To say nothing of the hideous purple bruise marring his jaw.
Poor Decker had hardly been in finer fettle himself, his left eye nearly swelled shut by the time they had taken their leave.
Two good men, sparring like prizefighters. All her fault.
“I do not give a damn if you had to listen to Lady Helmhurst drone on about her gout for an entire year,” Julian was bellowing at her now. “There is no excuse for sneaking about with seasoned miscreants such as Elijah Decker. I know his kind. I was his kind, once upon a time. Thank the Lord the servant saw you on the second night as well. I began having your correspondence intercepted.”
“You had my correspondence intercepted!” The invasion of privacy rankled. Her cheeks went hot as she thought of some of the early missives she had exchanged with Decker. It was personal, all of it. “How dare you, Julian? You had no right to read my private letters!”
“I had every right, as I was attempting to keep you from folly.” He passed a hand over his face, looking suddenly, unaccountably weary. “I would have been there to stop you before you rode off with him tonight, but Clara was feeling ill, and with her being so near to her confinement, I hated to leave.”
“Is Clara well?” she asked, concern for her sister-in-law taking precedence.
“She seemed so when I left, though I expect my return looking as if I just fought the Battle of Waterloo will hardly be improving upon her delicate constitution,” he said pointedly.
Jo knew another stab of remorse for her actions. It was true that she had been selfish when she had begun sneaking away to meet Decker. She had only been thinking of what she wanted, what she desired. She had not had a care for the repercussions to everyone around her.
To Julian and Clara.
To Decker.
To herself.
She winced. “Pray forgive me, Julian. It was not my intention to cause you or Clara further worry, and the last thing I wanted was for you to engage in a bout of fisticuffs with Decker.”
“Mr. Decker,” Julian clipped icily. “Though I suppose the form of address hardly matters any longer since you will never see the blighter again.”
The thought of never seeing Decker again filled her with dread.
In such a short amount of time, he had become as essential to her as air. The promise of seeing him again, touching him again, kissing him, striking through the items on her wicked list with him, was the driving force of her days.
Because you are losing your heart to him, you foolish, foolish hen wit.
Dear heavens. It was true.
“I will see him tomorrow,” she reminded her brother through suddenly dry lips. “He said he will call upon me then.”
Julian raised a dark brow. “And we shall not be at home to him when he does.”
“Yes we shall,” she countered. “Or at least, I shall.”
“Josephine, this is not a small matter,” Julian said, sounding quite paternal. Also distinctly unlike a man who had amassed a reputation to rival Decker’s before he had wedded Clara. “You were seen by at least one servant. Although I do believe the footman in question is loyal, there is a distinct possibility he has shared his knowledge with others, or that his fellow domestics witnessed you entering Mr. Decker’s carriage on subsequent occasions. Furthermore, there remains the matter of the possibility you are carrying Mr. Decker’s child.”
Jo had not bargained upon the possibility that she had been seen by other servants. The realization gave her pause, but not as much pause as the latter portion of what her brother had just relayed to her did. Jo was not as well-versed on the subject as she would have preferred, it was true, but she knew that kisses did not beget children.
“I can assure you, Julian, your concern is misplaced,” she said quietly. She supposed it would only make sense that he would believe the worst, given Decker’s reputation.
Would Julian believe the man had done little more than show her lewd art, kiss her senseless, charm her to the verge of distraction, and feed her cream ice? She hardly thought so.
“You can save your assurances, Josephine,” he returned, still grim as ever. “Forgive me if I do not trust a single word you utter just now.”
That was fair enough. She could hardly argue her actions ought to instill confidence in her honesty. She had deceived him repeatedly. She had also pursued a man she knew he would find unsuitable for her. Whilst it was true that her initial association with Decker had begun because of the list and his taunting blackmail, it had swiftly blossomed into more.
So much more.
“I am sorry, Julian,” she apologized quietly.
She was contrite. It had been wrong to lie to her brother. She certainly had no wish to be the cause of any upset in his life. With Clara soon ready to give birth, heaven knew he hardly needed further worries to fret over. However, she was not sorry about the time she had spent with Decker.
Nor was she finished with him.
But did she want to marry him?
Ah, there was the question.
“Apologies do not speak as loudly as actions do, Josephine,” her brother reminded her tautly.
“I do wish you would cease calling me Josephine,” she said. “You know how much I detest that name. What was mother thinking, burdening me with such a dubious mantle?”
“Mayhap she was thinking you would give your brother gray hair before his time with your antics and I would need a full name to resort to in times of trouble,” he said wryly, the first inkling of his sense of humor returning.
She gave him a small smile, relief washing over her. “I promise I will not do anything so reckless again, Julian.”
“There will not be further chance to,” he said, the hint of a smile on his lips vanishing. “I am going to have to find you a husband now, quickly. Have you any preference? I cannot make any promises, but I will do my best to see you settled with a good man, a man worthy of you.”
The only man she wanted to be settled with was calling upon her tomorrow to reluctantly offer to make her his wife. More guilt knifed through her. Of course, she had no wish for Decker to be forced into an unwanted situation either.
