“Madam—”
“I almost forgot. I saw Lord Sutcliffe this morning. His secretary has given notice. I recommended your nephew. Have him present himself at Lord Sutcliffe’s house tomorrow morning at ten. Tell him that Lord Sutcliffe prefers a man of sincerity and few words.”
“That is too kind of you, madam!” Goodman exclaimed.
“He’s a promising young man.” She stopped before the library door. “On second thought, have Miss Etoile come in twenty minutes. And make sure no one disturbs me until then.”
“But your ladyship, his lordship—”
“His lordship will not be taking tea with me today.” She pushed the door open and realized Goodman was still there, hovering. She turned halfway and glanced at him. The butler wore a constipated expression. “What is it, Goodman? The back troubling you again?”
“No, madam, it’s not. It’s—”
“It’s me,” said a voice from inside the library. Her husband’s voice.
For a long, stunned moment, all she could think was how glad she was that she had not invited Freddie home with her today, as she often did after an afternoon walk together. Then she could not think of anything at all. Her headache faded, replaced by a mad rush of blood to her head. She was hot, then cold. The air about her turned thick as pea soup, fine for gulping but impossible to inhale.
Vaguely, she nodded at Goodman. “You may return to your duties.”
Goodman hesitated. Did he fear for her? She entered the library and let the heavy oak door close behind her, shutting out curious eyes and ears, shutting out the rest of the world.
The windows of her library faced west, for a view of the park. The still-intense sunlight cascaded through clear glass panes at an oblique angle and landed in perfect rectangles of warm clarity on her Samarkand carpet, with its poppies and pomegranates on a field of rose and ivory.
Tremaine stood just beyond the direct light, his hands braced against the mahogany desk behind him, his long legs crossed at the ankles. He should be a figure in relative obscurity, not particularly visible. Yet she saw him all too clearly, as if Michelangelo’s Adam had leapt off the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, robbed a Savile Row bespoke tailor, and come to make trouble.
She caught herself. She was staring, as if she was still that nineteen-year-old girl, devoid of depth but full of herself.
“Hullo, Camden.”
“Hullo, Gigi.”
She had allowed no man to call her by that childhood pet name since his departure.
Forcing herself away from the door, she crossed the length of the library, the carpet beneath her feet too soft, a quagmire. She marched right up to him, to show that she did not fear him. But she did. He held powers over her, powers far beyond those conferred by mere laws.
Even though she was a tall woman, she had to tilt her head to look him in the eye. His eyes were a dark, dark green, like malachite from the Urals. She inhaled his subtle scent of sandalwood and citrus, the aroma she had once equated with happiness.
“Are you here to grant me the divorce or to be a nuisance?” She got to the point right away. Trouble that was not confronted head-on always circled around to bite one in the bum.
He shrugged. He had taken off his day coat and his necktie. Her gaze lingered one second too long on the golden skin at the base of his neck. His shirt of fine cambric draped over him lovingly, caressing his wide shoulders and long arms.
“I’m here to set conditions.”
“What do you mean, conditions?”
“An heir. You produce an heir and I will allow the divorce to proceed. Otherwise I will name parties to your adultery. You do know that you cannot divorce me on grounds of adultery if you happen to have committed the same sin, don’t you?”
Her ears rang. “Surely you jest. You want an heir from me? Now?”
“I couldn’t stand the thought of bedding you before now.”
“Really?” She laughed, though she’d have preferred to smash an inkwell against his temple. “You liked it well enough last time.”
“The performance of a lifetime,” he said easily. “And I was a good thespian to begin with.”
Pain erupted inside her, corrosive, debilitating pain she’d thought she’d never feel again. She groped for mastery and shoved the subject away from where she was most vulnerable. “Empty threats. I have not been intimate with Lord Frederick.”
“How chaste of you. I speak of Lord Wrenworth, Lord Acton, and the Honorable Mr. Williams.”
She sucked in a breath. How did he know? She’d been ever so careful, ever so discreet.
“Your mother wrote me.” He watched her, evidently enjoying her mounting dismay. “Of course, she only wished for me to fly into a jealous rage and hurry across the ocean to reclaim you as my own. I’m sure you will forgive her.”
