There was a hint of wary question in his dark eyes. “Can you define the actual question?”
“I didn’t realize it was unclear.” She essayed a smile. “It isn’t complicated. I meant spontaneous . . . and outside . . .”
“Lovemaking? No. The green stains on my knees are unique to you.” With a light teasing fingertip he touched her lower lip. “I had no inclination to wait until later to touch you again, and why waste this beautiful day and this secluded spot?”
Was he sincere? She wasn’t sure. “It’s lovely,” she admitted, their bodies still entwined, his arms strong and secure. “I’ve always liked the country much better than the city, but our country home was entailed to the estate, so after Edward died, it went with the title to his cousin. Luckily, I have the house in town free and clear.”
The only decent thing Edward had ever done for her was leave her well enough off to be self-sufficient, and she suspected that was done to deliberately taunt Franklin, since the two of them had never cared much for each other. She’d been stunned when she heard the amount of her inheritance, but not half as surprised as the new Lord Wynn. Luckily, Edward had been as ruthless in his business dealings as he was in every other way and tied it up very neatly, so contesting the bequest had proved fruitless. In the aftermath of the dispute, Franklin treated her—as he had the other day after the race meet—with annoying condescension, and she disliked the calculating way he looked at her. To avoid him seemed best and she did so as much as possible.
“I understand your husband died of a fever.”
Caroline gazed abstractly at a low-hanging branch fluttering green leaves above the water. The breeze caressed her heated skin. “They aren’t sure what it was. He began to get pains in his stomach and became violently ill. It didn’t pass. In two days, he was gone.”
“I would say I’m sorry, but somehow I don’t think you are anxious for sympathy over his loss.”
“It would be hypocritical of me to accept any condolences. I didn’t wish him dead, but neither did I grieve when it happened.”
“You do realize that this time if you decided to marry again, it could be your choice entirely.”
The bland tone of his voice made her tilt her head back and look at his face. “I’m wary of it, I’ll not deny it. Who is to say what a man will become once the vows are said? Edward seemed charming enough upon first acquaintance, but you are right—he was not my choice. My aunt and my father contracted the marriage and I wasn’t consulted.”
The man holding her didn’t comment. It was a common enough practice to arrange a union without input from the bride.
Caroline murmured, “Besides . . . I didn’t conceive a child.”
As much as she tried to sound detached and pragmatic, she still remembered Edward’s disdain over her failure to bear him an heir. She’d always hoped for one too. Someone to love, and who in turn might love her. Since he wanted a son so badly, it was also a hope her husband would either be less sadistic in his attentions when she was pregnant or leave her alone entirely during her confinement.
Nicholas’s arms tightened a little. “Possible infertility can be a consideration,” he acknowledged in a quiet voice finally, “depending on one’s duty. But there are plenty of men who would overlook it because of your exquisite beauty, Caroline.”
What a diplomatic way of saying a man like
him
could not risk a barren wife. Not when it was his responsibility to continue the direct lineage of his family name and rank. She understood. Since her marriage, she was a great deal more knowledgeable about how the world worked.
Still, it stung a little.
It was forgotten in the next moment as Nicholas expertly adjusted their position and kissed her. He murmured against her lips, “We have hours before we have to return and dress for dinner.”
Caroline wound her arms around his neck. “That sounds marvelous.”
He smiled in a way that made something melt inside her. “I adore your enthusiasm, darling.”
The endearment came so easily, used with the facile confidence of a man who knew women wanted to hear it from his lips.
Those gloriously talented lips. On impulse, Caroline moved up enough that she could lick the full bottom curve of his mouth. From corner to corner in a slow, provocative sweep. A flicker of surprised approval showed in his eyes and he laughed, his breath warm against her mouth. “The lady is a quick study, I see.”
Was she? Maybe it was the warm afternoon and the setting that made her feel so daring. Perhaps it was the freedom of knowing all the nasty comments and cruel gibes hurled at her when Edward had finished and donned his dressing gown to leave on the nights he came to her room were false. It could even be that the very beautiful, indisputably virile duke truly was irresistible, not just to his usual parade of experienced bedmates, but even to someone as sexually ignorant as herself.
