Samantha Kane

by Tempting a Devil

  “You’re what?” Amazement made her blurt out the question.

  He raised his eyebrows and kept dressing. “I am embarking on a career in the law. I’m studying to become a barrister, starting today.”

  “Does this have anything to do with this marriage business?” she asked suspiciously.

  “If you mean am I doing it because I wish to marry you, then yes,” he told her. Before she could argue the wisdom of that, he cut her off, adding, “But I am not doing it so that you will marry me. I’m doing it because when you marry me, I wish to be my own man, with a career and a promising future and interesting things to talk about. I want to be someone that deserves you.”

  “Oh, Roger,” she said miserably. “You deserve me now. I don’t deserve you.”

  He paused while getting dressed. “If I deserve you and yet you don’t deserve me, somehow, I think the two cancel each other out.”

  “I’ve made you angry.”

  He shook his head. “No, not really.” He came over to the bed and sat beside her, taking her hands in his. “I expected a refusal, if not because of your past then because of my boorish behavior the other day.” He slid down to the floor on one knee. “And I didn’t really do it properly, did I?” He kept ahold of her hands. “Harry, will you marry me?”

  She looked at him helplessly, ready to cry, biting her lip. Then she shook her head, just a little bit.

  He stood up and dusted off the knees of his trousers. “All right then. One down, a few hundred to go. I’m thinking that it will take roughly three years to convince you. By then I shall have been admitted to the Bar, and I’m told I shall be able to talk the angels out of heaven.”

  “Oh, Roger.” She wished she could think of something else to say.

  “Kiss me goodbye,” he whispered, pulling her to her feet. “And I shall see you this evening.”

  No words were necessary for that, at least.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “I need your advice, Sir Hilary,” Lady Mercer said as she sat delicately in one of the rather ornate chairs in his library. He’d never considered them ornate before, but when she perched there looking ethereal in a delicate confection of pale pink and Brussels lace, the contrast between her obvious feminine charms and the large, dark walnut, red-upholstered chair was startling. He must redecorate. The room had become garish.

  He sat down beside her. “Of course, my lady. Please tell me how I can help.” He had some idea. Roger had not come home last night but stopped by this morning only long enough to change his clothes before rushing off to Gray’s Inn. It had certainly taken long enough to get that one onto a productive path. In the end, Hil couldn’t even take the credit. The reason for his newfound raison d’être sat next to him right now, of course.

  “It is a rather … delicate situation,” she began hesitantly.

  Well, then, not what he’d expected. He’d assumed it concerned Roger, but it must be Faircloth. “You needn’t reveal anything that would upset you, dear lady,” he assured her, having gotten all the particulars from Faircloth himself on his visit two days ago. The man had been sporting a black eye and a virulent hatred of Roger and Lady Mercer, and he’d been more than glad to spew his hatred for anyone who would listen. It had taken some rather colorful threats, subtle of course, on Hil’s part to get the man to shut his mouth.

  “Mr. Templeton has asked me to marry him.”

  Hil’s game was clearly off today. Not only did he not consider that a delicate situation, but he didn’t understand why she needed his advice on the matter. Of course they should get married. Only a simpleton would not see the inevitability of that. “I see,” was all he said.

  “I’m afraid that my last marriage was not of a nature to …” She paused, obviously searching for the right words. “To encourage me to enter again into the state of matrimony.”

  Yes, Hil had suspected as much. It would be hard for a young girl to marry a man as old as Mercer had been. The intimacies of marriage would have been a hardship. Mercer had probably treated her more as a daughter than a wife, and the ramifications of that on her psyche when he climbed into bed and proceeded to shag her were unsavory, to say the least. “I’m sorry,” he said sympathetically.

  She nodded. “So, you see, it has nothing to do with Roger or the way I feel about him,” she said earnestly. “I do believe I’m quite in love with him, and have been since we were children.”

  “Yes, I do believe you are,” he agreed, hoping to steer her in the right direction.

