, I can tell you. She must never know about any of this, regardless of your decision. I’ll have your word.”

  Burke gave his solemn agreement with a nod. As Sennett reiterated, Burke shifted his gaze to Lady Sennett.

  “So, I will submit my request once again, Darington,” said Lord Ashton Sennett. “Will you seduce my wife?”

  ****

  Rose was still smiling when Lady Emory spun away in a swirl of pink and white taffeta to go and find her husband. Adele told her if she didn’t get some food down his gullet to join the wine he’d already consumed, she would need at least two footmen to load him into their carriage. Rose shifted her attention to the soiree Ashton had been so astute in arranging.

  The guests all appeared to be having a splendid time. The servants were at their best, their uniforms fresh and crisp, diligent in making sure there was plenty of food and drink, and every single one of their guests wanted for nothing.

  Even Stefon, Ashton’s curt butler, made an effort to be pleasant toward her. It was pure performance, but who was she to complain? Fortunately, Stefon was the only member of the household staff who was having trouble accepting her in residence, but he had many subtle ways of making her aware of his displeasure. Not tonight, though. The party Ashton had planned down to the last detail was perfect.

  Rose cast her gaze about the elegant ballroom, thinking to pluck up her husband for a dance before the musicians took their respite. Her dear, sweet Ashton had expended much effort, seeing to it she was well versed in all the dances. He’d been more than generous at making up for the various lessons her family should have provided. They’d had a great many laughs at her early attempts to learn all the steps.

  Ashton, bless his big heart, never once complained about the bruises she must have left on his poor toes. She’d learned all the moves, though, thanks to his endless patience and persistence. Now it was time to try out her new skills on the dance floor. The presentation would do well for the evening. After all, it was part of the reason they’d married.

  With her first cursory search, Rose caught sight of Ashton sitting nearby. She took only brief note of her husband before her eyes met and locked onto the other man at the table, a man she’d never seen before. At this point, Rose believed she had met all of London’s aristocracy. She was positive no one had ever introduced her to this man. He had not the appearance of a man a woman would forget.

  He was broad shouldered, and tall, taller than any other man in the room, she guessed. Even seated, he had a strong, powerful look about him. Ashton appeared almost childlike across the small table from him.

  Although the stranger wore a very dignified, crisp white lawn shirt and black tailcoat, his white cravat starched to perfection and tied with impeccable care, he still bore an underlying, untamed quality. He reminded Rose of a story her mother used to tell her when she was a little girl, a story of the wolf who came to supper.

  His midnight hair was a bit longer than customary, the dark ends disappearing against his black coat. It added to the feral quality inferred by his size. Unlike most of the men in the room whose faces were pale, the sun had given this man’s skin a tint of bronze. The coloring lent a harsh feature to his appearance. Or maybe it was the force of a characteristic showing through.

  Between his strong jaw and straight nose was a mouth curved upward in a very slight grin, directed at her.

  Rose didn’t understand what could have possibly brought that on, but she had a sudden desire to slip from the room. It was the stranger’s eyes, dark and intense, holding her in place as firmly as a solid grip. It took a tremendous effort to wrench her fascination away from the man and shift her gaze toward her husband.

  Ashton was smiling at her, though she wondered at the mischief tinging his countenance. She’d seen that look before, like the night he proposed their marriage. Her husband’s expression left her somewhere between laughter and wariness. She never knew what kind of outrageousness would spring from his mind.

  The gown she wore, for example. It was elegant, beautiful, and well-fitted, flaring at her hips to show enough of her form, but not too much. The emerald flattered her hair, so said Ashton when he helped her choose the fabric. According to him, the cut was a fine compliment for her figure.

  Their disagreement came with the fabric in the front of the gown, or rather, the lack of fabric. It was so low it was near to indecent. She fixed it, though, with a fine, Brussels lace fichu. Her placement of the fichu rankled Ashton, but he didn’t make a fuss about it. By then he was worn out from the difference of
opinion they’d had over the first gown he had made for her to wear this evening. Now that was indecent.

  The silver gown, far too snug over her hips, with endless gossamer flounces around the skirt and a deep show of décolletage nothing short of scandalous, would never leave her armoire.

