Crestwood crossed his arms. “Whatever happened to us, it was worse for him. Did you know that he pays whores to not sleep with him?”
He felt the blood drain from his face. Who had told them his secret? And if Crestwood knew, who else had gotten a hold of that information? “How did you know that?”
Crestwood’s brows dropped down low again. “You don’t prefer men, do you?”
“No,” the word came out strangled. His fists clenched at his sides. “If you two don’t shut your fucking…”
“There he is,” Crestwood smiled. “After all these years, the real Dashlane.”
The words ripped from his throat, hot and angry as his brain buzzed. “You don’t know the first thing about the real me. My mother worked in a—”
Both men dropped their arms. “Worked? Your mother wasn’t the viscountess?”
“She was.” He scrubbed his face, lead settling in his stomach. “After the first died and left the viscount without an heir.” He left out the part where he found her in a whorehouse that she cleaned in exchange for room and board, or that his father had already sired him out of wedlock several years prior.
“Not a happy union between your parents, I take it?” Craven asked, wincing as though he understood.
“No. Not at all. But my mother was beautiful. I remember that before she died.” Before his father wore her down into an early grave. He’d been ruthlessly mean to the woman whom he considered beneath him.
“Did she have your same blonde hair and blue eyes?” Crestwood asked.
Dashlane nodded. His mother had died when he was just five. She looked like an angel. Though he had his mother’s hair and eye color, everything else about him favored his father’s likeness. From his jaw line, right down to the odd curve of his largest toe. In fact, his father had stared at his feet upon their first meeting. An easy thing to do, since Ash hadn’t had shoes. His father had known of his existence and allowed his own child to live with barely enough to eat. Let alone providing serviceable clothing. Until the man had needed him, that was.
“So your father took a shine to your mother and then married her when the first countess died?”
Ash scrubbed his face. His father tried for years to produce an heir, and not just with the countess. For whatever reason, he was only successful with Ash’s mum. He married her in secret to make me legitimate and then passed me off as his first wife’s child. “Something like that.”
Despite living in a den of sin, shoeless, and sleeping in the ash, that was the happiest time in his childhood. “He was a cruel bastard and—” He stopped. He wasn’t ready to share this with anyone.
Craven sat in one of the other chairs, silently assessing Ash for some time before he finally spoke. “You don’t plan to marry because you hated him so much.”
Ash shrugged. Obviously, he’d said enough. “That’s about the meat of it.” There was so much more, of course, but these men had been highborn and would never understand what it meant to be sired in Cheapside.
Craven sat back. “Try to entertain the possibility that Cordelia is an answer and not an extension of your hurt.”
He could, in fact, entertain such an idea. He could picture being wrapped in her arms, holding her close. But he didn’t deserve such a lovely woman and he wouldn’t risk creating the next Lord Dashlane. The line ended with him.
* * *
Cordelia crouched behind a settee. On her left was Lady Charlotte Summerset, or Charlie, as her brother, Lord Hartwell, called her.
Charlie reached for Cordelia’s hand, holding it in her own as she bounced in excitement. “I can’t believe my brother is going to ask your sister to marry him.”
“Is she coming?” Bianca whispered from her right.
“Did she see your note?” asked Adrianna.
Cordelia drew in an excited breath as she looked over to where Ash hid behind a chair. She still hadn’t had a chance to speak with him about why he’d looked upset this morning but now wasn’t the time. The Marquess of Hartwell was about to propose to her sister, and he’d invited the entire family to participate in the surprise. Cordelia placed a hand over her heart. This was all so exciting.
“I…I hope so. If she didn’t wake—” Hartwell, grimaced, looking a bit pale.
“If she didn’t wake, perhaps the staff didn’t deliver it.” Ophelia reached over and patted Hartwell’s shoulder.
“Should I get her?” Adrianna asked, starting to rise.
“No,” Dane said, holding out his hand to stop their youngest sister. “She’ll come. We just have to be patient.”
Her father chuckled. “Patience is not a Moorish trait.”
Dane joined in the laugh. “I’m learning that.”
“I can barely stand the suspense,” Ophelia said, louder. “Can’t we get her?”
A rustling of skirts came from just outside the door. “Where is everyone?” The noise halted. “Hello?”
Cordelia looked to Hartwell. A large smile had spread across his face. Then, without warning, he popped up from behind the couch. “Juliet,” he said, holding his hand out to her.
Her own heart fluttered as they all rose too. Hartwell moved about the couch and taking Juliet’s hand, dropped to one knee.
“Dane,” Juliet cried, pulling on his hand. “What are you doing?”
Cordelia watched as he looked up at her sister. Her throat clogged with emotion.
“If romance is what my lady wants, then that is what I shall give her.”
“I…” Juliet started as her voice trembled.
“Oh this is so exciting.” Cordelia clapped and grinned, unable to control the emotion she felt in this moment. She had experienced her own first kiss yesterday. And she imagined what a proposal like this might be like.
Then she stopped. She had received a proposal, actually, but it had been nothing like this. Her excitement faded like dust in the air.
