‘Yet. Not yet. But you’d like to be,’ William continued, standing in front of the big desk and trying to look so very grown up with his jaw set in a most serious expression.
‘I’d like you to have a mother, William,’ Riordan answered with equal seriousness. ‘Wouldn’t that be nice?’ He hoped William wouldn’t hear the missing pieces in that statement.
William nodded. ‘If she were the right person that would be very nice, Uncle.
But she’d have to be someone all of us liked.’
‘That would be best,’ Riordan acceded. Probably not possible given the looming deadline. He studied William’s face, watching the boy gather his thoughts. There clearly was something more the boy wanted to say. ‘Of course, I haven’t found anyone,’ Riordan offered encouragingly. Perhaps William was worried he’d settled on someone.
William’s features shifted into hesitant brightness. ‘May I make a suggestion?’
‘A suggestion?’ Riordan covertly scanned the room with his eyes, half-expecting to see a woman emerge from the panelling dressed in a wedding gown. What kind of a woman would an eight-year-old boy know?
‘Six,’ William said simply and Riordan knew he didn’t mean to make six suggestions. In their house, there was only one Six.
‘Six?’ Riordan repeated as coolly as he could. Maura. The children were definitely smarter than he realised.
‘Well? Why not?’ William warmed to his argument. ‘She’s a lot of fun, she actually likes us and she likes you. Cecilia asked her at the exhibit yesterday and she said she did.’ William paused and looked at his feet before going on. ‘You like her, too. That makes her perfect.’
Riordan raised his brows at this last. ‘Why do you think I like her?’ Heavens knew what else William had picked up on. It was a novelty getting love advice from an eight-year-old.
‘We saw you kissing her the night of the party,’ William confessed with a blush, as well he should blush. It had been a hell of a kiss. ‘So? Why not marry Six and make all of us happy?’
Riordan shook his head. ‘It’s not as simple as all that.’ How did he explain this tangle to the boy without being alarming? Without looking like a terrible example to William? Even rogues had rules and he’d broken most of them since meeting Maura.
‘Yes, it is,’ William replied. ‘You just have to ask her. What’s so hard about that?’
Riordan laughed. ‘Spoken like a man who’s never yet had to propose. You can tell me the answer to that in about twenty years.’
His humour was lost on William, who was absorbed in his single-minded mission. ‘So? Will you do it?’ William pressed.
Riordan didn’t have an answer. ‘Why don’t you get back to the nursery before Six comes looking for you?’ Then, before William could ask him again, Riordan said, ‘I’ll think about it, Will.’
Good lord, how the mighty had fallen. The man who could make a woman climax at fifteen feet was getting advice from a child. It was quite the new experience, especially when he had no answer for Will. Why not Maura? The longer he thought about it, the more he liked the idea.
Riordan fished out the invitation from beneath his blotter. He had a better suspicion now who and what was behind this. He pulled out his watch. Five o’clock. Just enough time to make himself presentable or was it ‘proposable’?
*
Maura hesitated on the stairs, nervously fingering the folds of her second-best dress, a shimmery silver-grey satin with brilliantes sewn into the hem to add to the starry effect. Maura couldn’t believe she’d let Cecilia talk her into this; the dress and accepting the dinner invitation, whose source was somewhat indeterminate, although she had her suspicions. She had not faced Riordan since, well, just since. She’d leave it at that. She wasn’t even sure he wanted to face her.
True, she hadn’t sought him out. She’d kept herself busy with the children and field trips. But neither had he seemed to make an effort to seek her out. Maybe he’d realised, too, just how impractical anything more than one night was. But now this invitation threw those suppositions into question.
She supposed the answer depended, too, on what kind of dinner this was meant to be. A seduction by candlelight? A farewell? Perhaps a mix of both? Would he casually tell her over wine he’d decided on a bride?