If there ever existed extenuating circumstances for matricide, this was it. First thing tomorrow, she’d set loose two dozen famished goats in Mrs. Rowland’s prized greenhouse. Then she’d corner the market on hair dyes and force the woman to show her graying roots.
“You have a choice,” he said amicably. “We can resolve it privately. Or we can have sworn testimonies from these gentlemen. You know every word they utter would be in all the papers.”
She blanched. Freddie was her very own human miracle, steadfast and loyal, loving her enough to willingly take part in all the hassle and ugliness of a divorce. But would he still love her when all her former lovers had testified to their affairs on public record?
“Why are you doing this?” Her voice rose. She took a deep breath to calm herself. Any emotion she displayed before Tremaine was a show of weakness. “I had my solicitors send you a dozen letters. You never responded. We could have had this marriage annulled with some dignity, without having to go through this circus.”
“And here I thought my lack of response adequately conveyed what I thought of your idea.”
“I offered you one hundred thousand pounds!”
“I’m worth twenty times that. But even if I hadn’t a sou, that’s not quite enough for me to stand before Her Majesty’s magistrate and swear that I never touched you. We both know perfectly well that our marriage was consummated—repeatedly.”
She flinched and grew hot. Unfortunately, not entirely from anger. The memories of that night—no, she would not think about it. She had already forgotten it. “This is about Miss von Schweppenburg, isn’t it? You are still trying to punish me.”
He gave her one of his cool stares that used to turn her knees to pudding. “Now, why would you think that?”
And what could she say? What could she say without dragging up their entire complicated and bitter history? She swallowed. “Fine,” she said, as indifferently as she could. “I have an evening engagement to keep. But I should be home about ten. I can permit you a quarter hour from half past ten.”
He laughed. “As impatient as always, my dear marchioness. No, tonight I will not be visiting you. I’m weary from my travels. And now that I’ve seen you, I’ll need a few more days to get over my revulsion. But rest assured, I shall not be bound by any asinine time limits. I will stay in your bed for as long as I want, not a minute less—and not a minute more, no matter how you plead.”
Her jaw dropped from sheer stupefaction. “That is the most rid—”
He suddenly leaned toward her and placed an index finger over her lips. “I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you. You will not enjoy eating those words.”
She jerked her head away, her lips burning. “I would not want you to remain in my bed if you were the last man alive and I’d had nothing but Spanish flies for a fortnight.”
“What images you bring to mind, my lady Tremaine. With every man in the world perfectly alive and no aphrodisiacs at all, you were already a tigress.” He pushed away from the desk. “I’ve had all I can take of you for a day. I wish you a pleasant evening. Do convey my regards to your beloved. I hope he doesn’t mind my exercises in conjugal rights.”
He left without a backward glance.
And not for the first time.
She watched the door close behind him and rued the day she first learned of his existence.
For your copy of Private Arrangements, click here. Readers who live outside North America, please click here.
More Books by Sherry Thomas
***
The Heart of Blade Series
The Hidden Blade
A girl training to be deadly, a boy on the run across continents. They do not know it yet, but their lives are already inextricably bound together.
My Beautiful Enemy
A lovely, lethal woman, a man audacious enough even for her, and a danger greater than any they have ever faced.
A NPR Best Book of 2014.
“A gripping, mesmerizing romance.” — Library Journal
The London Trilogy
The Luckiest Lady in London
An impoverished young lady who needs to marry well meets a man who couldn’t be more perfect for a husband. But when The Ideal Gentleman proposes, it is not to make her his wife, but his mistress. What is a girl to do? Well, this young lady will play the game only on her own terms.
A NPR Best Book of 2013.
“Transporting.” — New York Times Book Review
Private Arrangements
She lives in London, he lives in New York—and theirs is considered the perfect marriage. But what happens when she asks for a divorce?
A Publishers Weekly Best Book of 2008
“Steamy and smart…Deft plotting and sparkling characters mark this superior debut historical.” — Starred Review, Publishers Weekly
His at Night
A man who has perfected the art of pretending to be an idiot. A woman desperate enough to trap him into marriage. Imagine the wedding night.
