by Claudia Dain
Dutton, blast him, had a point, and he was quite right, it was a strange point.
“I don’t trust you, Dutton,” Ashdon said, studying the man across from him. Dutton was ruthless, that much was evident, but was he honorable? More, was he trustworthy?
“You think me ruthless,” Lord Dutton said, his voice bland, almost bored. “I am. But I am not savage. Honor binds me as it does you. But in this battle between men and women, should not the men fight on the same side? I will not cross you. I have nothing to gain by it.”
Possibly true, but a man’s honor turned on the most fragile of points. Just look at Westlin for proof of that. His honor had been bruised by a courtesan’s rejection, and twenty years later Ashdon was required to put honor to rights. Damned business, protecting one’s honor.
“You know Lady Caroline as well as I,” Ashdon said. “There is nothing you can do to aid me in . . . acquiring her.”
“Acquisitions require blunt,” Dutton said softly. “Do you have the means that Lady Caroline demands?”
That damned pearl necklace. Hell, no, he didn’t have the means. Ashdon stared at Dutton, not answering. Dutton spoke for him.
“What does she want?”
Ashdon swallowed and stared into his drink. He had nothing to lose and perhaps a pearl necklace to gain. He had to fulfill the terms of his father’s honor. He had to meet Caroline’s price if he wanted to see her again. He most certainly did want to see her again. As to Mrs. Warren, her reputation was safe, or as safe as it could be while living in Lady Dalby’s house. As to that, had not Mrs. Warren made her own bed? He was not responsible to her, or for her. All his duty was to Westlin. And to taking Caro in his arms and under his mouth again. That was one duty he would fulfill gladly.
“A pearl necklace,” Ashdon said, letting the die be cast. He would not rise or fall on Dutton’s efforts, but a little help couldn’t hurt.
Dutton nodded and took a deep breath. “She’d know a fake, certainly. With Sophia to guide her, they must be genuine.”
It was with some pride that Ashdon realized he’d never even considered foisting fake pearls upon Caroline’s delicate and deceitful throat. Was this not all of honor, after all?
“Certainly,” Ashdon replied crisply.
“I want to help you, Ashdon, but I’m deuced if I can think where we can lay our hands upon a strand of pearls.”
Ashdon knew the feeling. Pearls did not miraculously appear. His mother had had a lovely strand, but he was fairly certain Westlin had sold them years ago. Not only that, but from the look in Caro’s dark eyes, he’d been certain she had a rather long strand of pearls in mind. Not that what she had in mind made a whit of difference to him; his only thought was to present her with the pearls, kiss every inch of her naked body, and leave her flat, her reputation in tatters around her ankles. Honor would have been served . . . and she’d be richer a strand of pearls.
Honor was a damned nuisance.
“You know,” Dutton said slowly, staring at the candle on the table, his blue eyes illuminated like some devil dancing at Hell’s gate, “I think I know how I can arrange for you to present Caro—”
“Her name is Lady Caroline, Dutton,” Ashdon interrupted irritably. She was due the honor of her title, after all, no matter how her mother had acquired it. Damned insolence on Dutton’s part and completely like him.
“Of course,” Dutton said with a half grin, “but as I was saying, I think I know how we can find you a string of pearls for Lady Caroline’s pretty neck.”
Dutton paused, as if expecting an argument. Ashdon held his peace. Caro’s neck was, in all truth, very pretty.
“I know someone who has a rather nice pearl necklace. If I can get the necklace for you to give to Lady Caroline, then I shall require from you a bit more than help in softening Mrs. Warren to my suit.”
“I’m not going to abduct her for you,” Ashdon said, “if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Ashdon,” Dutton said. “I’m not as bad as all that. But it will be something more than a few kind words about me whispered into her pretty little ear.”
“What, exactly?”
“I’m not exactly certain yet, but I am certain that you have need of a pearl necklace,” Dutton said. “Are we agreed?”
He was making a deal with the devil, he was certain of that, but when honor and desire clashed within a man, what else was there but to make bargains with whomever would serve? Ashdon was wagering on his ability to get what he wanted while giving everyone else, his father included, what he wanted. All evidence to the contrary, Ashdon was a far better gambler than anyone gave him credit for.
“Agreed,” he said, downing the rest of his whiskey in a swallow.
“YOU agreed to do as I said,” Sophia said to Caroline.
“I know I did, but we both know Lord Ashdon can’t afford a single pearl, let alone a string of them. I shall never see him again,” Caroline said. “It’s simple logic, Mother. We have set a price and he cannot pay it.”
“You sell him short, I think,” Sophia said from her chair in the yellow salon.
“I’m simply being realistic.”
“Ah, yes, your famous realism. It was that realism, that logic, that landed you here, wasn’t it?”
There was nothing polite to say to that, so Caro said nothing. Sophia didn’t seem to notice.
