Brixham eyed him thoughtfully, rubbing his chin with the tips of his fingers and thumb. “I’m perfectly willing to accept your offer, your grace,” he admitted through a sigh. “But I think Charlotte will be difficult to convince. It must be acknowledged that you hardly know her, and she’s turned down several gentlemen who’ve attempted to court her, one or two she knew quite well from childhood.”
Inexplicably, that acknowledgment irked him. “Perhaps if I asked her rather than having you insist on accepting my proposal, she’ll be a bit more…agreeable?”
He’d purposely phrased that as a question so as not to insult the earl while letting the man know he would never use force or threats with Charlotte because they obviously didn’t work. Brixham badly wanted to dump the burdensome Charlotte in his lap, but the man couldn’t know that the lady was already his for the taking and coercion would never be an issue.
At last the earl snickered and shook his head. “Of course I can hardly deny that the match is most excellent, your grace, but Charlotte can be quite a challenge.”
“Then I suppose she’ll be my problem to handle,” he replied through a sigh.
“Yes, well, she’s a stubborn girl,” the man continued, “quite clever, even devious, when she wants something.”
You have no idea.
He smiled. “I should like that sort of challenge, I think.”
Brixham remained quiet for another moment or two, scratching his side whiskers, his mind clearly absorbing the details, reveling in the importance to be granted him by becoming a relation by marriage to the wealthy Duke of Newark. It didn’t take him long to acquiesce.
With a soft grunt, he pushed his thick body out of the chair. “I suppose we can work out the details later in the week.”
Colin knew what he was thinking and waved a palm, shaking his head minutely. “No hurry. I’m less concerned about her dowry than I am about an heir.”
Brixham’s features drew back into a smile of genuine relief. “Very well, your grace,” he said, straightening with renewed confidence. “If you wait here, I’ll get my sister.”
Colin nodded once but didn’t move.
It took only a moment or two before the cunning Charlotte entered the room, her features awash with a measure of quick surprise at first sight of him, then turning smug with the tiny smile that crept across her lips. She wore a simple day gown in deep blue, cut squarely across her bosom and tapering into tight stays before falling in layers of silk to the floor. She truly had a magnificent figure, and the only thought to cross his mind was to wonder how this particularly well-endowed female managed to sing so grandly wearing such a tight corset. But then that question remained highly irrelevant at the moment. He’d figure that out soon enough.
With resignation, Colin stood as required, but offered her nothing by way of expression.
“Your grace,” she said softly, offering him a tiny curtsy.
“Lady Charlotte,” he drawled.
Seconds of uncomfortable silence droned as she glanced from him to her brother and back again. Brixham took the cue, clearing his throat as he moved to make a gentlemanly exit. “Well then, I suppose I’ll leave the two of you alone to chat.” Pausing at the doors, he added, “I’ll just be down the hall in my study should either of you need me.”
Colin could feel the tension crackle between the lady and her brother, and he truly had to wonder at the nature of their relationship as he watched the man give his sister a sharp glance before quitting the room, closing the parlor doors behind him. She, however, seemed to take it all in stride, smiling smugly, hands clasped behind her as she kept her attention focused on him.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” she said breezily.
His brows rose at her attempt at a casual air. “Are you.”
It wasn’t a question at all, and she obviously didn’t feel the need to answer it. But after a few lingering seconds of silence, the uncomfortable anticipation of the moment overcame her. She knew precisely why he called on her, though it apparently just dawned on her that he wasn’t about to make any part of their meeting easy. He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting, taking particular note of the rosy flush creeping into her cheeks. In truth, he was likely more nervous than she, though he’d never admit that to anyone, and certainly he could hide it better.
Purposely eyeing her up and down, he remarked, “You look lovely today.”
He exaggerated the compliment of course, but she took it in stride, fairly challenging him with her direct gaze and rather flat expression.
“Thank you,” she replied with a lift of a brow. “And may I say, sir, that you are as charming as always.”
A grin threatened to escape him. “Indeed.”
For several long seconds they stared at each other. Then taking a full breath for confidence, she asked bluntly, “Are you here to offer for me, your grace?”
His nerves caught fire at her forthrightness. “You’re quite the presumptuous thing, aren’t you?”
She actually smiled, not in the least perturbed by his irritation, casting him a sideways glance as she began to move in the direction of the settee. “I can’t for a minute think of another reason you’d call on me, sir.”
“Perhaps to formally turn your gracious offer down?”
She faltered briefly in her stride, her forehead creasing a fraction. She hadn’t expected that response from him, and he felt an absurd satisfaction in knowing he’d taken the advantage away from her, if only briefly.
Then her mouth widened into a full grin as she continued moving slowly toward him, her gaze holding his. “Nicely put, your grace, and yet I can’t help but recall the…enthusiasm you expressed the night we met at the opera.”
“Enthusiasm?” he repeated, keeping his voice and features prosaic as she sauntered up to stand before him.
She looked up innocently. “You’d call it something else? I wouldn’t.”
