Perhaps there was something to be said for desire of the unattainable. Ladies had made it easy for him for years now, throwing money at him for the thrill of having him in their beds. Now, the woman financing his lifestyle didn’t want him, and that stung considering the strong reaction he’d had at the first sight of her.
He was being ridiculous. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he stood and pushed those damnable thoughts aside. He had a job to do, and daydreaming about how badly he’d like to be the one to deflower Calliope wasn’t it. Later this evening, he would find himself a whore and pay her to let him exorcise this fever in his blood. In the meantime, he needed to make amends to ensure his income didn’t dry up overnight due to his uncontrolled mouth.
Ironic that the thing which had earned him so many contracts might ruin his current arrangement.
Sending for Thorpe to help him prepare for an afternoon out, he ensured his appearance was in order before leaving his rooms. He’d sent his man out this morning to procure flowers for Calliope and have them delivered to Hastings House. He hoped this gesture would soften her toward him, and word would spread of the bouquet that had arrived at the Hastings residence for a certain unwed lady. All the better if it got back to Lewes.
As he made the trip on foot, he thought over what he would say when he saw her. ‘I’m sorry I called you an icicle’ didn’t seem like quite enough, while ‘I was wrong’ was a step too far. After all, Nick had many flaws but prided himself on his penchant for speaking the truth.
By the time he arrived, he had rehearsed a few flowery speeches but discarded them. Calliope didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would appreciate that—which was fortuitous, because he’d never been any good at gallantry. As he used the door knocker, he fixed his face with a polite smile and settled on a tactic of bluntness mixed with apologetic reasoning.
He expected to be informed that Calliope was ‘not at home,’ but was surprised when a footman promptly admitted him and took his gloves and hat before guiding him to a drawing room.
The first thing he noticed was the overwhelmingly cloying stench of flowers. He smelled them before he saw them, their perfume wafting through the corridor and agitating his senses. Rubbing at his itching nose, he did his best to appear unaffected as he came face to face with both Calliope and the Countess of Hastings. They were surrounded by blossoms in vases that littered every surface, filling the room with bursts of color. There had to be at least fifteen bouquets here along with his, and for some reason that annoyed Nick to no end.
“Good morning, Mr. Burke,” the countess chirped with a sunny smile. “The bouquet you sent Callie was so lovely. And look at all the others that arrived just this morning! Apparently, you’ve made my sister the envy of every unwed chit of the ton, and the object of curiosity for all the unmarried men.”
Nick returned her smile, but his gaze was on Calliope. She remained where she sat, watching him as if he were a snake expected to strike any moment. Her back was ramrod straight, and her hands clenched in her lap. Something within him tightened like a coiled spring at the sight of her, dressed in white with the light of the sun making her skin gleam like burnished bronze. Her hair looked darker in such light, her features softened by loose, framing locks that fell from her coiffure.
“Miss Barrington, you are looking lovely this morning. I hope I haven’t come at an inopportune time.”
“Not at all,” Diana declared when Calliope failed to reply. “In fact, Hastings was just about to escort Callie and I on our daily walk. Why don’t you join us? It would be the perfect chance for the two of you to be seen together.”
“Diana!” Calliope admonished, looking horrified at the thought.
Whether she didn’t want his company or didn’t want her sister speaking of their arrangement out loud, Nick wasn’t certain.
“Oh, do relax, Callie. Mr. Burke, you have no need to worry, as this entire scheme was my idea. So you can rely on me to keep it a secret.”
Nick studied Calliope as he absorbed that revelation. She looked utterly embarrassed to have the countess reveal this, as well as a bit annoyed. He was the reason for her ill humor, which would never do. The woman was terrible at hiding her emotions, which meant he couldn’t be seen in public with her just now. He needed to smooth things over first.
“I would be delighted to accompany you on your walk,” he said to the countess. “But first, I wondered if I might have a word with Miss Barrington.”