“If you had simply taken the husband I had bought for you, all of this could have been avoided.”
“If you’ll excuse me,” Anne said, rising to her feet.
“No, Anne, stay,” Sophia said, waving her back to her chair. “You don’t need the level of instruction that Caro does—”
“Well, thank you, Mother,” Caro said on a huff of indignation.
“But you could both do with a bit of sharpening,” Sophia finished.
“I don’t want to become sharp,” Caro said. “It does not sound at all appealing.”
“When dealing with men, it’s best to be sharp,” Sophia said. “And the fact that you have yet to realize that is precisely what I’m talking about. Now, both of you sit down and listen to me.”
They sat, but Caro wasn’t going to promise that she was going to listen.
Sophia held out her arm in an elegant arc and said, “You have noticed my sapphire ring before, haven’t you?”
It was a difficult item not to notice as it was roughly the size of a pigeon’s egg.
“Of course,” Caro said.
“And just where do you think I got it?” Sophia asked.
“A gift from Father, I assumed.”
“You assumed incorrectly,” Sophia said. “I asked for it. To be precise, I made certain that the third Duke of Wilton understood that I would very much like a very large sapphire. The duke presented both himself and this ring within the week. I was given to understand that he sold his shares in a shipping company to provide me with this ring. I have never forgotten it or him, as was the point of the entire exercise, at least from his point of view.”
“Mother! That’s perfectly horrible!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Caro,” Sophia said. “How else are you ever to get what you want unless you are willing to ask for it?”
“And,” Anne said slowly, a light of understanding shining in her greenish eyes, “men accept the value you place upon yourself. It all starts with what you expect, doesn’t it, Lady Dalby?”
“Precisely,” Sophia said, smiling regally.
“But, Mother, I don’t want to be a courtesan. I don’t like this bargaining.”
“I don’t want you to be a courtesan either, darling, I never did, but I have come to believe that it would do you good to think like one.”
“But to bargain as one?” Caro said. “It’s horrible.”
“Think of it as negotiating,” Sophia said. “All interactions are negotiations in one form or another. You are simply negotiating for what you want. At this moment, you want Lord Ashdon.”
“But shouldn
’t I already have Lord Ashdon? ”
“Of course, but do you have him in the way that you want him?” Sophia said. “That makes all the difference, doesn’t it?”
“It certainly does,” Anne said firmly. “My mother was not as discerning nor as discriminating as yours, Caro. There is a difference, and the difference is felt completely by the woman.”
“But what about the Duke of Wilton?” Caro said. “He sold his shares to buy jewelry for a woman. One can’t help but feel sorry for him.” It was fairly obvious to everyone in the room that she was not thinking of his grace, but no one was unkind enough to point out the obvious and embarrassing truth that she was feeling sorry for Ashdon.
“Caro, darling, if a man wants you, he’s willing to do anything to have you. More than willing, he’s eager to prove himself. Set him a task, an impossible task. When he meets it, he will love you for it because, in you, he has achieved more than he thought he could.”
Silence blanketed the room in response to Sophia’s words. Could it be so? If true, then Ashdon would want her more for having to struggle to attain her. He certainly had not wanted her when he had been bought for her. But to have to buy her for her to be valuable to him? That could not be right. That turned everything Caro knew of the world on its elbows.
“Lady Sophia?” Anne said, her greenish eyes gleaming. “I would like to change my mind about Lord Staverton, if it is not too late. If he is still interested, I would like very much to be his wife.”
Caro turned in dumb amazement to look at Anne. What she saw on her face was pure resolve and something else entirely, something that looked almost like grim amusement.
“A very sharp decision,” Sophia said with a nod and a wink. “I think your timing is perfect, Anne. Just perfect.”
“Thank you, Lady Sophia,” Anne said softly. “I only hope I can make him happy.”
“Darling, he will be overjoyed. Any man would be to have you.”
“Are you certain, Anne?” Caro asked.
Anne couldn’t possibly want to marry Lord Staverton because she actually wanted him; it must be because Caro was getting married, she hoped, to Lord Ashdon. All this talk of marriage and how to manage men must have pushed her into a hasty decision. After all, Lord Staverton, however nice, was not a man to excite a woman’s interest. That Caro was again thinking of Lord Ashdon when she was supposed to be thinking of Lord Staverton she ruthlessly ignored.
“Very certain, Caro,” Anne said with a serene smile. “I cannot think of one reason why I should not welcome his suit, and I can think of many reasons why I would be a fool to reject him. It’s not possible to be more certain than that.”
“I should say not,” Sophia said, leaning back against the silk embrace of the sofa.
“Mother,” Caro said, “I think you have had very much to do with this decision of Anne’s and I don’t think you are entirely free of bias. Lord Staverton is one of your oldest acquaintances, is he not? And you want him to have a wife, do you not? And Anne, because of being a companion to me, is not meeting the sort of men—”
“I am meeting exactly the sort of men who interest me,” Anne said. “And being your companion is exactly why I am meeting them.”