  “But, well, marriage changes things,” she said, looking at him as if she wanted him to agree. So he did.

  “Yes, it does.”

  She slumped back in her seat, defeated. “You are not helping.”

  “I’m not quite sure what you require of me, Lady Mercer,” Hil said, tiptoeing through the trenches of the conversation. “Exactly how might I advise you?”

  “I want to know what to do. My head says marriage to Roger is an excellent idea. We are compatible in every way. As a lover, he is superb. But my stomach wants to disgorge at the very idea of marriage. To anyone.”

  “Don’t you have any lady friends to discuss this with?” Hil asked, not caring for the role of confidante in this particular instance.

  She shook her head. “No. They are all just looking for gossip. I did like Lady Anne Moore, but gossip, of course, has it that she has been shipped off to the country because of an unfortunate liaison with an artist.”

  Yes, Hil had heard that very same gossip, and he knew it to be true. The artist in question was actually quite good, and their liaison had little to do with love, but Throckton had not taken kindly to the knowledge that his unmarried sister was posing nude for the gentleman, albeit for the sake of art. Hil himself had helped spread the rumor that it was a love affair gone wrong, rather than reveal that she was the nude of the artist’s new portrait series.

  “Lady Mercer,” he began, not sure where he was going. He really just wanted to tell her to marry Roger and put them all out of their misery. “It seems to me that you are comparing apples and oranges.”

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked with a confused look.

  “You are comparing Mercer and Templeton, and finding them the same, which they are not.”

  “I am not!” she said defensively. “That’s what Roger said, too. But I’m not. I know he’s not Mercer. I know he’s Roger,” she said, pointing to her temple, Hil assumed to indicate that she knew it in her head, which was really quite superfluous as he hadn’t imagined she knew it in her toe. Women were rather dramatic.

  “Then you do not wish to marry Roger,” he concluded. “It has been known to happen that women do not wish to marry the men who ask them. It has indeed happened to Roger before.” He was interested to see how she reacted to that information.

  “What?” she asked, sitting forward, alert as a hunter, her sharp gaze pinning Hil to his chair.

  “Oh, yes,” Hil said. “Didn’t he tell you about the woman he met while on the Continent a few years back? No?” Of course he hadn’t, the dolt. “Well it would seem that he romanced and proposed to a young woman who he believed felt the same way about him. It turned out, however, that she was already engaged to a wealthy older gentleman, whom her family wished her to marry instead. She chose the older gentleman and his wealth.”

  “Oh my God,” she said with horror. “That’s why he was so upset about why I married Mercer and …” She broke off immediately, biting her lip. “He thought I was her—Lady Mercenary.” She threw her head back with a sigh of frustration. “Why did he not tell me?” She turned to look at Hil again. “The circumstances of my marriage and this other woman’s couldn’t have been more different. It sounds as if she had a choice, while I had none. Surely Roger understands that.”

  “I assume he does since he has asked you to marry him,” Hil speculated.

  “He asked me to marry him despite the fact that I did what I did for the money,” she said quietly, almost to herself.
“I even told him that, and he still asked me.”

  “Yes, well, I believe that Roger is in love with you,” Hil observed. “That does make a man act irrationally.”

  “Thank you,” she said with dry sarcasm. “Roger is studying the law. Did you know that?”

  Hil nodded. “I encouraged him to do so. He has been floundering.”

  “It makes me feel as if he’s trying to force me to agree to marry him,” she said.

  “That is irrational,” Hil argued. “How would his law studies force you to marry him?”

  “He’s changing his entire life for me,” she said, flinging her hand out in a dangerous effort to underscore her words. Hil barely managed to duck. No wonder Roger always looked like hell these days.

  “Hardly. As I said, he’s been floundering. His dissatisfaction with his current lifestyle began before your reappearance in his life. You have simply motivated him to do something about it. This is not a bad thing, Lady Mercer. It is quite an honor to be the impetus behind a man’s regeneration.”