Whatever it was, she knew she wanted him again, wanted to feel his passion, his careful touch, to know she pleased him as a woman.
Even if it was all an illusion.
Chapter Twelve
“
S
o, how goes the campaign? I daresay we’ve seen more of you the past few days than I have in several years.”
Derek gave his uncle a jaded look of reproof. “You are aware it isn’t going well, as you’ve been witness for most of it. Tonight at dinner is a perfect example. I don’t believe she spoke more than a dozen words to me and then claimed a headache
again
and left the table early.” Sprawled in a chair in the study, a glass of port at his elbow on a Moroccan table inlaid with a brilliant pattern of polished stones, he asked with what he hoped was idle inquiry, “Has she said anything?”
“To your aunt Margaret, you mean?” Thomas leaned back and shook his head. “Not that I’m aware, but there is a singular female conspiracy to silence about romantic confessions between them, I’ve learned—amazing in creatures not given much to silence in the first place.”
Derek wanted to laugh at the dry observation, but he was a little too frustrated and dispirited. “I cannot believe Annabel hasn’t remarked on my sudden presence here so often.”
Good God, he sounded like a pathetic lovesick adolescent. He moved restively, annoyed with himself, and just annoyed in general. The situation with Annabel was bad enough, but the wager made going out to functions a bit of a trial, especially with Nicholas conspicuously absent. London society noticed he was gone. The teasing questions about his whereabouts were an irritant Derek didn’t need.
“I still say you should endeavor to talk to her alone.”
“On several occasions I have tried. It’s clear she isn’t interested.” He made a hopeless gesture with his hand, remembering those attempts with a chagrin that was uncharacteristic and unwanted. “You know, the furor over Phoebe Tanner coincided exactly with my realization that I needed to try to change Annabel’s mind about my character. Though Phoebe’s husband’s radical decision to seek a divorce had nothing to do with me, the whispers didn’t help. I’m sure it’s merely confirmed Annabel’s bleak opinion of me as a rakish scoundrel. There is nothing worse than being embroiled in a divorce petition. Luckily, not only am I innocent entirely of ever touching the lady, but Lord Tanner at least dropped his accusations. Too late, though, I’m afraid.”
Thomas merely gave him a look of amused male sympathy.
“Annabel’s opinion of me makes the bottom of the sea look like a mountaintop.” Derek sprawled lower in his chair with a frustrated sigh.
“Ah.”
Well, what the devil did that mean? Even if Derek hadn’t ultimately been named in the lovely Lady Tanner’s imbroglio, the timing couldn’t have been worse. The Tanner divorce scandal had happened right as he finally admitted his inability to dismiss the incident with Annabel and go about his life. He was not going to be able to dismiss
Annabel
. And seeing his name trotted out as the likely source of Lord Tanner’s outrage—though the rumor was false—hadn’t helped his cause in the least. Phoebe Tanner had protected her real lover—who must resemble Derek in height and coloring, for the hapless gentleman had escaped out the window when they were discovered by her enraged husband, hence the mistake. Having a solid alibi for the night in question helped prove his denials of culpability were true, but what stuck in people’s mind was not his proven innocence but the cauldron of scandal.
He’d written to Annabel several months ago, laboring over the letter like a schoolboy, sitting at his desk for hours trying to think of how to explain his actions that fateful afternoon in the library, and, for his trouble, gotten no reply at all. He was fairly sure Annabel hadn’t even bothered to read it.
Derek bit out, “Lighthearted seduction is quite different from . . .
this
.”
His uncle’s mouth curved in amusement. “You might try out the word.”
“What word?” He resisted pouring another glass of port. Drinking too much wasn’t solving his problems, though he had severely tested the method.
“Love,” Thomas said mildly. “I think you are going to have to practice saying it.”
