He was convinced once he bedded Jane he would no longer think about her. He’d never had a problem forgetting about a woman before. Commitment made him uneasy, and he had no desire to converse with a woman other than how best to remove her clothing in the bedchamber. He knew he was jaded when it came to the female sex and the notion of love. He didn’t even believe in the emotion. Countless disgruntled men came to his Gray’s Inn chambers seeking his aid. He’d made a living listening to their marital problems and how love had been an illusion that had deserted them.
As for his unexplainable and maddening attraction to Jane, it was the challenge, the chase. It couldn’t be anything more for him.
“I never mentioned love,” Daniel said simply.
“Then what?”
“I’ve known you since our school days, Gareth. I’ve never seen you agitated over a woman.”
Gareth clenched his fist and shot Daniel a withering glare. “I’m not agitated.”
He wasn’t, was he? He never let women get under his skin.
But Jane was different.
There was more to her. She’d been betrayed by her husband, but she was a survivor. As for Simon Marbury, she had no idea of the man’s criminal activities. She didn’t know about the inferior cannons. She had no idea Private Stevens was lying in a hospital bed with his leg blown off, worried about how he would be able to support his wife and newborn child.
Jane was innocent. As innocent as the wounded and dead soldiers from Simon’s cannons. Gareth felt overwhelming lust for her yes…but he also admired her for surviving her own tragedy. And even more disturbing, he genuinely liked her.
A wry grimace thinned his lips. “I’ll be fine.”
Daniel regarded him closely “I’ve known you a long time, Gareth. Resisting the lady may not be as easy as you think.”
Chapter Twelve
Jane woke the following morning with a pounding headache. She felt as if her head was in a vise, and her mouth was as dry as sandpaper.
She dressed with the help of her maid and made her way to the dining room. She was sipping a cup of hot coffee when Graves announced she had a gentleman caller.
“I put him in the parlor, my lady,” Graves said as he held out a silver salver to reveal an embossed calling card resting upon it.
Her heart pounded as she reached for the card.
Simon? Or Gareth?
It must be one of the two.
She hoped it wasn’t Simon Marbury. After all, what could she say to him after what she’d learned last night?
Her heart pounded as she read the name on the calling card and realized Gareth was here. Memories of the prior evening rose in her mind. She’d wantonly thrown herself at him, and he’d responded by unceremoniously banging on her front door and thrusting her into her aunt’s arms.
Goodness! How could she face him today? She took several deep breaths and gathered her courage before confronting her caller.
Gareth was staring out the window overlooking the street when she entered the parlor. He turned when she closed the door.
He looked fierce and broodingly handsome dressed in a moss colored coat, buff trousers, and gleaming Hessians, and she wondered why she had ever paid any attention to Simon Marbury at all.
Gareth strode over to her side, instantly making her pulse leap. “I came to check on you,” he said. “Are you well?”
Jane rubbed her temple. “As well as can be expected,” she said with a small smile.
He flashed a crooked smile. “Ah, the effects of too much drink.”
“Is that the only reason you’re here?” A small part of her wanted his visit to be more than social decorum dictated.
He took a step closer. “I was concerned.”
His nearness kindled feelings of fire. “I was unsure if I’d ever see you again.”
“I find I cannot stay away from you.”
Her heart did a little jump at his words. “I thought I had somehow scared you off by my unladylike behavior.”
“You mean your offer to become lovers?”
She flushed. She hadn’t expected him to ask her such a forthright question. She smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her skirt. “Well…yes.”
He took her hand and led her to a settee.
“Tell me, Jane. Why are you so intent on finding a lover?”
If she had a mirror, she suspected her complexion would be beet red. She’d never anticipated answering such a question by a man when she’d written her list of eligible lovers. She didn’t want to answer, but Gareth sat beside her, his gaze unwavering.
She clutched her hands in her lap. “Many widows have affairs and society turns a blind eye.”
“Yes, but you’re not just any widow.”
“Would you ask me such a question if I were a man?” she said.
“Most assuredly, no.”
The unfairness of his answer made her spine stiffen. “Then why ask me?”
“Because you are not a man, and you are not a woman who is accustomed to taking lovers.”
“How can you assume that?”
“I just know. Even though you were married for years, you are innocent.”
The maddening hint of arrogance in his voice was irritating. “I’m hardly a virgin.”
“Tell me about your husband,” he said.
She was taken aback by the change of topic. “You must know what everyone says. Charles shot himself after his prized stallion lost a race.”
“I’m not interested in public knowledge. I want you to tell me about your marriage.”
“I’d rather not,” she said tensely.
“I need to know, Jane. Did he abuse you?”
She started. She didn’t want to think of her unhappy marriage. Not here. Not now. Not with him.
“You can tell me,” he urged, softly this time.
Could she? Once again she was struck by how much she trusted Gareth. Was she a fool, or could he truly be the exception to her steadfast rule?
She took a deep breath. “Charles never struck me, if that’s what you mean. He was always at the track. He loved his horses, loved the excitement of the race. It was like…like a fever that overtook him and raged inside him.”
“He was an addict,” Gareth said.
