He blinked back into focus. “Sorry, sweetheart. I was thinking.”
“Thinking?” She tightened her grip on his arm. “About what?”
“You,” he said simply. “And your problem.”
She shook her head. “You’ve been terribly kind. Let’s discuss you instead.”
“What about me?” he asked, knowing they’d been hidden for too long. They should return to the bench. Hell, he should bring her inside.
She tapped her chin. “Well, for starters, I’d love to know more about your plan to burn down your title in a fiery blaze of glory.”
He grimaced, pulling her into the middle of the terrace again. “You remember that, do you?” What he still hadn’t decided was what came after. What did he do when he’d killed his father’s line for good?
“I do,” she answered, tucking her hand into his. She looked up to the windows, sure her family was watching.
“I know it’s not the best plan, but it’s the only one I can see that fits.”
She swallowed, looking over at him. “You don’t like your father.”
He gave a slight shudder, almost imperceptible. “Hate is the better word.”
She turned to look at him. “And you’re willing to go to debtors’ prison for your hate?”
“It won’t come to that.” He stopped, turning to her. “The assets will cover most of the debt.”
“What will you do the rest of your life?” she asked. “How will you live?”
He turned toward her. “I am still working that part out.”
She cocked a brow. “Currently, you are still in the destruction phase of your plan.”
He shook his head. “That makes me sound truly terrible.” He drew in a breath. “It’s not as bad as it seems. I am plenty skilled. My father saw to that. I just haven’t wanted to use them. They were his. Not mine. I’m versed in finance, business, trade. He saw fit that I received the education that befitted his status. And because of it, I could start a business or run an estate. But that would be his path.”
She nodded. “I understand.” She did. She wanted her own path too. Though staring at him, a woman might forget.
He stopped, his hand reaching for her. “You do. Don’t you?”
“I do. How have you supported yourself then? If you haven’t used your education?”
He cocked his brow. A small smile touching his lips. This was the part about being a rake he actually enjoyed. “Gambling. All my mathematical lessons have come in handy in the most scandalous path possible.”
She laughed then, covering her mouth with her hand. “It’s funny. I know that we’ve kissed. But I have the feeling that we’d make wonderful friends.” She smiled up at him. “I’ve told you things that I’ve never shared with anyone and…”
“It’s not funny at all.” He leaned close to her ear. “I was tempted to spill all my secrets last night. Just as you offered.”
She cocked her head. “When you’re done burning down the viscountcy, find me again. Perhaps I will be a true spinster, everyone given up on marrying me off, and you will be poor and happy, and we could…”
His fingers twined into hers. “What could we do, Cordelia?” There was an edge to his voice, deep and masculine that made her shiver despite the sun. It didn’t frighten her, rather it excited her.
She swayed closer to him. “I…” She licked her lips and his eyes followed her tongue. “I meant we could be friends. Help one another.”
His brow drew together. “So a relationship where we are just chums? Pals? From the man you asked for a kiss?”
Her face flushed with heat. “I suppose that does sound odd.” She shrugged. “If I were honest, I feel more comfortable asking things of you than I do anyone else.”
He relaxed his hold.
And then they began dancing again. Slowly. “I didn’t mean to offend. It had never occurred to me to have a female friend. But now that you say it, an idea is forming.”
“Idea?”
He nodded. “Yes. Let’s see. I need a future that provides for me but is separate from the viscountcy. You need a way to avoid marriage and start a career in music.”
“That’s right.”
He stopped dancing again, and suddenly, he dropped to one knee. “Cordelia Moorish, I’ve a proposal for you.”
“Proposal?” Her voice cracked on the single word.
He nodded. “I want you to be my wife.”
She blinked several times, her knees going weak. “But you said you wouldn’t be caught by me. You wouldn’t be caught by anyone.”
“I did. And if I am married already, to my dear friend, then there is no chance that I ever will marry anyone else.”
Only one explanation made any sense. He was mad.
Chapter Eight
As far as plans went, this was likely a terrible one. But it was a plan.
Ash resisted the urge to run his hands through his hair. Instead, he held both her hands in his. How would he ever resist the constant temptation she’d present?
“Married? As friends?” Her hands shook in his and he gripped them tighter wanting to comfort her.
“Correct. You’ll be free to pursue your music career, completely protected by my title.”
She stilled, even the shaking stopped. “And you?”
He shrugged. “I’ll have an answer to my financial woes. Though, you’re right. If I am to play the part of faithful husband, I’ll have to find a real career. Rake won’t do.”
Her brow furrowed at that. “Play the part? We won’t actually be husband and wife? So we will never…” Her words drifted off as color rose in her cheeks.
He got her meaning anyway and every muscle in his body clenched at the very idea of this woman underneath him. “No. Never.”
It wasn’t that he was afraid of intimacy, but he could not bear a child with a wife. It would ruin his perfect plot for revenge.
She nibbled on her lip. “Can I think about your offer?”
He gave a stiff jerk of his chin. He’d prefer she’d answer now, actually. With time, he feared she would expose several more holes in his plan.