  When Rose smiled back at her husband, she made sure she drew her brows together in the slightest and tipped her head just a bit to the side so he could see her unspoken question. Who was this man, and why was he staring at her so?

  Ashton stood then and held out his hand.

  As she approached the table, the other man rose. Standing, the stranger was even taller than she first thought. His shoulders were broader up close, too. His body had a clear, solid build, without any excess of flesh she could see. In combination with features one would be just in calling him ruggedly handsome. He was by far the most masculine man she had ever seen.

  Rose dragged her gaze upward. His eyes were as green as her dress, but several shades darker. She could see flecks of gold sparkling in the depth of color. When he focused them on her own, with an intensity close to overwhelming, an odd quiver rolled through her stomach.

  “Darling,” Ashton said to Rose upon her arrival at the table. “I’d like you to meet Lord Darington, Earl of Blackwood. You’ve not met, but you have heard me speak of him.”

  “Yes, of course, Lord Darington,” Rose said, greeting the man she thought she never would meet.

  It was no secret Lord Darington’s brilliance made him a great success in his business dealings. Rose also understood he was a bit of a recluse. It was considered a boon were he to appear at one’s function. Other than those two things however, she knew near to nothing about the man. Even the most profuse of gossips had little to say about him.

  “Lady Sennett,” the earl said in a voice as rich and as smooth as Ashton’s finest brandy. Lord Darington took up her offered hand in his and brushed a light kiss over her knuckles.

  Her hand all but disappeared in the mass of his hold. Though the earl’s touch was gentle, Rose found his sheer size, coupled with his mystique, left her a bit unsettled. She wished she’d brought a cup of punch with her, as her mouth was suddenly dry.

  Rose gave herself a mental shake. She was being silly. Lord Darington was just a man, and Ashton had seen to it she was forever safe from all men. Rose folded her hands in front of her, noting how warm her fingers were where Lord Darington had touched her.

  “Please, sit with us, love,” Ashton said, scooting out one of the carved, high-backed chairs for her.

  She hesitated for a bare moment before sitting. Once the men seated themselves, Rose said, “You have quite the reputation, Lord Darington.”

  In an instant, a grin curved his sculpted lips and he said, “Do I?”

  “Oh, yes. Ashton has nothing but praise for you and your aptitudes.”

  The subtle glance the two men exchanged made Rose wonder. Then, from the corner of her eye, she was sure she saw Ashton respond to the earl with a small, confounded shrug. What a curious thing.

  She continued to speak to Lord Darington. “My husband once told me your skills are the best.”

  The earl’s smile broadened and he appeared to be amused, which made no sense at all. Nothing she said was the least bit humorous. Then, her husband was stuck with a sudden bout of coughing she could swear covered a laugh.

  “Ashton, are you all right?” she asked.

  Her husband cleared his throat and said, “Yes, dear.”

  Rose returned her attention to Lord Darington. “My husband also said you have the sharpest business mind he’s ever come across.”

  “Ah, business aptitudes,” Ashton said, clearing his throat again over what sounded very much like a chuckle.

  “And skills,” Lord Darington added.

  “Yes, yes that’s true, love,” Ashton said.

  “He’s very kind,” Lord Darington replied.

  She could swear the man repressed a smile. Ashton shared a similar expression. Before she could question her husband, Ashton said, “Lord Darington and I were just discussing the merits of an open mind.”

  “An open mind?”

  “Yes, love. Wouldn’t you agree it is an advantage for one’s life experiences to be open to, well, life’s experiences?”

  Addressing Lord Darington, Rose said, “My husband is a bit of an adventurer. He’s traveled to a great many places already.”

  “And you?” Lord Darington asked.

  His smooth voice was coarsened with a trace of gravel. The velvet roughness brushed up her spine.

  “I take my comforts in hearth and home,” she said.

  “Yes,” Ashton said. “Rose is happy to spend her days working with the children at the foundling home, as well as reading and walking through the gardens. She has a great fondness for nature.”

  Lord Darington nodded. “I too enjoy the outdoors. There’s nothing like fresh air to clear one’s mind.”

  Rose smiled at him. “I quite agree. Too much time indoors suffocates the soul. Besides, every season has so much to offer. The colors of autumn are always breathtaking. I love a walk in the brisk winter air, and when the roses and the buttercups are in bloom and the trees begin to flower, well, I think nature is just wondrous.”