“Precisely,” Sophia said. “Caro, you really must learn to look about you and see things for what they are. And speaking of meeting men, you two must leave this instant if Lord Ashdon is to have any hope of waylaying you.”
“Pardon me?” Caro said, her mind still reeling with the combined assault of her mother and Anne.
Good, gentle Anne seemed to have grown a decidedly ruthless streak, doubtless as a result of spending time with Sophia and hearing her rather startling views about men. Caro was certain that her mother knew more than she did about practically everything and was equally certain that her mother didn’t know what she was talking about.
It made for a rather exhausting day.
“Oh, Caro,” Sophia said on an impatient sigh, “do try and keep up, will you? You have told Lord Ashdon, rightly, that he cannot see you until he produces a fine string of pearls. It will take him some time to find pearls. Most gentlemen, unless they have very generous mothers, cannot lay to hand fine jewelry of any sort. In short, Lord Ashdon is either going to be very busy trying to get his hands on a pearl necklace worthy of you, or he is rethinking the whole proposal. You, my darling, are going to remind him why finding pearls is necessary to his very life.”
“To his very life? That’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it?” Caro said.
“It is, isn’t it?” Sophia said, grinning. “Now, go and be dramatic, darling. Let Lord Ashdon find you. Encourage him in his hunger for you, a hunger which can only be fed by pearls.”
“Come along, Caro,” Anne said, rising to her feet. “Your mother is quite right. It is entirely the right move to remind Lord Ashdon of what he is missing.”
Caro stood, but she had the distinct feeling that this time it was Anne who, though she was talking about Lord Ashdon, was thinking of someone else entirely.
She really did need to learn how to keep up. Things, and people, were moving furiously.
Fourteen
IT was exactly the wrong time of day for strolling about Hyde Park, but that is what Caro and Anne, with two footmen in attendance shadowing their steps, found themselves doing. They looked quite fine doing it. They were dressed beautifully and Caro’s bonnet was particularly appealing, but they had no real destination and so their steps, as prettily as they were taken, faltered.
“I had no idea it was so difficult to walk when one has no destination in mind,” Caro said softly to Anne. “I feel a bit like a bird on a string.”
“We should have gone to Creed’s for a bit of fragrance.”
“Do you really think that Lord Ashdon is going to be loitering around a fragrance shop when he has pearls to buy?” Caro countered.
“Then we should go to a jeweler’s.”
“Too obvious,” Caro whispered. “I don’t think it works when the man knows you’re checking up on him.”
“I think you’re right,” Anne said softly. “Are you having fun?”
“Delicious fun,” Caro whispered back, grinning like a girl. And it was fun, hunting the town for the man she had set her eye upon. Her mother might be a bit of a lunatic, but she certainly knew how to have a good time and how to instruct others to do the same. It was a lovely quality to have in a mother.
And then, just ahead, she could see the distinctive form of Lord Ashdon coming toward her driving a splendid gig, which he obviously could ill afford, the sun at his back and his brown curls lit to dark gold.
“There he is!” Caro whispered, linking her arm through Anne’s as casually as possible. “Do you think he sees me . . . um, us?”
Anne laughed softly and said, “By the look on his face, I’m quite certain he does. ’Tis no wonder that man is an abysmal gambler, he wears every thought on his face.”
“Ssshh!” Caro commanded as she checked her posture and lifted her bust to its best advantage.
“Nicely done, Caro,” Anne whispered just before Lord Ashdon stopped his gig, descended, and made his bow.
“Lady Caroline, Mrs. Warren,” Ashdon said, sending a tiny thrill into the pit of Caro’s stomach at the mere sound of her name on his voice. “You are not where I expected you.”
“Lord Ashdon,” they said in unison, and then Caro said, “You had expectations of me, Lord Ashdon? I had no idea.”
Lord Ashdon stared at her, his expression solemn, his blue eyes shuttered. “You are wearing my pearls, Lady Caroline,” he said simply, his voice a tune of longing.
“I am,” she said softly in return, all thoughts of teasing him disappearing in the intensity of his gaze.
“They become you,” he said.
“You are pleased. I am glad,” she said.
Simple talk, nothing of wit or poetry, yet her heart drummed against her ribs and she felt herself falling into the blue enchantment of his eyes.
He
smiled slowly and said, “I would see you draped in pearls, Lady Caroline, roped and tangled in pearls from your head to your knees.”
Her heart stopped banging against her ribs to knock against her knees. Anne cleared her throat and moved off a few paces, the footmen following her beckoning gesture.
“Pearls,” Ashdon continued. “My pearls wrapped around your naked body. Pearls sliding between your breasts, belted around your hips, cascading down the slope of your back.”