For example, she might realize he was born a bastard and raised in a bordello. Or perhaps, that his father had hated the very sight of him even as he’d attempted to mold Ash into the perfect lord.
Would Cordelia grow to hate him too?
Or she might deduce that he wanted to kiss her constantly. Since the first moment he’d met her, in fact. And now that he’d had a taste…they’d have to live apart. But at least she’d be his, even just in name. Which made him a selfish bastard, he knew. “Of course you can think about it. It’s a big decision.”
He rose from his knee, swiping his thumbs across the back of her hands.
She looked at him with her brows drawn together and he shifted. What was she thinking now? What had she figured out? Analytical? Highly. Nerve-wracking? Very.
“It’s a very unusual idea and I’m…” her voice stalled again.
“Not so unusual. Many couples make a business arrangement rather than a love match.” He stepped closer, catching a whiff of her scent.
She shook her head. “This is different. Those are often based on creating heirs or social standing. They are not usually about music careers and ending a viscountcy. How do you even go about ending such a thing? I’ve never heard of anyone even trying.”
He shrugged. “I manage to sell off every asset, even the ones that are entailed. Takes a fair bit of legal prowess, actually, but I’ve studied for the occasion. Once that’s done, I can begin building my own assets. And then, of course, I do not make an heir. That is the key.” He leaned closer, his gaze intent upon her. “It will work as long as we’re both in agreement about the rules and goals.”
She nodded absently, her eyes staring off in the distance. “I have to confess, I do like rules.”
That made him smile. Really grin, in fact, and the tension he hadn’t even realized he was holding in his shoulders relaxed. He let o
ut a long rush of air. “Exactly.”
“Cordelia?”
Ash looked to the right to see Cordelia’s eldest sister, Ophelia, standing a few feet from them under the branches of a tree. Her hands were clasped and her eyebrows up as she stared at them.
“Yes?” Cordelia asked, her face swiveling away from him and toward her sister.
Ophelia stepped out from under the branches, her gaze lingering on Ash. All that tension returned. Her eyes narrowed as she stared. “Just wanted to check in on you. How are you doing?”
Cordelia waved her hand, her long, tapered fingers fluttering like leaves in the wind. “Fine. Lord Dashlane and I were discussing Papa’s announcement.”
“Announcement?” Ophelia asked, her eyes going wide again as she rushed forward. “What announcement?”
“That I’m to go to London. There’s a month left in the season before everyone travels back to the country.”
“London? Why? With whom?” Ophelia was right next to them now, her hand plucking at her sister’s sleeve.
Cordelia wrinkled her adorable nose. “Aunt Mildred.”
Ophelia gasped. “No. Why? That will be absolute torture. She’s so—”
Cordelia looked down at their still-joined hands. She gave his a light squeeze. “He thinks it’s time I find a husband. I can only assume that all of you pairing off has made him antsy to get the job done.”
Ophelia covered her mouth with her hand as she looked again at Lord Dashlane. Then her hand dropped. “And was Lord Dashlane presenting possible solutions?”
Cordelia shook her head. “Just the one.”
Ophelia dropped her hands, pressing her skirts smooth of any nonexistent wrinkles. “I understand.” She took a step back. “I’ll be in the rose garden if you need me.” Then she melted back under the trees, leaving the two of them alone once again.
* * *
Cordelia turned back to the man who had sent her spinning. Her father’s announcement had been one thing. After the initial shock of it, she’d realized he was still her papa and he’d be reasonable at the end.
But this man. She wasn’t certain he was safe. Was she jumping from the frying pan into the fire?
When she’d first met him, he’d been a handsome, carefree, lovable rake. The more she knew him, however, the more she understood there was literally layer upon layer underneath his façade teeming with emotion.
And then there were the feelings he brought out in her. Granted, she hadn’t met a great deal of men in her life, but the one standing in front of her frightened her.
No, that wasn’t quite right. He made her frightened of herself.
He effortlessly brought out emotions in her she didn’t even know she’d had. Curiosity, passion, desire. And he amplified others. She wanted to help him too, hold him, comfort him. Those might be the ones that worried her the most.
Because she could fall into this relationship, wanting to help. But how could they remain distant with all those feelings teeming inside her?
“Like I said,” his voice hummed through her, causing shivers of pleasure to scatter along her skin. “You can take all the time you need. With all the impending weddings, I’ll be here. I think your schedule might be the determining factor.”
She nodded. “Thank you.” What else did one say to a proposal of convenience? “If you don’t mind, I may return to the music room. I often think best when playing.”
He shook his head. “You should eat first. You haven’t done that yet.”
She blinked, her lips parting. “I suppose I didn’t.”
He gave her a soft smile. One of the ones he’d warned her to guard against. He was right. They made a woman’s heart thunder. “You need someone to care for you, Cordelia. I could be that someone.”
Her head tilted to the side. “You need someone too. I can feel it.”
She could also feel his withdrawal. The way her words made him tense. Almost imperceptibly, he leaned away from her and that soft smile turned brittle.
“I’ve been caring for myself for a long time,” he said.