The words came to her easier now. “I tried to keep him from the track, tried so hard to get him to stop, but I couldn’t.” Her voice choked.
“Neglect is a form of abuse, Jane.”
She looked at him in surprise. Did he think so? No one had ever taken her side, except for Olivia. They’d all thought her lacking as a wife. Why else would Charles prefer the track to her bed? It had been humiliating. On more than one occasion, he’d resisted her efforts at seduction only to squirrel himself in his study to analyze sheets and sheets of horse racing statistics.
She’d obviously failed to satisfy her husband in bed. She’d felt completely inadequate as a woman.
Gareth’s dark eyes were intent. “Listen to me. It wasn’t your fault. Gamblers are like opium addicts. They crave it, need it, and they can’t see the warning signs no matter how heavily they lose. They live for the thrill of the next hand of cards, or the next race. It is an illness. No amount of pleading, begging, or bargaining can stop it. No matter how much you love them or how hard you try.”
His words, even though softly delivered, spoke volumes. The flicker of emotion in his eyes was unmistakable.
Hurt. Betrayal.
“Are you a gambler?” she asked.
He hesitated so long she feared he wouldn’t answer.
“No,” he finally said. “But my father is.”
There was so much more to Gareth Ramsey than she’d initially believed. He’d suffered as well. She imagined him as a young boy craving his father’s attention, only to be disappointed time and time again when his parent chose the gaming hells over his young son. She’d heard rumors Gareth was estranged from the baron, and she’d thought they were over his choice of profession.
But she�
��d been wrong about him.
Again.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“Don’t be. I’ve fared well over the years.”
He was a successful barrister, a younger son who was no longer dependent on his father for every shilling. She admired him for achieving financial independence when so many gentlemen of the ton thought trade and work beneath them.
“You still haven’t explained your ridiculous need to find a lover, starting with your blasted list,” he said.
“You’re right in that I may not be the most knowledgeable when it comes to taking a lover. All my life I’ve done what’s been expected of me. I was a dutiful daughter of an earl and married my family’s choice. I was a dutiful wife. But now—as a widow—I’m finally free to make my own choices. Is there anything wrong in wanting to experience the passion and desire I’ve missed in my marriage?”
His eyes never left hers for an instant. “No,” he said gruffly.
“Then does my offer from last night completely disinterest you?” She tilted her head to the side and regarded him. “Or have you changed your mind about pursuing me?”
A strange, faintly eager look flashed in his eyes. “Hardly. You should know I came very close to directing my driver to my home, sweeping you into my arms, and ravishing you in my bed.”
Her mouth gaped at the images his words evoked. “You did?”
“I thought of little else all night.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Because you were foxed! I didn’t want you to wake in the morning and have regrets. Worse, I didn’t want you to despise me for it.”
She froze. He cared for her. He must. As for herself, she could never despise him. She’d come to admire him…to desire him.
Would Simon Marbury have taken such care? Never. He wanted her drunk and unable to defend herself. She shivered at how close she had come to just such a fate.
If not for Gareth’s intervention.
“I suppose I should thank you. Again.”
He grunted.
“But Gareth?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not inebriated now,” she pointed out.
“And?”
She scooted toward him on the settee and boldly touched his cheek. He was warm and strong beneath her fingertips, and the tantalizing scent of his shaving soap heightened her senses. “And nothing has changed. I still want what I was able to voice last night,” she whispered.
She was enthralled by the primal lust that glittered in his eyes.
“Think about what you’re offering, Jane.” He took her hand from his cheek and placed a hot kiss in the center of her palm. A tingling began low in her belly.
“I have,” she breathed.
He lowered her hand, his fingers entwining with hers. “I cannot believe I’m saying this, but you must be aware that there are consequences.”
He held himself rigidly, and she had the impression of a wild tiger stalking its prey, ready to pounce.
“I told you I’m barren. I was never able to have children during my marriage. A doctor confirmed it.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. There are other consequences. Emotional ones.”
Despite the butterflies in her stomach, she attempted a confident smile. “You needn’t fear, Gareth. I won’t demand more from you than what lovers share.”
His eyes raked boldly over her, and the heated tingling spread to the tips of her breasts.
“Then come to me tonight. I’ll send a carriage for you under cover of darkness,” he said.
A disturbing thought occurred to her. “Are you worried about being seen with me?”
“Society can go to the devil! It’s not my reputation I’m concerned about, but yours as a lady.”
“I see.”
“Knock on the servants’ quarters. I’ll be waiting.” He came close and fingered a loose tendril of hair on her cheek. “But know this. I want you very much. If your servants weren’t close by, I would lay you down on this settee, remove your pretty gown, and show you how much.”
Her knees felt weak and she was grateful she was sitting.
“But Jane—”
“Yes?”
“Be certain.”
…
Jane needed to speak with Olivia, but when she arrived at the Newbury’s home she was informed by the butler that Lady Olivia and her mother were at the milliners. Jane headed straight to Bond Street in search of her friend.
Olivia waved as Jane entered the shop. “Jane! Are you shopping for a new bonnet?”
Jane wove through the shop to where Olivia stood and grasped her friend’s hand. “I need to speak with you privately,” she said in a low voice.