Colin couldn’t decide if her audacious resolve angered or aroused him. He studied her silently for a moment, noting her creamy, faintly freckled skin, the intelligence in her large, blue eyes that shone brightly even without the bold application of cosmetics, her high cheekbones, and the few, curling wisps of strawberry blond hair that escaped the plait woven from her crown to the middle of her back. Yes, he was very, very enthusiastic, though he refused to admit it to her now.
“I’d probably call it entrapment,” he said at last, his gaze melding with hers in a deliberate attempt to intimidate. It didn’t appear to work.
She pressed her lips together to suppress a giggle. “Nonsense. You’re free to turn me down and yet you haven’t because you know I offer you something not only tempting, but necessary, for both of us.” Lowering her voice, she leaned toward him to slyly add, “You’re as excited about the prospect as I am, though I do understand your excitement stems from a slightly different motive.”
Slightly different? Their motives couldn’t be more polarized. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers to keep from reaching for her neck and throttling her—or drawing her close so he could caress her throat while exploring that beautiful mouth of hers again.
Quietly, he replied, “I’m excited about many things, as I’m certain you know. I’m not, however, the least bit excited about having the choice of a wife taken from me, by anyone, regardless of the reason.”
She watched him, her head tipped to one side minutely. “I suppose, in a manner of speaking, I’ve taken the wind from your sails, haven’t I? That must be very difficult for a gentleman.”
He almost snorted. “I appreciate your concern, but I think my sails are performing just fine, Charlotte.”
Cheeks pinkening, she shifted from one foot to the other. “I do realize that as a man you need variety in your prospects, and your settling for one lady could become an exercise in boredom. However, as I’ve said before, faithfulness in marriage is not one of my concerns. We will both benefit greatly from this union, and I assure you, sir, nobody but the two o
f us will ever know the truth.”
Her simple admission, hitting home so bluntly, shook him a bit, and he stifled a caustic response. Feeling a rising irritation within, he kneaded the tight muscles of his neck with one hard palm as he turned his back on her and strode toward a lone velveteen chair beside the cold grate, its garish, tangerine seat cushion as threadbare as the settee’s. Standing behind it, he interlocked his fingers and rested his forearms on the high back, facing her again with a gnawing in his gut.
She crossed her arms defensively just under her breasts, seemingly unaware how it pushed her cleavage up and out provocatively.
“In my experience, variety can be highly overrated, my Lady Charlotte,” he murmured seconds later, eyeing her up and down with deliberate slowness. “Your generosity in this matter is no doubt unmatched, but really, why would I want to stray with Lottie English warming my sheets every night?”
His daring question flustered her. Her face flushed with warmth anew as she followed his gaze to her bosom, then spun on her heels at once, walking toward the far window to stare outside at a garden totally hidden by the blur of the cold, persisting rain.
Another long silence ensued, though he took her embarrassment and the uneasy strain between them in stride. He intended to remain formidable in his approach, to let her know without any doubt that although he might be giving in to her desire for a convenient marriage, he would remain the dominant presence in their relationship, that even under the spell of her Lottie English persona he would not be made a fool. Still, even watching her now, catching her off guard by his unexpected arrival and bold, lascivious comment, he couldn’t shrug her prettiness aside, nor ignore her cleverness, sophistication, and radiant sexual appeal, all held modestly in check beneath the guise of a gently bred lady.
Oh, yes. She would please him for a long time to come.
Feigning defeat, he swallowed his trepidation and announced, “Very well, my lady. I suppose it appears that I have no choice but to ask you formally to become my wife.”
He knew immediately, by her rigid posture and the fact that she didn’t cast him even the slightest glance, that he hadn’t offered her the most flattering proposal. Yet what could she expect after coercing him? Flowers and a ring on bended knee? Groaning at his own ineptitude, he squeezed the back of the chair and added softly, “Would you kindly do me the honor of marrying me, Charlotte?”
It was the best he could do under the circumstances, and they both knew she had no intention of denying him.
After several long, tense seconds, she leaned her head back a little and very faintly sighed. He waited for a reply, knowing what her answer would be and yet keenly aware of how dry his mouth had become as the time ticked by in maddening silence.
Finally, she turned to face him again, clasping her hands behind her, standing tall and unintimidated, her features calm and unreadable.
“I would be most honored to accept your proposal of marriage, your grace,” she said somewhat breathlessly.
An unanticipated mixture of apprehension and unbridled lust washed over him and he straightened, realizing he’d been tightly clutching the back of the chair. Collecting himself, he nodded once, unsure if more were required of him in response to her answer, then deciding it didn’t matter. She did nothing but watch him, thoughts hidden, and after another moment or two he elected to just carry on and get the terms of their agreement out in the open, so to speak, to avoid any misunderstanding on her part as to the conditions of their marriage that was now a certainty with her acceptance.
After rubbing the chair’s velvety back with his palms, he moved away from it, clasping his hands behind him as he first stared at the grate, then turned to face her fully from across the room.
“Now that our…betrothal is settled,” he announced matter-of-factly, “there are a few minor details we need to discuss.”
“Of course,” she replied. “I shall be happy to plan the wedding, though I would like to marry as soon as possible.”