‘Miss Caulfield, your dinner awaits.’ Riordan strode forwards, his hand outstretched. Her breath caught at the sight of him. He’d taken extra care with his appearance. Everything about him was immaculate, his unruly hair brushed to perfection, his jaw shaven and smooth, his dark evening clothes pressed. He wore a dark-emerald waistcoat beneath with an onyx stick pin in his cravat.
If a man could look ravishing, Riordan did. Ravishing and masculine. The gaze he cast her said he would devour her if she let him. It was to be seduction, then.
Would she let him? She slipped her hand into his. He raised it to his lips, his message clear. He would endeavour to persuade her, but the decision would be hers. The game had begun.
*
By the time the beef course was served, Maura realised she’d mistaken the game.
There was something more than seduction and another night of pleasure at stake.
What that could possibly be, Maura could not guess. She’d been so certain of her earlier interpretation. Now, she was starting to see it in a different light. Riordan’s sartorial splendour, even his flirtation tonight, was a notch above the usual.
His flirtation was not in his innuendo-laced words, or blatant touch. It was in his eyes, in his gestures. Dinner was served à la français and she honoured the tradition, letting him serve her, letting him pick the best pieces of meat for her, reminiscent of chivalrous knights of old choosing for their ladies. From another man, the gesture would look over-solicitous, ridiculous, even patronising. But Riordan carried it off with a subtle aplomb that managed to ratchet her desire to dizzying heights. Who would have thought the act of putting roasted beef on one’s plate or pouring a small glass of wine could create, could inflame desire?
She chewed, she swallowed, but her attentions were all claimed by him, by the motion of his mouth as he ate, the caress of his fingers around the stem of his wine glass, from which he drank sparingly, the curve of his lips as he made conversation, laughing with her over the visit to the Egyptian Hall. All the while she feared she’d clutch her glass so tightly it would shatter.
‘There is something I’d like to discuss with you, Maura,’ he said finally over a plate of strawberries dipped in chocolate. He held one up and offered it to her.
She took a tiny, sweet bite. Was this how farewell started?
‘We have not talked since the other night. I regret that.’ His eyes were holding hers, a light smile on his lips that did nothing to help her relax. It was a seductive smile that said ‘I know what you’re feeling and you’re safe with me. You don’t need to fight it.’ So much for nonchalance. It was unnerving how transparent she was to him.
‘You’ve been busy.’ She offered the polite excuse.
‘I have. That’s no excuse. When a gentleman takes a woman’s virtue there should be words afterwards.’ His blue eyes were serious, sparking a knot of dread in her stomach right next to the roast beef. Surely he didn’t feel he owed her anything. She recalled how he had offered her a new gown and the pocket of dread grew. Maura swallowed hard. It would positively demean their one night, their one indiscretion if he offered her recompense for it. Please don’t, she silently pleaded.
‘I meant it when I said you inspired me, Maura.’ He reached for her hand, gripping her fingers. ‘Since I’ve met you my other entertainments have lost their allure. I’ve come to believe the reason I can’t settle on a wifely candidate is you, which leads me to the conclusion that I should marry you. Would you do me the honour of being my wife?’
Dread and disbelief warred with the beef. Marry her? It was impossible for so many reasons. ‘You hardly know me.’ She tried to pull back her hand. If he touched her any longer she’d capitulate. It was
a fairy tale she had no right to. It would cost him in ways he couldn’t guess. ‘You’ve only known me a little over a month.’
‘I know enough.’ Riordan’s eyes fairly seared her as if they could burn compliance from her. ‘I know you’re good, and kind, and the children adore you.’
‘And you? Do you adore me?’ She was starting to see that other agenda she’d suspected over the beef. This dinner was about something far bigger than a one-night seduction. It wasn’t even about his personal desire to marry. It was something larger.
‘I do believe I am falling in love with you,’ Riordan whispered softly, letting his lips skim the knuckles of her hand before he turned her hand over and covered her palm with gentle kisses.
‘Marriage is not an institution lightly undertaken,’ Maura replied, wishing she could see as much in his face as he usually saw in hers. ‘Why do you wish to marry so precipitously?’ What was it he’d said the day he’d asked her to plan the party? I find myself compelled to marry? I cannot wait until next Season. There was something more afoot.