  “But I feel responsible for him now,” she said. “As if, if I don’t marry him, his efforts will have been in vain.”

  “Well, that’s rather self-aggrandizing, don’t you think?” he asked, and she had the grace to blush. “I daresay that there are a great many people who will benefit from Templeton’s new career as a barrister. I expect he will be very good at it. I also expect he will enjoy it, whether he is married to you or not.”

  She stared at her hands for a moment, smoothing the lace of her gloves. “He said that no one needs marriage. Do you agree?” she asked, without looking up.

  Ah, a philosophical turn to the conversation. Much better. “Yes and no.”

  “You can’t have it both ways,” she told him crossly.

  “Of course I can.” He leaned back and crossed his legs as he steepled his fingers beneath his chin, regarding her. “There are no rules in philosophy. You see, Lady Mercer, there are those who require marriage for various reasons, be that health, welfare, monetary gain, or companionship. Those individuals thrive under the institution of marriage, and many would wither without it. I would argue they need marriage. And there are those who thrive without it. They do not need it, even for companionship. For those individuals marriage is a conscious choice, one made for other reasons, such as love.”

  “Such as love,” she repeated. “So love cannot exist long outside marriage?”

  “On the contrary, I have seen love thrive and grow and remain strong for decades without marriage, and I have seen love die within a year of marriage. Love, like philosophy, has no rules.”

  “Talking to you has not helped me one bit,” she said, though there was no sting in her words.

  “I hear that often,” he said sympathetically. “But did you truly think that I would make up your mind for you today?” He sat forward, his demeanor serious. “You have worked very hard to be independent, Lady Mercer, to maintain control of your destiny. You may have come for advice, but I’d wager you had no intention, conscious or otherwise, to abdicate responsibility for this decision to me.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “I would not. I will not give anyone the right to make the decision for me.”

  “And that, Lady Mercer, is why you refused to marry Templeton.” He thought they’d never get to the proper conclusion.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that he asked you, thereby taking control of the situation. You are reacting, not acting. This, I believe, is why you are hesitant. Before you can rationally confront the question, you must realize that asking the question does not give Roger control over you or your decision. Rather, it is simply opening the issue for discussion. You still have all the power in this situation. Roger can do nothing but wait on your pleasure, at this point.”

  “Perhaps I am not ready to discuss the issue at all,” she said dejectedly.

  “Then do not.” Hil didn’t understand her mood. “Templeton isn’t going anywhere. I have known him a very long time, Lady Mercer,” he offered. “I have never seen him care for a woman the way he cares for you. Not even the woman—I don’t even know her name—that he asked to marry him before. I believe his marriage proposal to her had more to do with wanting to change his life than a great love. But you are different. Remember that. You may take as long as you like to make your decision, and he will still be waiting.”

  “Eventually he will tire of waiting,” she told him, standing. “And then the issue will be forced.”

  “That is to be dealt with if and when it happens,” Hil said, his patience thin. “If you try to make decisions based on what may or may not happen in the future, you will drive yourself mad.”

  “I don’t want to lose him,” she whispered. “I can’t imagine my life without him.”

  Hil took pity on her. “Then tell him that, and I am quite sure he will wait as long as it takes.”

  As he walked her to the door, he remembered last night’s errand. “You didn’t ask what happened with the man we were following last night.”

  “I completely forgot!” she exclaimed, her startled gaze flying to his. “Can you believe it? Well, what happened?”

  “He denied any knowledge of it, of course, and claimed to have no idea who Faircloth was. We offered him money to reveal what he knows, to no avail. Wiley is watching him today.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “I had such hopes that he would be the key to fending off Faircloth.”

  “You know,” Hil said, “marriage to Templeton would effectively end any hold Faircloth holds over you.”

  “I know,” she said, stepping forward as his butler opened the door for her. “But marrying him for the wrong reasons would be worse than not marrying him at all.”

