by Lynn Kerstan
The soft sounds of cotton and heavy taffeta tickled at his ears and skin. There was a long silence then, and he glanced into the mirror. She was turned away from him, gloved hands fumbling with the buttons near her waist. It was more difficult buttoning than unbuttoning. He considered pointing out how much easier it would be if she took off her gloves. He even thought to go help her, but didn’t dare to turn around.
She had the courage to face him naked, but he lacked the nerve to let her see him swollen with urgency. At all costs, she must not see that. It proved him the lust-driven, slimy thing she already thought him, which would put him at an awesome disadvantage for the negotiation to come.
It would be that, he reflected with a mixture of dread and excitement. He would not count the cost, even as he demanded more of Clare than her elegant body. Money could not buy what he desired from her.
He wanted her to want him. To writhe under him with passion in her eyes and words of need on her lips. He wanted all the fire she held so coldly in check.
Above all, he wanted her to stay with him. The idea shook him. He set the figurine carefully on the mantel. It was the cool finger on the trigger that made the best shot. Bryn realized he had to control his rising excitement at the prospect of a challenge. He must not leap into fantasies of a long relationship with a female he’d barely met and scarcely knew. Most of all, he had to control her. And he knew, with the edgy excitement of a born gamester, that it would not be easy.
As she fastened the endless line of buttons, he probed for her weakness. What he found unnerved him. She had no weaknesses, save her need for money, and that was trivial in comparison to his own vulnerability. He wanted her more than he wanted the game. Until now he’d never gambled with any real concern about the outcome, and even losing brought a new challenge—the rematch. He never lost twice.
This time, winning was more important than he was ready to admit. Bryn sensed the imbalance and knew he was overcompensating with the arrogance of a born aristocrat who had money to spend.
“Very nice,” he said in a deliberately impassive tone.
Clare abandoned the last two buttons at her neck when he gestured for her to sit down. She did, wrapping her long hair into a chignon and securing it with pins.
Somewhat awkwardly, he sidestepped onto the platform and settled onto his chair, relieved at her failure to look at him. Safely concealed behind the desk, he leaned back and folded his arms. “Yes, I believe we can come to terms, Miss Easton.” The formality seemed odd, in light of what had just transpired. “Naturally I regret the uncomfortable exercise, but you could not expect me to—”
“Buy a pig in a poke?”
At first he could not believe he’d heard it.
“You have not examined my teeth,” she continued. “Please do so if you wish and have no concern about my comfort. I expect we shall deal better if there are no misunderstandings.”
His fingers dug into his ribs. Exactly when had he passed the reins to this astonishing creature? “Do you understand, young woman, what I expect of you?”
“Not in detail. I believe there will be some pain and a little bleeding.”
“That’s not what I meant!” Regretting the outburst, he schooled his voice. “But while we’re on the subject, it’s true the first time is rarely pleasurable. I shall most certainly endeavor to cause you as little discomfort as possible.”
“I have told you, my lord, that you need not trouble yourself about my comfort.”
“Devil take it, lady!” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Forget the first time. It’s not important.”
“Not important!” Her eyes blazed, only for a second. “You will pay dearly for that one night. What else could possibly matter?”
He sighed. “We have a grave misunderstanding, my dear. I will not pay you ten thousand guineas … no, not even ten guineas … for the dubious satisfaction of claiming your virginity. Did Florette not explain to you?”
She made a helpless gesture.
“I want a mistress, Clare. A woman exclusively mine for as long as we choose to stay together. The fact that our relationship must begin with your innocence is my personal predilection, which I need not explain, any more than you are willing to tell me any of the things you seem determined to conceal. This is not a matter of one night, the taking of a virgin and a payoff in the morning.”
There was a tense silence. “How long then?” she asked falteringly. “How many … nights?”
“Until I am finished with you.”
“I see.” Clare smoothed her skirt, considered for a moment, and rose. “Please, may I have my hat?”