But if Julian was hell-bent upon forcing her into marriage, there was no other man she would prefer.
She cleared her throat. “You cannot force me into marriage, you know.”
“Yes I bloody well can force you to do what is right,” Julian said, his voice vibrating with fury.
Jo would have offered further argument, but the carriage came to a halt.
“This discussion is not at an end,” her brother warned her.
“I dare say it is not,” she agreed.
Still, there had to be a better solution.
She just had to find it.
Chapter Ten
Decker’s headache did not show any sign of lessening the next afternoon as he waited in the foyer of the Earl of Ravenscroft’s townhome.
“I regret to inform you that his lordship is not at home,” the butler announced with staid dignity.
That old bloody trick.
Decker shook his head slowly. “Kindly convey to his lordship that I will not leave without an audience.”
Not that he wanted to have this particular audience, mind you.
Not long ago, Decker would have wagered his entire fortune and every last one of his fucking teeth that he would never be in the position where he currently found himself unhappily mired: calling upon a lady’s guardian to ask for her hand in marriage.
Until last night, he would have sworn it would never happen. Marriage was not for him, not since his long-ago folly with Nora. He had never wanted a wife since. By God, he certainly did not want mutts of his own. The very notion of spawning, furthering the Earl of Graham’s detestable bloodline, made him want to retch. He had spent his entire life since reaching manhood doing his utmost to keep such a travesty from occurring.
The butler bowed and disappeared, his expression unreadable.
Part of Decker expecte
d the Earl of Ravenscroft to appear, ready to go another round, fists raised. But part of him was not at all surprised he was on the receiving end of such stinging refusal to gain an audience.
He was a bastard, after all. Everyone knew that. He was a mere mister as well. And wealthy or no, he was an unashamed voluptuary, a man who lived his life as he saw fit and to hell with anyone who did not approve. No man would welcome him as the husband of his young, innocent sister.
Hell, Decker could not blame Ravenscroft.
But that did not mean he was going to allow the earl to marry Jo off to some pale-faced, small-minded lordling who was not fit to lick the soles of her boots. To the devil with born-in-the-purple aristocrats. Jo deserved better.
A sudden flurry of steps and swish of silken skirts heralded the arrival of a female rather than the butler just before Jo rounded the corner and bustled into the entrance hall.
“Decker!” she said, sotto voce. “Come with me. We have not long before Osgood returns.”
She held out her hand to him.
He had a moment to ponder the wisdom of taking her hand and going wherever she would lead him. But worry was rather a moot point after her irate brother had caught her in his lap the night before, was it not?
Decker went, wishing he was not still wearing his gloves so he could feel her bare skin against his. Also an unwise feeling, he reminded himself. Deuced poor timing. He had arrived here today on a mission.
To obtain her as his wife, not to ruin her.
Even if taking a bride would ruin him in the process.
They disappeared into a library, the door closing behind them.
“You do not have to marry me,” she blurted.
He took a moment to drink in the sight of her. She was wearing a lavender-colored day gown trimmed with blonde lace, her dark hair captured in a simple chignon at her crown. Damn, but she made his heart pound faster. He could not deny his reaction to her any more than he could deny he was going to have to make her his wife.
Mrs. Elijah Decker.
Those three words made his gut cramp. They hit him in the chest. After Nora, he had vowed he would never marry. And now, before him, stood the deliciously feminine destruction of that vow.
“I do have to marry you, Josie,” he countered, watching as her golden cat’s gaze flitted over his face, lingering on his eye.
Ah, how could he forget his welcome-to-the-family gift from his future brother-in-law?
“I do not care about my reputation,” she told him. “The servant who observed me getting into your carriage has been paid handsomely for his silence. No one will ever know what happened except for us. But you must convince my brother there is no need to worry about me carrying your child.”
Of course Ravenscroft believed Decker’s seed was already planted in Jo’s womb. Decker had made certain of it, and he had no intention of disabusing the blighter of that false belief.
He clenched his jaw. “That is the reason you came racing to me just now and pulled me into this library? To tell me I should throw you to the wolves? What manner of man do you think me, to suppose I would do that?”
Her lush lips parted. “You will not be throwing me to the wolves. Julian was angry yesterday, but he is calmer today. He will not force me into a marriage, despite what he said last night. You need not sacrifice yourself for my sake.”
How misguided she was. He’d had the night to ruminate upon his options. And no matter how many times he turned over the facts and possible outcomes in his mind, he could not deny that the mere thought of her marrying another man—ever—filled him with the urge to claim her as his own.
No, the plain truth was that as much as he did not want to marry, as much as he did not want a wife, he could not allow himself to walk away from Lady Josephine Danvers. He wanted her. If she were to become his wife, he could finally have her. And when he tired of her, as he inevitably would, he would not interfere in her life. She would be free to pursue what she wished, and so would he.
