What A Gentleman Wants (19 page)

Her merriment was unaffected. “I was not a clinging vine. And you asked me to play your wife, not a duchess. I told you I don’t know how to be a duchess.” To his shock, she smiled and stepped even closer, until they were practically in each other’s arms. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, resting her hands on his shoulders. “It’s just a part. I shan’t expect you to act on any of it.” And with another secretive smile, she turned and let the footman help her into the carriage, leaving Marcus staring after her in mingled amazement, horror, and… worst of all… desire.

The Exeter pearls did not consist of a mere necklace. The box that Adams brought to her room the next day looked very like a pirate’s treasure chest, and Hannah eyed it with some alarm. Rosalind, though, seemed delighted to see it.

“Ah, Marcus has finally remembered,” she said. “Over here, please.” The secretary set the chest on
the
dressing table chair, then bowed several times before he made it back out the door. Hannah caught the edge of Rosalind’s smile. “Poor lad. Marcus terrifies him.”

“I had noticed,” said Hannah dryly. Rosalind quirked a brow at her, and Hannah changed the subject. “So! These are the famous pearls, I take it.”

“Oh, yes.” Rosalind opened the lid of the trunk. “I thought Marcus would give these to you himself.”

Hannah lifted one shoulder, thinking that he was probably trying to find a way out of this fake marriage, after the way she’d acted last night. Not only flirting with him in front of Lady Willoughby, but then getting carried away with herself and stepping into his arms and practically daring him to— “No doubt he was too busy,” she began, but her reply faded as she glanced into the box. Ropes of pearls were coiled in velvet-lined compartments, no less than four pairs of earrings gleamed up at her, and when Rosalind lifted out the top tray, hair combs, shoe clips, and a small tiara added their luminescence to the room. Hannah knew her eyes must be leaping from her face, but she couldn’t help herself; the jewels in the trunk must be worth the entire income of everyone in Middleborough. Over a century’s time. “Good heavens,” she said faintiy.

“Yes, I always thought the tiara was a bit much myself.” Rosalind lifted it from the box and held it up. “Although it would look striking in your dark hair. It just blended into mine.” Hannah doubted anything just blended into Rosalind’s magnificent curls, still blond with only a trace of silver. And she was certain the tiara would look miles out of place in her own curly mop. “Try it,” said Rosalind, holding it out.

“Oh, no,” began Hannah, but Rosalind waved aside her protest.

“You must try it on, if only to see that everything is in order. I haven’t worn these in several years, and they’ve doubtless been sitting in the vault ever since.”

“I really don’t think…” Hannah’s weak protest died as Rosalind settled the tiara atop her head, adjusting it with a critical eye before reaching for the ropes of necklaces. Hannah stood stock-still, afraid to harm the priceless treasure being draped on her, and just the tiniest bit thrilled to have a chance to wear it. How often did an ordinary woman like her get a chance to wear a king’s ransom in jewels?

Five necklaces, three bracelets, one pair of earrings and three rings later, Hannah felt like a queen. She faced herself in the mirror, disbelieving, as Rosalind fussed over the stubborn clasp of another bracelet.

“Goodness, this may need to be sent to the jeweler for fixing,” she said. “Everything else seems to be in order, though.”

“Rosalind,” asked Hannah in a dazed voice, “where might one wear all this?”

“Anywhere, my dear, although perhaps the tiara only for special occasions. Your first ball, for instance, although Marcus may give you something else for that. William, Marcus’s father, gave me a sapphire necklace for our betrothal ball, and I only wore some of the smaller pearl pieces.”

“Oh,” Hannah murmured, turning to see herself better. The pearls seemed to glow with a light of their own, and if Hannah did say so herself, they flattered her coloring a great deal. Perhaps, with the money the duke had promised her, she could get herself a small necklace. Nothing like this splendid collection of course, just a simple strand as a reminder…

But when she left, she wouldn’t need jewels at all. She would go back to her quiet life again, and without the balls and other events, jewels would be not only vain but wasteful. The money would be thrown away on something as frivolous as a pearl necklace she wouldn’t have any reason to wear.

Aware that her expression in the mirror had become quite tragic, Hannah shook herself and forced a jaunty tone. “This whole set could come in handy, though; no one can even see my gown.” It was true. The longest ropes of pearls hung to her waist, and wearing five at once presented a solid luminous mass that completely obscured the bodice of her dress. “I need never stand for another fitting again, if I only wear these to cover myself.”