“Not until you hear me out.” He grinned. “Sit, Miss Easton. You have come so far already. How can it hurt to stay the course?”
“The course,” she said acidly, “has become very rocky.” But she perched on the edge of her chair and gazed at him with admirable calm.
Again he marveled at the control of this woman. She had confronted, he knew with a shot of insight, challenges worse than this. And lost, or she would not be here now. His voice softened. “I am finding all this difficult to explain. To be honest, I’ve never had to explain it before. Did Florette tell you nothing about me?”
“Almost nothing.” Her lips sloped in that enticing, elusive smile that intrigued him. “But I insisted on seeing you before we met.”
“Indeed? At the time, I thought she staged that encounter so that I could see you.”
“Florette’s knives,” Clare said wisely, “have a double edge. She told me nothing but your name.”
“Likewise.” He laughed and caught a responsive gleam in her eye. For a moment they were united against Flo’s conspiracy and the sting of being caught in her trap.
“I would ask more of you, Clare,” he said softly, “than what you had thought to yield. And I shall, of course, pay you accordingly. There is a small house, on Half-Moon Lane, fully staffed, for you to live in. I wish to settle you there, today if possible. I hope that you will come to me freely, ready to agree to certain other provisions, which I shall explain later, and prepared to work out a comfortable and mutually enriching relationship.”
“Not today,” she said quickly. “I had not understood the terms of your contract, nor truly met you before this morning. I must have time to consider.” Standing, she held out her hand. “My hat.”
With reluctance, he took it from the drawer and came down off the platform to stand in front of her. She gazed at him, her eyes smoky with unhappiness. His heart sank. Gently, he placed the hat on her head and let his fingers linger for a moment against her smooth cheek. “You have not truly met me even now, Clare Easton. I very much regret how I … what I … oh, damn! Just give me another chance to set things right. Please.”
She stepped back and lowered the veil. “Florette will send word,” she said ambiguously. For a moment she regarded him through dark blue silk. “Should you not summon the carriage?”
Swallowing an oath, he went to the bell cord and gave it a vicious tug. Clare was already at the door when Walters opened it.
She turned her head slightly. “I must say, Lord Caradoc, that this has been a most interesting morning.”
Before he could think to respond, she vanished down the hall.
3
“The man is insufferable.” Clare paced the salon with short jerky steps, her gloved hands fisted into balls.
Florette stirred honey into her tea. “But will he have you, my dear?”
“I’m not surprised he has to pay for a woman. You should have seen him, Flo. The peacock actually built a stage for himself. He was poised there, with his hands on his hips just so.” Clare spun around and assumed a languid, sardonic pose, chin tilted, eyebrows arched, nostrils flaring slightly. “Insolence personified, he was, with light pouring over him through the windows. It was all I could do to keep from laughing. He looked down on me, a long way down his nose, and said something obnoxious. Then he got worse.”
“But will he have
you?” Flo repeated patiently.
“I daresay. Only because he can’t read my mind. If he knew what I thought of him, he would turn his disgusting attentions elsewhere. But it would not occur to him that any woman might find him lacking.”
“None has ever done so, to my knowledge.”
Clare glared at her.
Flo lifted a negligent hand. “Present company excepted, of course. Obviously he made a cake of himself, which does not surprise me. You are not what he expected.”
“And what was that? A simpering twit? A lecherous barmaid? What exactly does a vulgar libertine expect when he opens his wallet to buy a virgin?”
“A good deal less. I have provided the earl with every woman he has taken under his protection and can tell you that he never encountered a situation like the one he faced today. You ought to spare him a little sympathy, knowing what it is to founder in deep water.”
“So I do.” Clare ceased her pacing and rested her hands on the back of a chair. “But I am desperate, and he is not. In any case, he is willing to see me again, to negotiate the terms of our arrangement.” Her teeth clenched. “He has a great many terms.”
“And you do not feel you can agree with them?”