Diana’s eyes widened and she gave him a meaningful look, before turning to glance at her sister. “Of course. Callie, I’ll just go get our hats and wraps. I’ll return shortly.”
Calliope came to her feet, a pleading gaze leveled at her sister’s retreating back. “Please—”
“I’ll be right back!” Diana declared as if she hadn’t heard, then bustling from the room.
The door was left open a crack, but they were, for all intents and purposes, alone. It wasn’t a position he’d ever wanted to find himself in with an unmarried woman, but this arrangement wasn’t going to work if he and Calliope couldn’t reach some sort of understanding.
Only, just now he was having a devil of a time remembering how he’d intended to approach this. She continued to avoid looking at him, her jaw clenched and her posture defensive.
Nick cleared his throat and fumbled for words. “I see last night was a smashing success. Are any of these bouquets from Lewes?”
She heaved a labored sigh, as if responding to him proved to be a herculean task. “That one, there.”
He noticed a colorful arrangement that dwarfed all the ones around it. A clear sign that their plan was already working.
He tried to keep his tone light. “It would seem he has taken notice of your new suitor … as has half the ton, it seems.”
“Who would have predicted it?” she snapped. Her eyes blazed like hot coals, and Nick was surprised he didn’t disintegrate on the spot. “Though, perhaps I ought to exercise caution near so many flowers. Wouldn’t want them to freeze to death.”
Nick winced. “Miss Barrington, I understand—”
“No,” she interjected, taking a step toward him with her hands balled into fists at her sides. “You don’t understand, but somehow, after only a few meetings you’ve decided you know all about me. You’ve deduced the reasons for my trouble finding a husband, and of course the fault lies with me. Congratulations on being blessed with such keen powers of observation!”
“You’re right.”
She paused with her lips parted. It seemed she had been prepared to go on castigating him, but he’d taken the wind out of her sails.
Taking her hand, he pulled her toward the loveseat she had abandoned and urged her to sit. He sank down beside her, putting as much space between them as he could—and not just for the sake of appearances. There was a trace of something new in her scent today, something warm and spicy. This close, it broke through the cloying smell of the flowers, tangling with the familiar rose and vanilla to throw his senses into a maelstrom.
“I said, you are right. I don’t understand, and I admitted as much last night. Today, I came here to ask you to explain it to me, because I want to help you.”
“Yes, I suppose your livelihood does depend on it.”
He shrugged, reaching into his breast pocket to retrieve the deck of cards he always kept there. Sitting still for so long without doing something with his hands would drive him batty before long. The old, worn cards snapped and fluttered as he shuffled them.
“Your generous contract is certainly a boon. However, I am not helping you simply for the money. Should you decide to end our arrangement, there are likely dozens of ladies in London who’d claw each other’s eyes out to have me to themselves.”
She scowled, her gaze following his hands as he fanned the cards out, then stacked them back into a neat sheath, before flicking his wrist and slipping one from the deck between two fingers. He’d perfected the maneuver so it looked like magic, when really it was only a
sleight of hand.
“Such humility,” she muttered.
Nick grinned, slipping the card back into the deck. “I told you, goddess … I am always honest. That is why I cannot apologize for my assessment, but I do regret the way I conveyed my observations to you. The truth is … your coldness, your aloofness, are all a facade. That much is clear to me, even after our limited encounters. The night we met you cut me with the sharp edge of your tongue, as well as the crack of your palm across my face. I found you to be both the most frightening—”
“Well, you deserved it!”she cried.
She opened her lips to speak again, but suddenly snapped them shut. He bit his lip, both charmed and chastised by her reaction. It was damned difficult to remember to mind his tongue, to recall that this woman was as innocent as could be.
“I did,” he agreed, opening his palm and sweeping one hand over the deck, making the cards spread out into a perfect half-moon. “But then … I watched you at the ball, listened to your conversations and took note of your mannerisms. I came to a stunning conclusion.”
