A Lady Never Surrenders
Page 31
Last time he and Celia had entered the nursery, he’d briefly worried about her reaction to being in it so soon after they’d learned the truth about her parents’ deaths, but her infatuation with the new babies had seemed to banish any bad memories.
Today, however, he wondered if those memories had returned. She was oddly pensive. She said nothing as they gazed at Lady Prudence Sharpe, Stoneville’s plump golden-haired daughter, who looked like a cherub out of a painting. Even Jackson couldn’t help agreeing with his aunt that the babe was “adorable.”
Celia remained silent when they went to stare at Master Hugh Sharpe, Jarret’s son and heir, a black-headed, restless child who sucked his thumb in his sleep.
“That one is a little hellion in the making,” his aunt predicted. Mrs. Masters agreed.
Then Aunt Ada glanced at Mrs. Masters. “Perhaps we should return to the breakfast.”
“Absolutely,” Mrs. Masters said with a veiled look at Celia.
“We’ll be along soon,” Celia said, to his surprise.
His surprise grew more acute when the other two insisted on taking the nurse with them. “Alone at last,” he murmured, thinking Celia might want a private moment with him. Though the nursery was a strange place for it.
“Yes. I have something to tell you, Jackson.” Taking his hand, she laid it on her belly. “I’m fairly certain that you and I are going to have a child of our own soon.”
He stared at her, stunned speechless.
At his continued silence, an anxious look crossed her face. “I know it’s perhaps a bit sooner than we expected, but—”
“It’s wonderful,” he choked out. “Absolutely wonderful.” He smoothed his hand over her belly. “I can’t imagine anything better than having a child with you, my love. But are you sure?”
She relaxed. “As sure as anyone can be at this point. Your aunt and I think I may be nearly three months along, so…”
When she trailed off with a blush, he added up numbers in his head, then let out a laugh. “It probably happened that night in the cottage.”
“Or the night in my bedchamber.”
“Then it’s a good thing I came to my senses and gave you that ‘proper proposal’ you demanded. Or I’d be staring down the barrel of your percussion rifle just about now.”
“I doubt that. I would just have married the duke,” she teased.
He scowled. “Over my dead body.”
She laughed. “You know perfectly well you would have proposed long before I knew I was with child.”
“Ah, but would you have said yes? I thought you once told me that a lady never surrenders.”
“She doesn’t.” Eyes sparkling, she buried her fingers in his hair and drew his head down to hers. “Except where love is concerned. I’ve come to realize that in matters of love, a clever lady always surrenders.”
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Camilla Stuart’s cheeks heated as she gaped at Pierce Waverly, the Earl of Devonmont. How dare he refuse to remain here, visiting his own mother for Christmas, unless Camilla agree to spend her nights with him! What a despicable, wicked—
Then her brain caught up with her moral outrage. The earl wore a very calculating expression, as if he knew exactly what her reaction would be.
Oh, of course! He was making this up as he went along, the devilish creature. He wanted her to be so insulted by his proposition that she left him alone and stopped plaguing him about his estrangement from his mother.
That made far more sense than believing he actually meant it. She wasn’t the sort of woman whom fashionable rakehells tried to seduce. The very idea was preposterous.
She forced herself to look bewildered. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, my lord. How could I possibly entertain a worldly man like you?”
His sudden black frown strengthened her conviction that his supposed bargain was a bluff. “I am quite certain that you take my meaning. After dinner is over every night and my mother has retired, you and I will have our own little party. Here. In my bedchamber, where you can slip in and out without being noticed. If I must spend my dinners with her, then you must spend your nights with me.”
“Entertaining you,” she said primly, buying time to figure out what answer would best gain her what she wanted. “Yes, I understand that part. I’m just not sure what kind of entertainment you want.”
He gritted his teeth. “Oh, for the love of God, you know precisely what kind of entertainment a ‘worldly man’ like me enjoys.”
Now that she had caught on to his game, it was all she could do not to laugh at him. He was so transparent. What was wrong with all those women in London that they didn’t see right through him?
“On the contrary, my lord,” she said blithely. “I don’t know you well enough to know what you enjoy. Perhaps you would prefer that I sing for you, or dance, or read you a good play. I understand there is quite an extensive library at Montcliff. Your mother says you bought most of the books for it yourself. I’m sure there is some volume of—”
“I am not talking about you reading to me!” he practically shouted.
When she merely gazed at him with a feigned expression of innocence, he changed his demeanor. His brown eyes turned sultry, and a sensual smile crossed his lips. “I am speaking of the kind of entertainment most widows prefer.”
My, my, no wonder London ladies were rumored to regularly jump into his bed. When he looked that way at a woman and spoke in that decidedly seductive voice, the average female probably melted into a puddle at his feet.
So it was a good thing that she was not an average female. Before she had become paid companion to his mother, she’d had the occasional lascivious offer from scoundrels who liked to prey on unprotected females. Fortunately, she’d always known how to handle them.
This was a trickier situation, however. If she wasn’t an average female, he was definitely not an average scoundrel, either.
She pretended to muse for a moment. “Entertainment that widows prefer … Works of charity? Taking care of their families? No, those aren’t actually entertaining, though they do pass the time.” She cocked her head. “I confess, my lord, that you have me at a complete loss.”
Uh oh, that was probably doing it up too brown, for understanding suddenly shone in his face. “You’re deliberately provoking me. Well then, I’ll spell out what you’re pretending not to understand. You would spend those evenings in my bed. Is that clear enough?”
He said it in such a peeved manner that she couldn’t help but laugh. “Clear indeed, though preposterous.”
His gaze narrowed on her. “Preposterous, how?”
Time to let him know that she had caught on to his game. “I’m aware of your reputation, sir. I’m not the sort of woman you like to take to bed.”