“So would I,” he agreed, catching himself before he told her his reasons differed markedly from hers. “And I’m certain you’ll plan a lovely wedding, though that’s not what I meant.”
She frowned just enough for him to realize she never expected him to make demands or that he might come to the marriage with his own stipulations, and such knowledge of her ignorance encouraged him. The thought of regaining an advantage over her made him hold back a grin of total satisfaction.
“Very well, your grace,” she yielded with a slight tip of her head. “I suppose I should expect you to have concerns.”
He did smile at that, strictly for her benefit. “Concerns, no. Requirements, yes.”
She bit her lip hesitantly, standing as regally as possible in front of the window, one hand still behind her, the other now nervously tinkering with a golden chain at her throat. “I already told you I will be a most appropriate wife, in every manner possible. I can’t imagine what other requirements there might be.” Suddenly, a look of horror crossed her features. “You don’t expect me to quit—”
“I will never stop you from performing, Charlotte. You needn’t worry about that.”
She slumped minutely, her relief palpable.
He waited, allowing her curiosity to build, anticipating the coming moment immensely. Finally, he shrugged and said, “No, I’m talking about bedroom requirements. We need to discuss those before we become…intimate.”
She actually gasped, jaw dropping, her eyes growing wide in offense.
Colin remained outwardly unmoved by her surprise, inwardly delighted by her embarrassment as he noticed her cheeks color with another magnificent flush.
“We do not need to discuss any such thing,” she countered in quiet defiance. “I believe I already told you I’ll provide you an heir. There’s nothing more to say in that regard, your grace.”
Colin began a slow saunter toward her, hands still behind him, brows slightly furrowed, his mouth hinting at a frown. “It’s not that simple. Of course I expect you to provide me an heir in exchange for the trouble that comes with the binding ties of matrimony, but there’s more involved than just bedding you until you carry.”
She blinked, pulling back a little as he neared her, apparently dumbfounded as her fingers and thumb now rubbed the chain between them fiercely.
He held her stunned gaze with candor in his own, lowering his voice to continue. “Though I have every intention of claiming you as mine on our wedding night, I have no intention of getting you with child at that time. I’m not expecting an heir immediately, nor do I want one that quickly.”
She lowered her hand from her neck and hugged herself, looking him up and down in stark bewilderment. “That’s—that’s not even logical, sir. A man of your position needs a son and I need—” Drawing a full breath, she raised her chin a fraction and said with forced confidence, “We have an agreement.”
“Ah, yes. The agreement.” He folded his arms across his chest as he towered over her, holding her beautifully stunned gaze. “Let me explain my position on that, Lady Charlotte. I will fund a tour for you, but only on my terms, and at a time of my choosing.”
She gaped at him.
“For my trouble,” he continued, “I expect a bit of selfish time with you before you carry my child, then hand him to a nanny and a house full of servants to raise while you leave for the Continent on a wave of good riddance, your piano in tow. Until then, you may continue singing here, in London as you do now, and I will continue to support you and your endeavor wholeheartedly, as long as you are home every night to warm my sheets.” Smiling wryly, he leaned very close to her to murmur, “I want what I bargained for, Charlotte, and that’s you, in my bed, taking care of my personal desires before I allow you to carry on with yours.”
Blushing furiously now, anger replacing her chagrin, she narrowed her eyes and glared at him. “So, I’m to remain your plaything until you grow tired of me? How convenient for you.”
He tried not to show
surprise at the question that had, frankly, never crossed his mind. And he had to give her credit for retrieving her nerve and standing her ground in what had to be a most uncomfortable discussion for a lady.
“I don’t believe I said that,” he replied, “though I seem to recall it was part of your argument when trying to convince me that marriage between us would be a good thing.”
She hesitated, then brushed over that bit of honesty. “And just how, pray tell, do you expect to keep me in your bed and childless at the same time, sir?”
Colin righted himself as he rubbed his jaw with a palm, uncertain whether she intended to rile him with such a ridiculous question, or if she truly lacked imagination concerning the sexual act. “Would you like me to explain it to you here?” he asked, his tone low and challenging.
“Absolutely not,” she seethed, glancing quickly to the door as she took a step away from him.
She dug her fingers into her upper arms, no doubt to keep herself from punching him.
“What I do expect, Lady Charlotte, is loyalty, devotion, and compliance from you during our most intimate interludes together,” he reassured her softly. “And for that, I will give you everything you’ve ever wanted, in time.”
For a long moment she didn’t move, didn’t back down, and didn’t speak. Colin knew perfectly well that he wasn’t being at all unreasonable, and she knew it, too, which likely explained her reluctance to argue with him further. He recognized the conflicts that guided her as she struggled to find words to agree with him, or at the very least acknowledge his demands. But he now felt certain she wouldn’t refuse him any of them.
“It’s getting late and I need to leave,” he said, his tone deep and contemplative.
She visibly relaxed. “Of course, your grace. I will be in touch with you regarding the wedding preparations and members of your family who—”
He cut her off by reaching out and grabbing her around the waist, yanking her forcefully against him as he brought his mouth down hard upon hers.
The Duke’s Indiscretion Page 7