Adrianna reached over and hugged her. But some of the magic of the moment was lost.
“Juliet Moorish,” Hartwell said, everyone going silent.
“Yes,” her sister answered, visibly trembling.
He flipped her palm over and set a box down in her hand, then cracked open the lid.
Cordelia held her breath as a sparkling emerald came into view. She didn’t want to be, but suddenly a knot of jealousy twisted in her chest.
“Juliet,” he said again. “I told you that you sparkle more than any gem I’ve ever seen.”
“Dane.” Juliet’s voice cracked on his name.
He reached for the ring and gently pulled the gold band from the box. Holding it between two fingers, he held it up. “I never want to be without your light. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Her voice was so soft, Cordelia might have missed her sister’s reply.
“Yes,” she answered, her voice shaking with emotion.
Cordelia covered her mouth with her hands. She was so happy for Juliet. But she regarded her pianoforte, a candelabra resting on its surface. Would the instrument ever give her such joy and fulfillment? Then she glanced toward Ash. Would he?
“Yes?” Hartwell wrapped her sister in his arms.
“Yes,” she said louder, her hand resting on his neck. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
A cheer rose up from the group as Hartwell gave Juliet a rousing kiss. Happiness and hurt coursed through Cordelia. She was beginning to understand what she wanted from life, but she was less certain that what she wished for was in this room.
The merriment continued and as everyone crowded about the couple, Cordelia slipped outside onto one of the balconies that lined the room. She needed a moment to collect her thoughts. Yesterday, she’d been so certain of her path and now that she’d reached the fork, she wasn’t sure she still wanted to take it.
“Cordelia,” Ash said just behind her. “What are you doing out here?”
She looked over her shoulder, her heart hammering as she looked at his handsome profile. “Collecting my thou
ghts. You?”
“Checking on you,” he answered, simply.
She smiled at that, some of her worry fading. “That’s very kind. Thank you.” She shook her head. “That was so beautiful, it was almost overwhelming.”
He gave a tight nod and stepped up next to her. “They seem quite happy.”
“They do.” She looked out to the ocean beyond. “Happier than I ever imagined.”
Silence met those words as they stood together. His heat seeped into her side even as the wind blew off the water making her shiver.
His fingers brushed her elbow. Sensation sizzled along her skin. “Have you considered my offer?”
She gave a short laugh. “Only all day.”
He chuckled too. “That’s good, I think.” Then his hand slid about her waist, drawing her closer until she pressed into his warmth.
“I haven’t come to any conclusion.” She shook her head.
His fingers tightened. “I see.”
She looked at him then. If she were going to sift through her feelings, she needed to ask him about this morning. “When I called my father out on his falsehood, you looked upset.”
“Did I?” he answered, pulling away. She immediately missed his heat. Funny, she didn’t think she’d care about such a thing, but she found she did. Warmth seemed as basic as air, food, and water. How had she not realized lacking it would create such a giant hole? She reached up and brushed her fingers against his chest. “You did. Why?”
His face closed again, his gaze shuttering as he moved further away still. Cordelia wrinkled her brow. Clearly, something this morning had upset him, but she didn’t understand what.
Chapter Ten
Ash ran a hand through his hair. Cordelia was too smart. Even now, she was unravelling the edges of his past, figuring out his weakest points, and eventually, she’d discover how little he was actually worth.
He rubbed his face to hide the clenching of his jaw.
He just had to hold on until they married. Then his past wouldn’t matter. He’d give her a career and she’d help him with his ultimate goal.
Realization made him go still. There was one flaw in his plan. If they never shared intimacy then she could, if she learned of his past, have the marriage annulled. And if they were intimate, they risked creating a child. And the viscountcy would go on for another generation.
That made him pivot toward her. “You said you haven’t come to any conclusions. Tell me, what are you worried about?”
One delicate shoulder rose. “All sorts of things. Once I choose a path, I can’t undo it. Not this one.”
He gave his head a tiny shake. Should he be relieved or afraid? It was almost as though she’d read his thoughts. “True. What are you worried you’ll regret?”
She looked down at her hands. “I want my music. More than anything. But to give up intimacy forever…” She drew in a breath. “I know I said I was fine with a single kiss but watching Juliet…”
He grimaced. She had every right to feel that way. His gut clenched. He wished he could give her that. She deserved it. “I understand. Do you think another husband would be open to you pursuing music?”
She nibbled at her lip. “Unlikely.”
Relief washed through him. He hated to admit that he’d grown rather attached to the idea of marrying her. Which was all wrong. The entire point was to avoid such feelings. He had the vague sense that the entire situation was spinning out of control.
“With me, you can have your music, the front of a successful match for your family, and—”
She held up her hand. “The problem with a front, as you called it, is that I actually feel a…” She stopped, looking into the room as she reached for his hand and pulled him into the shadows. “I allowed you to kiss me last night. Can we really keep up a front at all, especially when we’re living together?”
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “We should discuss this in a more private setting. Meet me in our spot at midnight.” Then he stepped back into the light. What was he doing?