  * * *

  Harry woke when Roger slipped into bed beside her. He’d tried to be quiet so as to let her sleep. He hadn’t let her get much last night.

  “Mmm,” she said. “How did you get here?”

  “I pilfered your key last night,” he whispered. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  She snuggled her warm bottom back against him and he wrapped his arms around her, lying down, content to hold her. “Don’t mind,” she sighed.

  “How was your day?” he asked, rubbing his cheek in her hair.

  “Nice,” she said. “I spent most of it with Mercy in the park. How was your day?”

  “Long and exhausting,” he said truthfully. “I spent the day trying to charm a thousand people, and only succeeding with half that number.”

  “Oh, dear,” she said. She rolled over in his arms so they were facing each other and tucked her hands under her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  He grinned. “Don’t be. I only had to charm half to be accepted.” He kissed her nose. “And it was exhilarating.”

  She laughed. “Was it? Why?”

  “I was scrutinized and found wanting.”

  She gave him a puzzled look.

  “I was judged on merits other than charm and good looks. It was an experience I haven’t had since school, and I quite liked it.”

  “You are very odd,” she said affectionately. “I like that about you.”

  He pulled her close and nuzzled her neck. “Are we going to start listing things we like again? That was fun.”

  She sighed, but it was a troubled sound. “What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling back so he could see her face better.

  “I had to send Charlotte back home to Kent today,” she said sadly.

  “Why? Was it because of Wiley?”

  “No, because she’s too scared to be here anymore. She was teaching Wiley to read. Did you know that?”

  “Yes,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “He told me.”

  “She said he actually knows more than he lets on. He’s picked up quite a bit on his own. It’s his vocabulary and spelling that are terrible, not his reading.”

  That was news to Roger, though it shouldn’t have been. Of course Wiley would have picked up reading, s
pending half of every day in Hil’s library. “I’ll speak to Hil about a tutor.” He should have done so days ago.

  Harry nodded. “Yes, I think it would be best.” She grinned. “He can improve his vocabulary the same way I did. He can read Dr. Johnson’s Dictionary.”

  Roger gave a startled laugh. “You’ve read that?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” she said, “from A to Z. It’s amazing what one will do when seeking refuge.”

  He hugged her tight. “I’m sorry.” He wondered how many times he was going to say that in the next fifty years. A lot, probably, and he wouldn’t begrudge her one.

  She wrapped her arms around him. “Don’t be. I have a rather extensive vocabulary, which I’m told is required if one is to be the companion of a barrister.”

  He caught his breath. “Is that a yes?”

  “I went to see Sir Hilary today. He told me the man from last night denied any involvement in the attempts on Mercy, so we cannot tie him to Faircloth.” She ran her hand through the hair on the back of his head, and he shivered. “Sir Hilary says that if I marry you, my problems with Faircloth will be over.”

  It wasn’t the answer he wanted. “If that is reason enough to marry me,” he said carefully, “then I accept it. We can work on the other reasons after the deed is done.”

  She shoved his shoulder roughly. “That is not a good enough reason to marry,” she said angrily. “I’ve used you enough. If I decide to marry you at some future date, possibly, then it will not be because I wish to use you to solve my problems.”

  “Use me,” he said suggestively. “I like the sound of that.” He was giddy with relief. She’d said possibly. It may take only two years to get a yes at this rate.

  “Did you hear a word I said?” she grumbled, as he rolled her over and kissed his way down her jaw to her neck.

  “Mmm,” he said against her neck, licking that delicious salty sweet flavor from her skin. “Of course, dear.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Harry came hurrying down the stairs at the sound of a commotion in the hallway. It was late, she’d been expecting Roger, but he’d been much later last night getting home. Mercy had finally fallen asleep an hour or so ago. Harry was exhausted from watching him all day. Two-year-old boys were apparently inexhaustible. She hadn’t realized how much she’d come to rely on Charlotte.