Something glinted in his eyes that looked remarkably like admiration. “I thought you said you didn’t know me all that well,” he drawled.
“I know what kind of women you are most often seen with. And by all accounts, they are tall, blowsy blondes with porcelain skin and clever hands.”
He looked startled. “You do know my reputation.”
She shrugged. “I read the papers. And your mother likes to hear all the stories of you, even the salacious ones.”
Mention of his mother made his gaze harden. “Then you should know that men like me aren’t usually discriminating in their choice of female entertainment.”
“Oh, but no matter how bored you might be in the country, I’m sure you’re discriminating enough not to wish to bed a short, mousy, freckled servant, when you can have any beautiful blond actress or opera singer instead,” she said coolly.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he dragged his gaze down her, then circled her in a s
low, careful assessment that made her nervous. A pity that he wasn’t a mere perfumed dandy; she could have handled one of those easily enough. But this sharp-witted rakehell with hidden secrets was unpredictable.
Camilla had never liked the unpredictable.
“And what if I were to say that I really am that indiscriminate? Would you then share my bed in exchange for my spending Christmas here with my mother?”
She swallowed. Why did he persist in bluffing when he knew she had caught on to him?
Oh, what did it matter? He would never truly want her in his bed, and they both knew it. Might as well call his bluff. “Why not? You are rumored to be quite good at that sort of thing.” She couldn’t keep the edge from her voice. “Besides, the likelihood of my ever again having the chance to be seduced by such a notorious fellow as yourself is slim.”
He blinked at her frank statement, then flashed her a rueful smile. “Good God, Mrs. Stuart, remind me never to play cards with you. I daresay you’re quite a terror at the gaming tables.”
She bit back a smile of her own. “I confess I’ve won a hand or two at whist in my life.”
“More than a hand or two, I’d wager.” He let out a long breath. “All right then, let me propose a bargain that we both could actually adhere to.” He searched her face. “I’ll do as you wish—I’ll go to dinner with you and Mother every evening until Christmas. Afterward, you will come here to join me in one of your more innocuous entertainments for the evening.” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s the least you can do, if you mean to force me into moldering in the country for two weeks.”
She let out a breath. She’d won! “I am happy to attempt to entertain you, my lord, if you will just give your mother some time with you. That’s all I ask.”
“I’m not finished.” He gazed steadily at her. “In exchange for my allowing this farce to continue until Christmas, you must agree never again to try to force my hand in the matter of my mother.”
When she drew a breath as if to speak, he added, more firmly, “Two weeks of watching me and Mother together should demonstrate to you why you have no business involving yourself in our relationship. But even if it doesn’t, Christmas Day must mark the end of your meddling—or I will dismiss you without a qualm. Am I understood?”
“Yes, my lord,” she said, suitably chastened. She had overstepped her bounds in sending that misleading letter to him.
He frowned. “In this room, do not call me ‘my lord.’ It reminds me too much of…” He paused. “Just call me Devonmont. That will do.”
“Very well, my … Devonmont.”
A heavy sigh escaped him. “I must be out of my mind to be letting you off so easily, after what you did.”
“Easily?” she couldn’t resist quipping. “Have you forgotten that I will have to entertain you every evening?”
His lips quirked as if he fought a smile. “Ah, yes, that will be such a trial for you. And I expect very rousing entertainment. At the very least, you must show me your … reputed ability at whist, so I can trounce you.” He sobered. “If I have to endure this house every night, then you, my dear, will join me in my suffering.”
The bitter remark gave her pause. Hadn’t Lady Devonmont said that this was the original manor house on the estate? The one where he’d grown up?
As if realizing he’d revealed more than he’d meant to, he broke into a grin. “It won’t be so very difficult, I promise. I can be charming when I want to be, you know.”
“No doubt,” she said dryly.
He stared at her a long moment, his grin fading. “Well then, we’re agreed. I’ll see you here this evening after Mother has retired.”
And after she had put her young son, Jasper, to bed, though she couldn’t say that.
Still, she hesitated, wanting to confirm one thing. Perhaps she shouldn’t press the matter, but in for a penny, in for a pound. “And you will come down to dinner, sir? This very evening?”
His face turned rigid. “That’s the agreement, isn’t it?”
She let out a breath. “I was just making sure.”
“Whatever else you may think of me,” he said sharply, “I do honor my promises.”
“Of course, my lo— Devonmont.”
She turned for the door, relief swamping her. She had braved the lion’s den and survived. She’d even won. Spending evenings with his lordship would be no sacrifice at all compared to that.
“One more thing, Mrs. Stuart,” he said as she reached the door.
She paused to look back at him.
“You were right when you said that I am discriminating in my choice of bed partners. But you are not remotely mousy.” His gaze scoured her, this time with decided heat that she could tell wasn’t the least bit feigned.
It left her torn between pleasure and alarmed by the possibility that he might consider her worthy of seducing. The last thing she needed in her life right now was a lover; not with Jasper to take care of.
Only when he had her thoroughly agitated, and not just from concern over her virtue, did he lower his voice to a husky drawl. “Fortunately for you, I’m not in the habit of abusing the trust of those in my employ. So as long as you want me to play the respectable gentleman, I will do so.”
He fixed her with a smoldering look. “But let me warn you. Give me an inch, and I will take two miles. If you offer more, I will be only too happy to take you into my bed.”
“Then I shall have to be careful not to offer more, shan’t I?” And with that, she slipped from the room.
But as she made her way down the hall, with her knees shaking and her hands clammy, she knew that this bargain might not be quite so easy to keep. Because she wasn’t as averse to the idea of being in the earl’s bed as she should be.
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Table of Contents
Acknowledgment
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Epilogue
Teaser