‘Now you sound like the vicar.’ Riordan chuckled against her hand. ‘And you haven’t answered my question. Will you marry me?’
Maura met his gaze with seriousness. ‘You haven’t answered mine. What’s really going on that an earl with a reputation suddenly wants to marry and then suddenly wants to marry the governess? You have to agree it looks somewhat suspect.’ When Riordan said nothing, she said, ‘I will not commit to a marriage where we cannot have complete honesty between us. This would be an ominous beginning indeed.’
He let go of her hand. He drew a deep breath and she braced herself. Perhaps she should have settled for the romantic half-truths he’d spun. Whatever he had to say was going to hurt.
‘The Vales will take the children if I don’t marry or produce at the very least a likely wife in the next four days.’ Oh heavens, she hated being right. If it wasn’t for the children’s involvement, she might have felt like a consolation prize. As it was, all she could manage was, ‘The Vales? The same who visited Elliott?’
‘The viscountess is the children’s cousin on their mother’s side. She declined to take them the first time around,’ Riordan offered briefly.
‘How long have you known?’ Longer than she’d been here, she was sure of that.
This drama had been going on before she’d arrived. She was starting to see the whole sordid mess he was coping with: the precipitous suicide of his brother, the battle for the children. There’d been so much more occurring beneath the surface than simply settling children into a new life with a new guardian, so much more than what she’d seen or guessed at and Riordan had taken it all upon his shoulders.
‘Since the funeral. It hardly matters. She’s after their trust funds, which are significant.’ Riordan lowered his voice. ‘They were penniless orphans when their father died. Elliott changed that. There’s money and an estate for William and a respectable dowry for Cecilia. There’s a trust for raising them, William’s school, Cecilia’s début. The children are wealthy in their own right.’
‘But Elliott left them to you.’ Maura tried to assemble all the pieces in to a coherent whole. It would break him to lose those children.
‘They mean to contest the will if they have to. They mean to suggest Elliott was mentally imbalanced and didn’t know what he was doing when he bequeathed the children to me.’ Riordan stretched his hands wide on the table. ‘I am an unfit guardian, you see. Only a crazy man would think otherwise.’
‘And marriage? Where does that fit in with all this?’
‘With a wife I can prove there’s a motherly presence in the home and that I’ve redressed my wicked ways.’ Riordan gave a harsh laugh. ‘Apparently, a man is considered upstanding if he has a wife by his side.’
Maura wished she could erase the pain from his face. ‘These meetings you’ve been at, they’ve been about the children?’
‘Yes, and about the will. We’ve been trying to determine what we might have to fear from the exposure of Elliott’s will.’ He shook his head. ‘There’s been a development in the ledgers that gives us hope we might discover the reason, but also concern over what that reason might be. We don’t want it used against us.’
Something crossed his face that hadn’t been there before. Fear. That rocked her more than the sight of his personal pain. She’d not thought the Earl of Chatham, Riordan Barrett, lived in fear of anything. But she saw now there was fear over losing the children, over his brother’s memory, his legacy, and maybe fear, too, that he wasn’t up to the challenge of preserving both, that his father had been right all those years ago.
‘It’s not the most elegant of proposals, Maura. But I do care for you, that’s not a lie, and I can make a good life for you.’ He picked up her hand again, caressing it in circles, the beginnings of a seduction. ‘I can give you—’
She would not let him do this. She would not let him beg. ‘Stop.’ The firmness of the command made him look up. ‘Don’t you dare sell yourself like this.’ How many times had he done this before? she wondered. Promising the one thing he felt he could give in exchange for what? For a few moments where he succeeded in driving back the pain of the past? How had she not guessed? Not seen the layers of him? The vulnerability he was a master at hiding?