Being alone with her again was a terrible idea for so many reasons. First, she grew closer to uncovering his past every time they talked. And second, he was trying to avoid intimacy with her, not promote it. But she also needed convincing.
And if he were honest, not that he wanted to be, he’d like to hold her again.
“I’m not sure…” She frowned as she followed him back into the lit and visible section of the balcony.
He tried to calm his racing heart. It thrummed at the very idea of being alone with her. “As I said to you this morning. This can only work if we’re clear on the rules. Perhaps agreeing to some might ease your worries.” The rules wouldn’t ease his. Even now, he had the distinct urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless.
She nodded slowly. “That does make sense. Knowing where we each stand would be helpful.”
“And we can’t do that under your family’s watchful gaze.” He nodded into the music room where no less than three sets of eyes watched them on the balcony.
She gave a tentative nod. “That makes sense. I’ll meet you at midnight.” And then she slipped back through the doors.
Ash followed, the group already toasting to the new couple. He took a glass of champagne but hardly drank. Last night had been enough for him and besides, he needed to keep his wits about him now.
Cordelia also took a glass, but he noted she didn’t drink either. Instead, she crossed to her pianoforte and struck up a tune that had the whole group dancing.
It was lively, effortless, and fun in a way that stole his breath. Everything about this woman was beautiful.
He didn’t attempt to engage her for the rest of the evening. Just watching her play was exquisite torture. Never had he wanted to touch someone so much. But also, he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt such beauty.
The evening wore on, and to his relief, the entire family indulged in a fair bit of champagne. He quirked his brow. They had decided to hold Juliet’s wedding the following day. That made him laugh. The morning was going to be painful.
At quarter till twelve, he watched Cordelia stand from the bench and say her goodnights. She gave him a single glance as she left the room.
He kicked his feet out, as though he didn’t have a care in the world. As though he weren’t going to wait fifteen minutes and follow her. Best not to arouse suspicion yet.
The clock ticked by agonizingly slow as he waited and then finally slipped from the room, staying outside the door, listening to see if anyone missed him. They didn’t.
He crept down the stairs, through the ballroom and out into the garden. While he’d been to the spot twice, the layout was intricate and he worried that he might not find the spot.
“Ash,” her voice called from the shadows, making his trousers heavy as the blood pooled in his manhood.
“Cordelia,” he replied, his voice rough and harsh.
She stepped from the deep shadow, reaching for his hand. Her small fingers slid into his, making his muscles tense as she pulled him down a dark path. “This probably isn’t the best place for us to go. My entire family knows it’s my favorite.”
“They don’t suspect a thing. They’re busy planning Juliet’s wedding.”
“And drinking.” He heard the laugh in her voice. “I can assure you, we hardly ever drink. It’s been an interesting week.”
He laughed too, sliding his other hand to her waist. She stopped. “You shouldn’t do that.”
“I shouldn’t.” She was absolutely right. “It goes against the one term I’ve already established.” And yet, he couldn’t help himself.
* * *
Cordelia wanted to turn and step into his arms. Truth be told, she wanted to accept his offer. But not with that term.
Somehow, making that decision made her feel better. She did want him, and she wanted her music. Was that wrong?
Wrong or right, having it both ways likely wasn’t possible. That was the fact. But they had ton
ight. Now. “So our first term is that should we marry, there is no intimacy.”
“Correct.”
She let out a trembling breath as she shook her head. “Because of your father.”
“Yes,” he answered, his voice dropping lower.
Her hand whispered up his arm. “Did he hurt you?”
He stepped back, retreating into the darkness, away from her, but his silence was her answer. “Talking about my past is not part of the bargain,” he finally said.
She didn’t move, allowing him to retreat. “All right. We’re not to touch. We’re not to share.”
He let out a long breath. “I’m proposing a business partnership, Cordelia.”
And so he was. And she knew that she didn’t wish to take it. But his kiss, that was a different matter entirely. “I changed my mind. When you touched my waist, I said you shouldn’t. I was wrong. You should.”
She heard him shift. Her own heart was hammering in her chest at his nearness. “I shouldn’t. It will cloud our agreement.”
She stepped closer to him then. Even if she couldn’t see him in the dark, she could feel him. She reached up allowing her fingers to slide down him like they were an instrument she wished to play. It was a bold move on her part and something she’d never done, but if she didn’t think and trusted her fingers, she’d likely know how to touch him. Her hands never failed her.
He didn’t hold her, but he didn’t withdraw either. There was so much she wished to say but she was afraid he’d retreat again and so she remained silent allowing her fingers to slide over the deep ridges of his muscles.
“Cordelia,” he warned, his voice tinged with desperation.
She moved in closer, her body only a whisper from his. “And if there was no ‘agreement?’”
He slid his hand to her waist and suddenly she was pressed to his front, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. His breath blew light and warm across her cheek. “Are you turning me down?”
She swallowed, breathing in his scent. “I am.”
His hand stiffened at her waist. “Because I didn’t tell you about my father?”
What a Vulgar Viscount Needs: Romancing the Rake Book 5 Page 6