Rosalind erupted in peals of laughter. “Oh, Hannah, how droll! You must tease Marcus with that idea tonight, the economy of covering yourself with jewels instead of silk!”

“Perhaps not quite frugal, but he’s already got the jewels,” she played along, grinning.

“I think he would find the idea enormously intriguing, on one level,” said Rosalind, her blue eyes bright with mischievous delight.

“Really?” Hannah turned to admire herself, unabashedly preening. If the pearls weren’t so perfecdy elegant, she would consider it vulgar, but as it was… she had to admit she liked it very much.

“Oh, yes. Wouldn’t you, Marcus?”

“Indeed,” said the duke’s dry voice, nearly sending Hannah leaping out of her skin. She whirled around, only to see him standing there watching her admiring herself in his family heirlooms. Scarlet with self-consciousness, she fumbled with a bracelet.

“It was a jest, of course,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “I only meant that because there are so many of them, and they’re so magnificent, no one would even notice the clothes underneath…” She could have bitten her tongue, and jerked the bracelet from her wrist. “I should put them back, before something gets damaged or lost. Rosalind, would you?” She sent Rosalind a glance of mute appeal before turning her back to the duchess and going to work on the rest of the bracelets.

“Of course it was a jest,” said Rosalind lightly. “Don’t think for one moment you’ll not have to buy any more gowns, Marcus. Which reminds me, I must remind Celia of her appointment today with the dressmaker.” And without another word she whisked out of the room, leaving Hannah gaping after her in disbelief.

“I’m sorry,” she said too loudly, as the silence wore on and the clasp she was fiddling with still refused to open. “Rosalind insisted I try everything on at once.”

“I see.” His voice was closer than before. Fingers shaking, heart thumping, Hannah kept her eyes fixed on the blasted bracelet. If her face got any hotter, her hair might catch fire. She could sense rather than hear him approaching. “Is it broken?”

He was directly behind her. Hannah took a deep, steadying breath, then turned and faced him, wrist outstretched. “It may be,” she said, relieved that her voice was almost normal. “I can’t open it”

He took her hand in his and studied the clasp. Hannah stole a quick peek at his face, then had to look away. “You like the pearls, then?” he asked idly. She blushed.

“They’re beautiful. Stunning.”

“You must wear them the next time we go out.”

“All right,” she mumbled, not wanting to meet his gaze but feeling it on her.

“Hmm.” He released her hand and stepped back. Hannah hesitantly looked up. He was studying her, his expression clinically cool as his eyes moved over her. “They suit you,” he said, surprising her. “You look very well in them.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice gone scratchy and husky. She cleared her throat. Thank you.“

He continued to stare at her. “Yes, I do see what you mean,” he murmured.

Hannah straightened her shoulders nervously. “Oh?”

The glance he sent her was full of subtle amusement “One can hardly see the bodice of that gown.”

He was laughing at her. Hannah bristled. He had sent her the pearls and insisted she wear them; it was only a bit of fun on her part. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Anyone who looks closely can clearly see it.” His brow arched. He pointedly looked at her chest again. Hannah could have kicked herself. “Well, I shan’t ever wear all these at once anyway, so it doesn’t matter.” Trying to ignore him entirely, she went back to working at the bracelet.

“Wear some of them tomorrow night.” Another invitation appeared in front of her. Abandoning the clasp again, she took it and read.

“Another ball?”

“Yes. This one should be more reasonable. Lady Carlisle has a bit more care for her guests’ comfort.”

“Will it be like the Throckmortons‘?” She looked up, right into his piercing gaze. For a second she was caught He had a way of staring at her that seemed to make her freeze.

“Very much so.” Finally his eyes shifted, moving over her in a way that was almost worse. His gaze slid slowly over her from head to toe, not skipping a single inch. “This time we’ll be prepared, hmm?”

“Yes.” She put the invitation on the dressing table behind her. Pearls rolled down her wrist, the stubbornly closed bracelet. “Have you decided which pieces I should wear?”