“Perhaps I could. At this point, I’d agree to almost anything. But what I cannot do is tolerate that vain, degenerate rakehell. You’ll have to find me someone else, Florette.”
“He’s handsome enough—”
“And doesn’t he know it! Whenever was any man so incredibly arrogant? Can you imagine what I’ll do when he starts ticking off rules like a headmaster?”
“I wish I could see it,” Flo said with a laugh. “But since you’ve taken his measure, what have you to lose by hearing him out? Perhaps he’ll be more amiable when next you meet. In any case, I suspect he was a bit nervous this morning.”
“Nervous! That one? He hasn’t a nerve in his body.” Clare frowned. “Although, for just one moment, he seemed almost … but no. I must have mistaken him. From beginning to end his behavior was insupportable.”
Florette sighed. She’d expected Bryn to be much kinder to the girl. Clare was fragile as thin glass, for all her poise. Had he not seen that? Perhaps this tangle was her own fault. She’d wanted to make him curious, but it seemed she’d only made him defensive. Or offensive, from all accounts. The earl had not begun well, that was certain, but he’d accomplished something important. Clare was angry. Furious. Stomping the salon like a provoked bull. That was, Flo thought, very very good. Worth the risk of sending her back into the arena with Bryn Talgarth.
“Sit down, my dear,” she said pacifically. “Have some tea and tell me all about it.”
“I can’t sit down. Which reminds me, he’s got this chair, all carved wood and gold brocade padding, that whirls around in a circle. He uses it like a throne. And he leans forward with his elbows propped on the desk and his hands like this”—she templed her fingers under her chin—“and says, Well, Miss Easton, what is it that makes you worth ten thousand pounds? I wanted to tell him, You do!” She chuckled. “Actually, I did tell him that, in a way. What I really wanted was to double the price. Triple it. There must be someone else, Florette.”
“Probably so. Many would pay a fortune for you, although few could afford it. And those who could—” She shivered delicately. “I do not allow such men in my establishment. Come here, Clare. Sit down and listen to me very carefully.”
The serious tone sent Clare obediently to a chair across from Flo, who gestured at the tea tray. Clare shook her head and folded her hands in her lap.
“My dear, the same … taste … that convinces a man to pay a high price to bed a virgin is often mated to cruelty. I will not entrust your safety to such a man. Such is not the case with the Earl of Caradoc. And no matter how angry he makes you, nor how angry you make him, he will never do you harm.”
Clare stared at her folded hands for a long time. When she looked up, her eyes held the same controlled blankness that first drove Flo to try and help her. “The truth is, I haven’t many choices, have I? I must acquire the money, and there is no other way.”
“You know there is.”
Clare smiled and shook her head. “Let us be frank. You were acquainted with my mother, many years ago, and for the sake of that friendship you wish to assist me. I am grateful beyond words. But you’ve lost money on the ’Change, too much to consider making me a loan I’ll never be able to repay unless I do later what I am trying to do now.”
“And you are too proud to accept a gift.” Flo clucked into her teacup and set it on the tray. “I have more than enough money from selling the Hothouse to retire comfortably. In the country, far from temptation, I shall not be so eager to take flyers on tips from my patrons. Playing the ’Change is like gambling, if you do it the way I have done. Somehow the money never seemed real, and I never understood it was gone until too late. Away from London, pottering in my garden, I shall let my banker invest for three percent and dwindle into a cozy old age.”
Clare looked mulish. “Whatever your financial circumstances, I’ll not become your dependent. Good heavens, you know better than anyone the circumstances that drive a woman to sell herself. And I’m not planning on a career. I’ve only to endure one man’s lust, take his money, and fulfill my obligations.”
Flo regarded her steadily. “Then you will meet the earl tomorrow?”
“I suppose so.” Clare spoke in a resigned voice. “But don’t be surprised if he turns me away. I suspect he is playing with me, like a little boy taking apart a watch to figure out what makes it tick. Once he does, I’ll be out with the rubbish.”