Olivia’s brows rose to her hairline at the urgency in Jane’s voice. Her eyes darted to where her mother, Lady Newbury, was inspecting ribbons at a far off table. “Of course. Mother’s preoccupied at the moment. Let’s go in the back.”
Under pretense of comparing lace on bonnets, they disappeared around a tall shelf.
“I’ve arranged a rendezvous for tonight,” Jane whispered.
Olivia looked at her expectantly. “You’re meeting Mr. Marbury?”
“No, not Simon.”
“Then who?”
“Mr. Gareth Ramsey.”
Olivia dropped the bonnet in her hands. “Oh my.”
“Are you shocked?” Jane asked.
“Yes, but relieved as well. I never thought Mr. Marbury was meant for you. He is too conceited, and frankly, there’s something about him that’s just cold.”
Jane glanced from side to side to ensure shoppers had not wandered close, and then lowered her voice even further. “Your instincts were right. Simon planned to get me intoxicated in Vauxhall Gardens and for me to join both him and Lord Hartley in his home for their depravity.”
Olivia gasped. “You’re serious?”
Jane swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “Gareth intervened and escorted me safely home.”
“Thank goodness! Mr. Ramsey’s clearly taken with you.”
Jane recalled Gareth earlier that morning. She’d never forget the look of raw lust in his eyes when he’d admitted that he’d thought of her all evening. She experienced a swooping pull low in her belly.
“I’m to meet him under cover of darkness tonight,” Jane said.
Olivia clasped her hand. “How exciting! Are you nervous?”
She hadn’t much time for anxiety to set in. Last night had been a blur. This morning her head had ached, and before she could drink her morning cup of coffee, Gareth had arrived. But now, hours later, standing in the milliner’s shop, her stomach did flutter with anticipation and nerves.
“I suppose so,” Jane said. “I may have been intimate with Charles, but he had always been…how can I phrase it…quick about coupling.” Her face was surely red.
“Do you trust Mr. Ramsey?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation.
Olivia sucked in a breath. “I never thought you’d trust another man after Charles’s death.”
“Shocking, isn’t it?”
Olivia smiled and picked up a bonnet with yellow silk flowers and ribbon from a nearby shelf. “I’m glad. And you shouldn’t worry about your experience. You certainly have more knowledge than me. I’ve never been alone with Edward for more than an hour. I fear I’ll disappoint him with my ignorance on our wedding night.”
“Nonsense. You’re expected to be a virgin. I, on the other hand, am supposed to be a worldly widow seeking a lover.”
Olivia clenched the bonnet in her hands. Surely the ribbon would be wrinkled.
“I have a secret of my own,” Olivia whispered.
For the first time that morning, Jane noticed Olivia’s appearance. Faint, blue circles were under her eyes, and her normally immaculate topknot was slightly unruly. Guilt assailed Jane. She’d been so consumed with her own affairs she hadn’t thought of her best friend.
“What’s amiss, Olivi
a?”
Olivia glanced around a tall shelf to make certain her mother was still occupied comparing ribbons. “Edward’s having troubles with a gambling debt.”
Jane froze. “I didn’t know the duke gambled.”
Olivia shrugged a dainty shoulder, but Jane suspected her friend wasn’t as undisturbed as she wanted to portray. “He doesn’t, not anymore than what’s expected of a gentleman attending his clubs. But his brother, William, does.”
Jane knew William. Edward’s twin, who was second born, had a reputation of dissoluteness and recklessness.
“William doesn’t have the responsibility of the dukedom hanging around his neck, and he’s certainly not being hounded by the dowager to produce an heir,” Olivia said.
“I take it William is in trouble?” Jane said.
“He’s a spendthrift. His monthly allowance is quite generous, but even so, it’s gone by the middle of the month. According to Edward, William borrowed money from a moneylender and his loan is past due. William is begging Edward to pay off the loan.”
“Will he do it?”
Olivia shook her head and thrust the bonnet back on the shelf. Several yellow silk petals bent beyond repair. “Edward would never allow his brother to be harmed. He also wants to keep it secret from the dowager. But I can’t help but be concerned,” she said in a dull and troubled voice.
“Why?”
Two deep lines of worry appeared between Olivia’s eyes. “Edward frets that his assistance has allowed his brother to continue on this dangerous path, and I tend to agree with him. But he is more concerned than usual this time, and I fear something is amiss. Something he’s not telling me.”
“You must trust Edward’s judgment. He’s not a fool or a man who acts recklessly,” Jane pointed out.
Olivia blinked. “Yes, it’s true. Edward is always sensible and responsible.”
“Please do not worry for naught, Olivia. Your wedding is little over a month away. Let us focus on more pleasant matters today.”
Olivia managed a smile. “You’re right, of course. What could be more exciting than bonnets and illicit affairs?”
Chapter Thirteen
The hood of Jane’s cloak covered her fair hair and shadowed her face as she discretely left her home late that night. The doors of the carriage that waited displayed no fancy crest, but as she stepped inside the conveyance, she discovered it to be quite luxurious.
At the Spy's Pleasure Page 10