He took his time replying, and Hannah flushed. She must learn to control her tongue; a man like the duke couldn’t seriously be expected to help her choose which necklace to wear. What did it matter anyway, when they were all so elegant? “But I’m sure Rosalind will be able to help me decide,” she exclaimed, and reached to the back of her neck to take off the necklaces.

“Quite so,” he said, brushing her hands aside. “Allow me.”

Hannah wanted to argue. She wanted to step away and not feel his hands on her. But she was not a coward, and refused to let herself squirm away. She forced herself to hold still as he moved behind her and his fingers brushed the sensitive skin at the back of her neck, unfastening clasps. One necklace slid forward, the pearls rolling over her bosom. Hannah gasped, and the necklace stopped. The duke lifted it over her head, as coolly as ever, and replaced it in the chest. Hannah closed her eyes as he turned back to release another clasp. Stupid girl, she scolded herself furiously, why must you put on all five necklaces?

Another clasp gave way, another strand of pearls fell away from her neck. Another. Another. Last one, she thought in relief, opening her eyes. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the back of the dressing chair. She had grown so attuned to his touch, she swore she could feel his breath on her. Even her hair felt alive with nerves.

Not that he noticed. Without thinking, Hannah raised her eyes to the mirror. She looked reasonably normal, at least, standing stiffly with her shoulders back and her head bowed slighdy forward. And he looked:—

He stood very close behind her, his head cocked to one side as he worked at the last clasp. Although she knew he was looking at the necklace, the image in the mirror appeared for all the world as if he were concentrating on her, on the bare curve of her neck and shoulder, as a man might contemplate his lover.

Her breath came shallow, part alarm and part desire. What was she thinking? She was not his lover, and he was not about to lean forward and press his lips to her neck, to that spot right below her ear that drove her wild, probably wild enough to forget all the very significant reasons why she shouldn’t even want him to kiss that spot, at least for a little while… or maybe even a moderately long time, if she were honest about it…

As if he could hear her struggle, his eyes slowly lifted, to meet hers in the mirror. Something changed in those dark eyes, so subtly she couldn’t have said what it was. He knows, she thought in sudden panic. He knows what I’m thinking.

Marcus would have paid a great deal of money to know what she was thinking at that moment. Part of it he knew; it was desire, hot and bright, in the depths of her gaze. But something else shielded it, dimmed it. Fear? Dismay? Regret that nothing could ever come of that desire? Because it most certainly couldn’t…

Could it?

“Thank you,” she said breathlessly. Marcus blinked, realizing he was just holding the ends of an unfastened necklace. He pulled the necklace over her shoulder, deliberately letting the pearls slide across her skin. She flinched, then stepped away, her cheeks flushed. In the mirror he could clearly see the outline of her nipples against the thin silk of her gown, standing firm and tempting. He shouldn’t do things like that. Her revealing response was almost worse than his own wonderings.

She tugged at the bracelet, until with a small ping it flew apart. The color left her face, and she stared at the broken strand with horror. “I—I broke it,” she said, holding it out to him with trembling fingers.

He took it without looking at it. “It was already broken.” She met his gaze, her face almost frightened, then turned away. Marcus watched as she pulled off the rings and earrings and remaining bracelets and put them back in the chest. When she raised her arms to take the tiara from her hair, he finally tore his attention away. He had only come to give her the invitation and make sure she knew to wear some of the pearls. It was just his luck she would have covered herself with them, and been laughing with Rosalind about the possibility of going naked beneath them. The pearls would indeed suit her perfecdy that way, and he couldn’t erase the image from his mind.

He contemplated the bracelet in his hand. Instead of having Adams see to getting it fixed, perhaps he could take it himself. Perhaps he could choose something for her; she liked pearls. Or sapphires, to match her eyes. He could picture her wearing sapphires around her neck, and nothing else…

Marcus stopped. What was he thinking? She was not his mistress, nor would she be. Lust was a transient emotion, and it would pass. He simply had to keep himself in check until it did. He laid the bracelet on the dressing table. “Rosalind will want to give the jeweler directions.” And parade a fortune in jewels under Hannah’s eyes. Marcus knew his stepmother. But he’d gladly buy a diamond bracelet or ruby earrings to keep from losing his head over her. He just wouldn’t have any part in choosing them. “Or Adams can see to it.” He gave a half bow, barely glancing at her. “Good day, madam.” And he turned and left.