He glanced up to find her attention on the cards, her gaze curious as she watched him snap them back into a single stack. She flinched at the sudden motion, then met his gaze. Nick raised an eyebrow at her while pulling a card from the deck.
“You are a lot like this card,” he murmured, holding the ace of spades up. “This is the face you present to the world. Simple … unassuming … ordinary. You blend in with the other spinsters and I’d wager that only your looks set you apart. But in truth …”
She gasped when he curled his hand inward to hide the card, then opened it, flicking a new card to face her—this one the queen of hearts.
“This is your true face. You very rarely let anyone see it, and I don’t think you even realize you’ve allowed me a glimpse. What are you afraid of, goddess?”
Calliope blinked, tearing her awed gaze away from the red card to look at him. In her eyes he found a great deal of suspicion and wariness. The woman seemed to walk through life like a soldier constantly ready to do battle. But, why?
With a sigh, she took the queen of hearts from him and cradled it in both hands. Staring down at it, she shook her head.
“What do you see when you look at me?”
If she were any other woman, he might get away with making some flippant remark or a witty quip. But, Nick was hesitant to try to lighten the moment when it was obvious she did not wish to speak of this, but found she had no choice.
“Beauty,” he said. “Striking, blinding, otherworldly beauty. Intelligence. It can be heard in your manner of speech, but it shows in your eyes, too. There is a brightness to them, a sharpness.”
Her brow furrowed as if that confounded her, but she merely went on staring at the card, her thumb smoothing over one of the hearts.
“I am flattered, but you are the exception to my little problem, not the rule. Do you want to know what most men see when they look at me? A conquest, that’s what. The half-breed heathen daughter of a viscount who only became one by chance. A bit of skirt perfect for warming their beds and sating their lascivious needs. A lady in name, but not one they would marry or sire legitimate sons on. I have received over a dozen proposals since my coming out, you know … one of them even from a duke. But, not one of them was for marriage.”
Nick’s hands faltered and his cards went flying, spilling over his legs and down to the floor. He couldn’t think of a time he’d been more stunned—save, perhaps, for the moment Benedict had told him why Calliope wanted to hire him.
“I don’t understand. You are as much a lady as any other. Your father is a viscount, your sister is a countess—”
“And my mother was a Bengali whore who worshiped heathen gods and latched onto an officer of the East India Company, turning him into a scandalous defector.”
“You cannot truly mean that about your mother. I’ve heard the story of your parents, and it sounds to me as if they were very much in love.”
“Of course I don’t believe those things. But, it’s what everyone thinks. And I am her offspring—too Indian to be considered English, and too English to be considered Indian. I’ve never really belonged anywhere, though I have tried my best.”
A strange ache blossomed in his chest in reaction to her words, but he stopped him just short of reaching for her. “Calliope—”
“Do you have any idea how it felt to reach my third Season and realize all my years of schooling and lessons would amount to nothing? To have Diana come out that same year and gain a proposal from Hastings … to stand up at her wedding and realize I might never have my own? My father meant well when he brought me here, ensuring I had the best of everything, and that I was given the same opportunities and advantages as the other young girls. While it was enough to make them accept me, it wasn’t quite enough to erase my lineage. I could be friends with their daughters, but never marry their sons.”
Nick swallowed, his throat burning with acidic bile. Her words stoked something in him, something ugly and primal and dark. It made him want to do bodily harm to anyone who had ever tried to make her feel shame for something she had no control over.
“I can see now how difficult it has been for you,” he ventured, wanting to kick himself for such a gross understatement. “But, I cannot imagine any man wanting you and not being willing to do whatever it took to have you. I find it hard to believe that in all the years since your coming out there hasn’t been a single proposal of marriage.”