He didn’t want her care. That much was clear, but the question was why? Why didn’t he wish to let her in? And what was the reason he wanted a marriage in name only?
He walked her back inside and returned her to the breakfast room. Her father was still there, joined by several of her sisters. He hummed a merry tune as he ate his breakfast.
He didn’t ask anything as he ate his eggs, but he looked particularly pleased with himself as he patted his stomach. “Just what a man needs after a late night.”
“Indeed,” she answered, taking her seat and returning to her breakfast. Her father appeared rather happy for a man who’d announced he was sending his daughter away. He’d been avoiding sending them with Aunt Mildred for years. He loved his daughters and the countess had never been very friendly. Unless…
She nearly gasped. Was there really a trip to London?
She took a bite of her tart and regarded her father. “Now that you’ve proposed a trip to London, I find I am quite looking forward to it.”
Her father stopped chewing, his smile disappearing. “Really?” His fork fell and then he quickly picked it up. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”
But Cordelia wasn’t fooled. His first reaction had given away the game. There was no trip to London. He’d made it up.
She looked at Ash, whose eyes had gone hard. She’d have to tell him later. Her father fancied himself an actor and he’d likely made up the story to force Dashlane into proposing. Which was exactly what had happened.
“London?” Bianca asked. “Why would Cordelia be going to London?”
Her father cleared his throat, but he didn’t get to answer as Adrianna pushed back her chair. “London? With whom? Surely not Aunt Mildred?”
Her father grimaced as her sisters erupted in a litany of complaints. She gave her father an angelic smile. He was turning green as the volume in the room rose. She leaned forward. “That is what you get,” she whispered just loud enough to be heard over the din.
He went from green to pale. “You know?”
She shrugged. “I do now. By the way, I must commend your acting. I didn’t suspect a thing. But now that I know, you deserve what they are about to rain down on you.”
Her father spluttered even as her sister’s descended, all of them talking at once.
“How could you?”
“Aunt Mildred?”
“London without us?”
Then she stood with her plate and winked at Ash. Triumph raced in her veins. Until she saw his face. He didn’t look relieved. Far from it. He’d also gone completely pale.
Oh dear. Why did he look so upset? Was he regretting his proposal?
Chapter Nine
Ash escaped the dining room and made his way out of the house and back toward the village.
She was too intelligent.
She’d quickly figure out that he was unworthy of even a sham match. That she was tying herself to the worst sort of man. A fake, a piece of Cheapside trash. His father’s favorite insult. His stomach pitched.
He combed his hair back and then scrubbed his face with his hands. He had two choices. Abandon the plan—likely the better choice—or try to push it through faster before she figured out that he was an act. She already suspected. She’d said as much last night.
And look how quickly she’d soused out her father’s fabrication. He winced, stopping in the road. And if by some chance he convinced her to marry, then what?
His body tightened. It was a bad plan. She was so lovely and he…he was committed to never making an heir. And then he dropped his head into his hands. He’d never wanted to abandon his plan more. Then he lifted his face again. It was a line of cruelty that could not continue.
Returning to the village, he stopped at the inn, to actually eat breakfast, his third attempt of the morning, and then he headed back to the cottage. He’d expected to sleep. He was exhausted after last night, but rather than rel
ax, he found himself pacing. What should he do next?
Finally, the door opened, and Crestwood and Craven entered the house. Crestwood was classically handsome with rich brown hair while Craven was dark and craggy. He’d heard women describe him as mysterious and dangerous, but Ash didn’t see it.
“There you two are.” He grinned at his friends, relieved for the distraction. “I’ve barely seen you in days.”
Craven grunted, which was his usual response to everything. Crestwood chuckled. “We’ve been busy wooing ladies.”
Ash scrubbed his neck. “I’d noticed.”
“And you?” Craven asked, one of his heavy brows rising. “What have you been doing?”
Did he tell them about what he’d asked Cordelia? Some part of it? Likely not. They were men, after all. They didn’t share their feelings. “I have been trying to leave this village, but you two keep getting in my way.”
Craven grunted again. “Liar.”
The word rang in his head. Why was everyone so intent on calling him out? “I’m not in danger of falling in love, if that’s what you’re asking.” They were right, he was a liar. But the truth was that it didn’t matter if he did or didn’t.
Craven lifted the other brow. “I am curious. What happened to you that you are so dead set against love?”
Ash’s mouth fell open. Then he snapped it shut, his jaw snapping together. “I like you better when you don’t talk.”
Crestwood chuckled. “A woman shattered my heart into a million pieces. Adrianna is putting it back together. Piece by piece.”
Ash nearly choked on his own tongue. “This is what we’re doing now? Sharing our feelings? Are we going to hug next and fix each other’s cravats?”
Craven let out a bark of laughter that sounded rough, as though the sound was rusty. “Someone is in the throes of indecision. It’s difficult to let go of the past and open up to real affection.”
Ash staggered back. What the bloody hell had happened to his friends? In the five years they’d been acquainted, they’d never once shared their feelings. Not even close.
What a Vulgar Viscount Needs: Romancing the Rake Book 5 Page 5