“It is possible,” Flo said, “that he can put you back together again. He has a way with inventions, I hear.”
“You are doing nothing,” Clare said between tight lips, “to win your case for him. Whirling chairs indeed!” She picked up an almond biscuit. “Just why is it, if he is so different from the men you won’t let me meet, that the lofty Earl of Caradoc insists on bedding a virgin?”
“Ah, that you must ask him.”
“Don’t you know?”
“Of course I do. But as you made me promise I would tell him absolutely nothing about you, not even your real name, I owe the same discretion to him. Whatever you discover about each other, or choose to reveal about yourselves, is not my concern.”
“Not even a tiny little hint?” Clare’s dimple winked.
“Oh, perhaps one or two, between women. We do start at a disadvantage in most ways, although we control the greatest power of all. As for the earl, I can tell you that he will never break his word or fail to honor an agreement. He will also”—she reached for the teapot—“see to it that all agreements go his way. He has snares concealed in his traps, and pits dug underneath.”
“Then I shall stay airborne at all times. What else? You said two hints.”
Flo grinned. “Not precisely. Only this: If you are bound on the course you’ve set, you will do no better than Caradoc. And if you won’t see him again, I cannot help you unless you accept the money I’ve offered. It is your choice, my dear.”
Clare brushed crumbs from her skirt. “I have lived too long on the kindness of those who could not afford it, Florette. And I tried too long to make my own way, without success. Had I only myself to consider … but you know how things are. And if you say that odious coxcomb is the best you can produce, so be it. At the least, I’ll meet with him one more time. Better to get it over with, so let’s set the encounter for tomorrow morning. Will you let him know?”
“I’ll ask him to send a carriage for you at eleven o’clock. Would you care to stay here tonight?”
Clare shuddered. “No, I’ll return to the post house and come back in time for the appointment. You needn’t get up so early. Just be sure someone will let me in.”
Flo laughed. Even the servants rarely stirred before noon in this house. “Come at nine, and we’ll have breakfast together.”
“I don’t dare eat anything before
I see him again,” Clare said with a grimace. “The Earl of Caradoc turns my stomach.”
4
When Clare was gone, Bryn went to the place where she’d stood and turned to face the mirror. He could see himself clearly, as Clare must have seen her own naked body. As she must have seen his eyes, looking back at her.
What had possessed him? Even now, with the results limned on his memory, he wasn’t sure why he ordered her to unclothe herself. He’d never done that before, with any other woman. Nor was he certain how Clare felt about it. From her tranquil expression and fathomless eyes, she might well have been proud to show herself. She had every reason to be.
More likely she thought him a degenerate goat.
His gaze lowered and caught sight of a small button on the carpet. It was blue, like her dress, with a tail of dark thread. He picked it up and rolled it between his fingers. Already the ten minutes since she left seemed an eternity. In another hour he’d be climbing the walls unless he found something to distract him.
Stuffing the button in his pocket, he went to his desk and scribbled a note on the back on an engraved card. Robert Lacey always had interesting plans for the evening.
BRYN HAD JUST abandoned an untouched luncheon, served on a tray at his desk, when the viscount’s reply was delivered. He prepared himself for an exercise in cryptography. Lacey’s handwriting had been the despair of Wellington, who frequently summoned Colonel Lord Talgarth to decipher an obscure dispatch. This one appeared to say Frog Wetherford’s balls. Ten. Pick me up horse in Claridges. Claws too. Sorry. Lazy.
No challenge at all. He was to pick up Claude and Lacey in his carriage at ten o’clock. Horse had to be house, presumably Lacey’s, and apparently Lord Wetherford was hosting a ball.
He groaned. High-stakes gaming better suited his mood, but for some doubtless compelling reason Lacey had to do the pretty tonight. Damn right he ought to be sorry. But they could look in on the ball and escape early to one of the clubs. No one expected Lord Heydon or the Earl of Caradoc to remain long at a society affair.