There was a painting of a hound with a limp fox at its feet above the fireplace and Derek focused his attention on it as a diversion. Why any artist chose to depict dead animals on canvas for aesthetic purposes was a mystery to him. . . .
Love.
No, he wasn’t sure he could speak with eloquence on the subject. The letter had contained an apology and a request for a chance to speak to her but no flowery declarations. He knew how to please a woman with a well-turned compliment, how to whisper the right words in her ear when she was in his bed, how to make her sigh with just the correct touch, but he knew nothing about saying those simple three words.
I love you.
Thomas went on. “You must say it. Women need to hear it. They
like
to hear it and it’s important to build a strong bond. Grudgingly admitting you’d marry her is vastly different from explaining just how you feel.”
“It wasn’t grudging,” Derek objected.
“It took a year.”
Well, that was a solid point. He’d come around, just twelve crucial months too late.
“How I feel?” he muttered. “That’s easy enough. Wretched.”
A benign smile lit his uncle’s face. “Your current state of discomfort tells me you’re sincere, Derek. But you aren’t making much progress by simply showing up and glowering every time she mentions Lord Hyatt’s name.”
“I don’t glower.” He tried consciously to wipe the fierce frown from his face.
“No.” A chuckle rang out. “Not at all.”
“Your glee over my present distress is a little unsporting, isn’t it? I thought males had an unspoken law that compassion was the order of the day for a fallen comrade.” Derek shoved himself to his feet and paced restlessly over to the window. It was full dark outside and his image reflected back at him in the glass, the set of his mouth unhappy and tense.
“Trust me, I am not without compassion for your dilemma, Derek. I love Annabel as if she were my own child. I’ve been her father since she was eight years old, and her happiness is very important to me. I would also like to see you settled and content with the right woman rather than dividing your time between dull business obligations and frivolous love affairs. I doubt either leaves you very fulfilled.”
The observation was very much on the mark and Derek gave a small grimace and turned around. “For the past year I’ve done my best to convince myself I had a small infatuation that would pass like any other.”
“I believe Annabel has been busy doing the same thing.”
“What if you’re wrong? What if her feelings for Hyatt are genuine? After all, she agreed to be his wife.” The last word came out a little choked. His cravat felt suddenly as if it was tied too tight and he loosened it with a careless tug.
Thomas folded his hands and shook his head. “Where now is the confident young man who does little more than glance their way and aristocratic ladies swoon into his arms? Surely you know far more about women than I do. I had a rather more staid existence in my youth and so my experience is limited mostly to my years of married life. But I can say with fair confidence that the way Annabel acts in your presence toward her intended is quite different from the more subdued persona I see when you are not there to witness her supposed bliss.”
“You think she’s trying to make me jealous?” He felt ridiculous even asking, but then he really wanted to know.
“The other night at the family celebration, she was most certainly more flirtatious and attentive to his lordship than usual. When you left, she was visibly more subdued. To be honest, I think Hyatt noticed and maybe even made the connection himself between your departure and her change in demeanor. On Annabel’s part I don’t think it was conscious, because she is not a vindictive person. But I do think she wants you to believe she’s no longer taken with you in any way.”
“She’s succeeding.” Derek gave a ragged exhale. “I’m both jealous and uncertain, and I loathe both states, for your information.”
“I’m sorry for that, but quite frankly, I was starting to wonder if you would ever have more than a passing interest in any woman.” Thomas calmly poured himself more port. “You seemed so determined to avoid any entanglement that might remotely become permanent. I suppose that’s why I wasn’t worried when I first realized Annabel’s adolescent romantic feelings for you. Whatever the gossips say, I know you well, and you have more honor than to compromise her. I realize something happened, but I won’t ask what. I trust you.”
If Thomas knew some of the less-than-honorable fantasies he’d entertained about his beautiful charge, he might not retain his sangfroid, but in the end, Thomas was right: he would never have taken advantage of her infatuation.
Then.
The game was a little different now.
“A single kiss,” Derek admitted.