  “At least you’re now remembering to carry your parasol,” Ashton said. To Lord Darington he said, “She tends to freckle, so fair is her skin.”

  Blushing, Rose changed the subject. “Lord Darington, I hope you are enjoying yourself this evening.”

  “Your party will get rave reviews, I’m sure.”

  “Thanks to Rose,” Ashton said.

  “Oh, don’t let my husband fool you. He can plan an event better than anyone in all of London.”

  “My wife flatters me. It is her influences that beget warmth and welcome.” Facing Rose, he said, “You’ll be happy to hear the earl has pledged a hefty donation to the Foundling Project.”

  “Oh, Lord Darington, how very kind of you,” Rose said, clasping her hands before her. “The building in which the children now reside is dreadful beyond repair. They are so young and have so little. At the very least, they deserve a decent place to live. Your contribution will hasten the construction of the new building we have planned. Thank you.”

  “I’m happy to see my money put to good use.”

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Ashton said, coming to his feet. “I see Lewis waving at me. I’m afraid I’ve been putting off Lord Da Ville all evening and he’s insisted he has some matter, brief, but of great importance to discuss with me. I’ll be back shortly.” With a final glance at Lord Darington, Ashton strode away.

  Rose stared at her husband as he left and thought to box his ears later for abandoning her with a man she’d only just met. At the insistence of good graces, she gave her attention back to Lord Darington.

  His clean-shaven chin rested on the back of his fingers of one hand as he leaned back in his chair, elbow on the armrest. Aside from being such a large man, she found his gaze disconcerting. He gave the impression there was more to the workings of his mind than polite conversation, as if he had many thoughts churning at once. Yet, his sharp attention penetrated it all to focus on her. It took some focus of her own to gather herself enough to speak.

  “Thank you, Lord Darington,” she repeated. “Your donation will do much good.”

  Brushing past her gratitude with the slightest of nods, Lord Darington asked, “Have you chosen a place to build?”

  “There is a perfect plot of land on Vant,” Rose told him. “It’s vacant of any structures and overgrown. The owner seems to care naught for it, yet he is being rather stubborn about selling.”

  The earl lowered his hand to the glossy table and tapped a forefinger a couple of times. “Are you referring to the acreage near Wexler Street?”

  “Yes, that’s the one. It’s far enough from the factories so the air is free of soot. And a good distance from any tavern. Their young eyes have already seen more than children
should. Even with the building on the land, there would still be plenty of room for them to play outdoors. They have very little space where they are now. I so had my heart set on that parcel of land. The sad truth is, I’m beginning to lose hope he’ll sell.”

  “That land is owned by Lord Cavendish, I believe.”

  “Yes. He told me it’s been in his family for ages. He claims to be indecisive about letting it go. I’ve a strong feeling the stubbornness to which he is clinging isn’t due to any sentimentality, but rather the prospect of squeezing every possible shilling from us. And it’s such a worthy cause,” Rose said.

  A beat later, she continued in resignation. “I suppose I’ll have to give in to my husband’s offer and let him try to bargain with Lord Cavendish. I wanted to handle this matter myself. But the man seeks to take advantage of me because I am a woman, I just know it.”

  “Most women wouldn’t have attempted to strike a business deal on their own to begin with.”

  Fire flashed within Rose, igniting the rise of her temper. Before it overrode her good manners, the earl spoke. He said the last thing she expected to hear, from him or any man.

  “Why don’t you try him again?”

  Rose blinked. “I beg your pardon.”

  “Make your proposal once more. I just so happen to know Lord Cavendish is at present in need of funds.”

  “Is that so?” Rose said, her words churning out slow and distant as her contemplations prompted the development of more.

  Lord Darington tipped his head. “But a man has his pride.”

  “Perhaps if I approach him again,” Rose continued after a good stretch of thought. “But this time, play to his heartstrings in regards to the children instead of trying to bargain hard, as a man might. It would soothe his male pride; bolster it, even. Perhaps bestowing on him a feeling of benevolence may guide him toward accepting a woman’s business proposal.”

  Lord Darington smiled at her. The expression touched the depths of his eyes, making the gold flecks glitter within the green. She couldn’t help but smile back.