‘If you won’t believe in my ability to love you, Maura, believe in my ability to give you pleasure. You know I am not promising it idly.’ The grip on her hand tightened to almost painful. ‘I would sell my very soul for those children. I have nothing else to bargain with. The Vales have no interest in them beyond the money. They’ll be packed off to boarding schools and who knows what will happen to the funds. Vale’s pockets are nearly to let, he’s not as solvent as he appears. Please, help me. Help William and Cecilia.’
Tears brimmed in her eyes. Riordan needed the one thing she couldn’t give him. ‘I can’t marry you.’ She breathed the words in a whisper. She could not give him the decency he needed. Marriage to her would solidify his wicked reputation —the man who married a woman promised to another. It was only a hair’s breadth away from bigamy and her uncle had the papers to prove it.
His face became a mask of stoicism and she knew he didn’t understand. He thought she was rejecting him, that he was unsuitable when in reality it was she who was the unsuitable one. He reached into his evening coat. ‘Then perhaps you’ll want this. It’s a note from Baron Hesperly indicating his intentions. He’d like to call on you, and I think you can safely assume his attentions will lead to a certain outcome.’
Maura covered her mouth with a hand, stricken. She didn’t bother to pick up the note. ‘It’s not that I can’t marry you. I can’t marry anyone.’ She pushed back from the table. What a horrible mess this had become. She had to get away from here, get away from him before her secrets tumbled out. She’d been right to keep them from him. He would take on her burdens as he had the others.
She was too late. Riordan had her by the arm, his grip hard, his eyes blazing, his voice angry as he growled one word. ‘Why?’
Chapter Eighteen
‘That’s my business.’ Maura tugged at her arm, but Riordan held fast. She was his last chance, his best chance. He would not let her go.
‘You’ve refused my proposal. I have a right to know on what grounds.’ He raked her with a searing glance. ‘Especially when I am certain there have been no others.’ This last was said meanly. He hoped to prompt an angry response, something other than her defiant resistance. ‘I am uncertain, however, that we haven’t made a child between us. Have you thought of that?’ His argument gained purchase with her. She paled a little at the possibility. ‘Nature does not care if it’s your first time or your hundredth. That child could be the next Earl of Chatham. All you have to do is say yes.’
His tactics were completely unfair. He knew Maura would put consideration of a child above her own. But this was now a zero-sum game and he would win. He had to win. He had children of his own now to consider. Whether t
hey knew it or not, their futures hinged on his victory with Maura. He bent his lips to her ear.
‘Tell me your secret, Maura. It is safe with me, you are safe with me.’ And she was, he realised with a shocking intensity. These were not the idle words of a desperate swain. Whatever dreadful secret she carried, he would protect her.
Maura turned her head away and gave a final tug. This time he let her arm drop. ‘Telling you won’t change anything. Knowing won’t magically make me able to marry you.’ There was regret mixed with her defiance. He was encouraged. She would marry him if she felt free to do so. He just had to convince her she could. That meant ferreting out her secret and convincing her it wasn’t nearly as insurmountable as she believed.
Riordan strode towards the wide double doors to the dining room and pulled them shut. With a resolute flick of his fingers he locked them. ‘Why don’t you sit?
If my powers of deduction aren’t up to snuff, it may be a long night.’
Maura hesitated. ‘What are you doing?’
Riordan grabbed a small chair from against the wall and swivelled it backwards, straddling it. ‘I am settling in for a game of Rumpelstiltskin. I will guess your secret.’
Maura sat confidently. ‘You can’t make me tell you.’
‘You won’t have to. I will guess all night and in the end I will have the truth whether you tell me or not.’
‘Very well, I won’t admit to it.’
Riordan smiled wolfishly. Let her be slightly alarmed, he thought. He needed this secret, he needed her. ‘You won’t have to.’ He should have learned more about her from the beginning when his initial suspicions had been raised: the fine manners, the well-made clothes, the ability to host a dinner party, the oblique reply from Mrs Pendergast’s agency. But he hadn’t looked further than the surface, just as he hadn’t looked beyond Elliott’s suicide for the same reasons.
How to Sin Successfully (Rakes Beyond Redemption) Page 16