Calliope laughed, the sound harsh and humorless. “Oh, there were a few overtures, but directed only at my father and not at me. Mostly from fortune-hunters who’d heard rumors of a dowry. No one knew the amount, but they were willing to take the chance in order to find out. My father sent them all away, content to allow me to choose my own husband. Only … well, until now I had given up hope that I’d ever get to make such a choice.”
Her expression softened as she stared at the flowers filling a table near the door … the largest bouquet in the bunch looming over the rest.
“Lewes is different, then?”
The corner of her mouth twitched in the beginnings of a smile, and for the first time Nick noticed that her upper lip was slightly plumper than the lower. It was more obvious in profile, and quite the most mesmerizing thing he’d ever seen.
“He is kind, and has never once given me a lascivious glance, or masked innuendo with flowery speech. We have become friends of a sort, and I think that is what I would want in a husband. Someone I actually like.”
“And you like him very much.”
“I do.”
“Then you will have him. With my help, he’ll be begging you to marry him in no time.”
She offered him back the card. “That was an interesting trick, Mr. Burke … and an illuminating demonstration. But you understand now why I must present myself a certain way in public? Why I cannot flirt or flaunt my bosom, or brag about the amount of my inheritance? If I do those things, I will not be treated like the other women who do them. I won’t be laughed off or called silly, simpering, or gauche. The names they will label me with would be far worse. My spotless reputation is all I have. It is the one thing that allows me to move among society with any sort of respectability.”
Nick gathered the cards he’d just plucked from the floor and sifted them into order, before stashing them back in his pocket.
“Of course, I understand. We will simply think up other ways to force Lewes to see you as something other than the sister of his friend. I think we are off to a good start already.”
“Indeed, Mr. Burke.”
Nick draped an arm along the back of the loveseat, “Come, goddess … may we dispense with the formalities now? At least, in private. If we are to be co-conspirators, we can very well use one another’s first names.” He trailed his first finger idly along the back of her arm awaiting her response.
Calliope stiffened in reaction to his touch, and Nick froze, the pad of his finger hovering at her
elbow. The gesture had seemed completely harmless, done only because if he wasn’t doing something with his hands he became restless. He’d acted without thinking, without realizing the effect it would have on him.
Every hair on his body seemed to stand on end, reacting to an invisible current flowing from where he touched her, to where the smooth, slender arm broke out in gooseflesh. The sound of her breathing had halted, her large eyes widening. He drowned in those deep, dark eyes, searching for some hint, some inkling of an answering response in her.
It wasn’t as if he’d never touched her before. Hell, he’d had every inch of her pressed against him, had filled his palms with the firm globes of her buttocks. Yet, that sensitive, bared patch of skin at the back of her arm felt like the softest thing he’d ever touched.
“Very well,” she said, her sudden words jolting him back to his senses.
Nick curled his hand into a fist and pulled it away, relieved that she’d spoken when she had. Another moment of silent staring, and he would have done something unforgivably stupid.
“Dominick,” she added with a slight nod.
His lips ticked with a smile that never fully formed. How could he grin when there was nothing light or humorous about what had just happened? Odd, how such innocent contact had overwhelmed him in a way their first touch had not. Perhaps because he’d been too drunk that night, too intent on seduction and securing his next influx of funds to realize that she’d never been touched.
Because, had he known that, he might have taken the time to notice what he readily saw now—that she was like a violin string wound taut, primed and yearning and just waiting for the right touch to make her sing. He could make her sing. He would kiss and nibble and lick and fuck a range of sounds from deep within her throat. He could make her forget the very existence of Martin Lewes.
Fuck.
He shot to his feet, pacing away from her and willing the erection in his breeches to disappear. A whore … that was what he needed. Tonight, he would find one and slake his lust. It had been weeks since he’d last been with a woman, and that was his problem. Calliope was beautiful, but so were countless other women. He’d reacted to her as he might have anyone else who smelled so sweet and sat so close and had such full, kissable lips.
Making of a Scandal (The Gentleman Courtesans Book 3) Page 10