The arrangement would not be an entirely unwanted one, aside from the marriage bit. Having her in his bed would sweeten the unexpected bitterness of having to wed. There were only two impediments to achieving his goal at the moment—Jo and her irate brother.
He took her other hand in his, drawing her nearer to him, and studied her beautiful face. “Marriage to me would not be such a horrible fate, I think. I have no need of your dowry; the money will be yours to dispense with as you wish. I have no need for heirs. You would have your independence, and we could cross off the rest of the items on your list.”
A frown furrowed her brow. “But you do not want to marry. You are a notorious bachelor.”
He dipped his head, bringing their lips nearer. “I do not want to marry, it is true. But neither do I want you to marry another man. That leaves us with only one solution to our current quandary, does it not?”
She blinked. “What if I do not want to marry you, Decker?”
Well, there was always that.
It was his turn to frown. “You do not want to marry me?”
She fretted with her lower lip. “That is not what I said.”
“Perhaps you would prefer to wed a lord,” he said grimly. “Someone like Hungtingdon or Quenington?”
He would never be able to change who he was. He was the bastard son of the Earl of Graham, and no matter how much he resented his arrogant prick of a sire and the fact that they shared blood, it would forever shape his life.
“No.” She shook her head, her gaze searching his. “There is no other man I would want to be my husband, if I must marry.”
He snorted. “That is hardly a commendation.”
“I—”
“Hush,” he interrupted. “Someone is coming.”
A flurry of footsteps beyond the library door reached him. Decker had a suspicion they were about to be interrupted once more by the Irate Brother of Doom.
He stole a swift kiss from her lips. Just one, and over far too quickly. “Allow me to handle matters with your brother. I will speak to you afterward, if he permits it.”
She looked as if she wanted to argue, but Decker released her hands and took a propriety-observing three steps in retreat. The library door burst open in the next second, revealing the Earl of Ravenscroft.
If glares could kill, Decker would be lying in a pool of his own blood on the Axminster at that very moment.
“Mr. Decker, what the hell are you doing in my library?” he demanded. “And Josephine, if you believe I will not make good on my threat of sending you to a nunnery, you are wrong.”
Decker sketched an ironic bow. “I am here to speak with you, just as I promised. However, I was repeatedly informed you were not at home.”
“That is true,” the earl snapped. “I am not at home to you. Now kindly crawl back to whatever rock you emerged from beneath.”
“I will not be going anywhere until I have said my piece,” he insisted firmly.
“Julian, please listen to what Mr. Decker has to say,” Jo pleaded softly. “You promised Clara earlier that you would see reason.”
Ravenscroft’s glare did not abate at all. “Leave us now, Josephine.”
Instead of leaving the chamber and obeying her brother, however, Jo sidled nearer to Decker. That pleased him. A surge of protectiveness blossomed in his chest. Along with that same, troubling feeling that had been haunting him ever since… Well, ever since he had first thought about her conducting any of the items on her list with other men.
Possession.
He felt as if she were already his.
“Perhaps Lady Jo ought to stay as her future is being discussed,” he suggested to the earl.
“Mayhap the things I want to say to you should not be spoken before a lady,” countered the earl, but there was a grim note of acceptance in his voice.
“I do wish to remain,” Jo offered. “Think of Clara, Julian. If we are to settle this matter swiftly, it will ease her stress. She does not need to concern herself
with me when she will so soon face her lying in.”
“Do not use my beloved wife as a pawn against me,” her brother snapped at her. “You owe her a debt of gratitude, you know. If it were not for her, you would be on your way to a convent as we speak.”
Decker’s lips twitched in wry humor at the notion. Ravenscroft was blustering, of course. Although he was still clearly irate with both Decker and Jo, he did not seem as inclined to begin throwing punches today.
Yet.
The afternoon was young.
“Shall we sit?” he suggested to Ravenscroft, gesturing to the divan and chairs artfully placed at one end of the long, bookshelf-lined chamber.
Such an arrangement certainly seemed less conducive to the earl planting him a facer, or vice versa.
“By all means, play the host,” the earl said cuttingly.
But he led the way to the seating area. They settled themselves in an awkward horseshoe, Jo and Decker on chairs at one end and Ravenscroft on a divan opposite them. Decker eyed the distance between himself and the earl, judging how much reaction time he would have lest the bloodthirsty bastard decide to pounce once more.
Enough.
“May I begin?” he asked, for he did not have all day to squander upon stroking the Earl of Ravenscroft’s abused ego.
This was not his sole call of the day. He also needed to oversee the funds being invested in Mr. Levi Storm’s new electricity company. He had a shipment of erotic marbles being delivered. To say nothing of the printing of the latest installment of the erotic serial he was publishing privately for members of the Black Souls club…truly, it was endless. But before him was the most important task of all. He needed to secure Jo’s hand, and then he needed to begin making plans.
“By all means, Mr. Decker, carry on with whatever it is you have to say.” The earl raised a chastising brow, his voice dripping in icy hauteur as only a nobleman born and bred could truly perfect.
Lady Wallflower (Notorious Ladies of London Book 2) Page 14