Winner of Romance Writers of America’s Prestigious RITA® Award for Best Historical Romance of 2011.
“I find myself saying ‘OMG, I can’t believe how good this is’ with one part of my brain while the rest of it is saying ‘shut up and keep reading.’ Needless to say, this is an A read for me.” — Dear Author
The Fitzhugh Series
½. Claiming the Duchess (Free story)
Clarissa has exchanged hundreds of letters with her faithful correspondent. But who is J. M. K., exactly?
1. Beguiling the Beauty
A transatlantic crossing on a luxury ocean liner. A mysterious lady with vengeance on her mind. A duke who falls for the one woman he has sworn never to love.
“Complex, compelling characters, an unusual and emotionally powerful plot, and prose with the range and beauty of music—what more can a reader ask for?” — The Romance Dish
2. Ravishing the Heiress
Married: 8 years. Marriage consummated: 0 times. It changes: Now.
A Publishers Weekly Best Read of Summer 2012.
“Millie and Fitz’s marriage is one of the truest, most romantic, and most uplifting depictions I’ve read in a long, long time. And what can I say — Sherry Thomas rocks my world.” — All About Romance
2½. A Dance in Moonlight (Novella)
A heartbroken woman meets someone who looks almost exactly like the man she has lost. Come late at night, she tells him, so I can pretend that you are the one I love.
3. Tempting the Bride
He loves her. She loathes him. But now she will wake up and know him only as a handsome stranger.
A Library Journal Best Romance of 2012.
“Bottom line: this is the best Historical of 2012. If you read one Historical this entire year, even if you eschewed Historical in favor of another genre, you have to read Tempting the Bride.” — The Season
3½. The Bride of Larkspear (Novella)
The hero of Tempting the Bride does not write sonnets. Instead, he writes an erotic story for his beloved. This is that story.
The Marsden Brothers Series
Delicious
A man who would one day occupy 10 Downing Street. A woman who spends her life in the kitchen. A Cinderella story as you have never read before.
A Library Journal Best Romance of 2008.
“A sublime, fairy-tale inspired romance…an irresistible literary treat.” — Chicago Tribune
Not Quite a Husband
He was once her husband. Now he is only her companion and protector on the most dangerous journey of her life.
Winner of Romance Writers of America’s Prestigious RITA® Award for Best Historical Romance of 2010.
“A beautifully written, deeply moving story of romantic renewal and moral repair set against the backdrop of a heart-stopping journey across northwest India.” — Read React Review
Contemporary Romance
The One in My Heart
Can Eva save herself from falling for her fake boyfriend? Or is it already too late?
The Elemental Trilogy (Young Adult Fantasy)
The Burning Sky
The story of a girl who fooled a thousand boys, a boy who fooled an entire country, a partnership that would change the fate of realms, and a power to challenge the greatest tyrant the world had ever known. Expect magic.
“Thomas weaves a lush, intricate fantasy world around a gorgeous romance that kept me riveted until the very last page. What a breathtaking journey!”—Marie Lu, New York Times bestselling author of the Legend series
The Perilous Sea
A girl and a boy wake up in the Sahara Desert, unable to recollect who they are or how they got there. No past. No future. Only danger—and each other.
The Immortal Heights
Visions of their own deaths haunt Titus and Iolanthe. But even if they make the ultimate sacrifice, will it be enough?
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
The One in My Heart © 2015 by Sherry Thomas.
All rights reserved. Where such permission is sufficient, the author grants the right to strip any DRM which may be applied to this work.
Sexy contemporary romance, big city romance, New York City, Manhattan, Upper East Side, Upper West Side, Central Park, Italy, Amalfi Coast, Isle of Capri, death, loss, grief, family life, friendship, travel, doctor hero, scientist heroine, musician, photographer, filmmaker, television producer, Eton, Paris, one-night stand, fake boyfriend, fake girlfriend, fake relationship, pretend relationship
Table of Contents
Unnamed
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Private Arrangements: an excerpt
Chapter One
More Books by Sherry Thomas
Copyright
Unnamed
The One in My Heart Page 28