No disease is more dangerous than a bad husband, for if a woman catches that Pox, she'll languish from it her entire life.
Sabrina JeffriesTags: life
The man is always the last to know when
Cupid has struck him
-Anonymous, Memoirs of a Mistress
Tags: romance
As Oliver and Freddy pulled away from the Blue Swan, Oliver paid little heed to the lad’s chatter about his spectacular meal. All he could hear was Maria calling him my lord, as if she hadn’t just been trembling in his arms.
And the look on her face! Had she been insulted? Or just ashamed? How the devil had she stayed so collected, when he’d felt ready to explode after seeing her find her pleasure so sweetly in his arms? He’d actually come in his trousers, like a randy lad with no control over his urges. Now he had to keep his cloak buttoned up until he could reach Halstead Hall and change his clothes.
She’d made light of their encounter, damn her. Though I thank you for the lesson in passion…Had it meant nothing more to her? Apparently not, since she’d said, It isn’t something we should repeat.
Though the idea grated, she was right. They should stay apart, for his sake as well as hers. He’d actually offered to make her his mistress! He, who’d never kept a mistress in his life, who’d joked to his friends that mistresses were more trouble than they were worth since one woman was as good as another.
He’d always been driven by the fear that a mistress might tempt him to let down his guard and reveal his secrets. Then even his family would desert him, and he couldn’t bear that.
Even with his friends, he kept the strongbox of his secrets firmly closed. But with Maria…
He stared out the window, trying to figure out at what point in their conversation he’d lost all good sense. Had it been when she’d said she didn’t believe the gossip about him? Or before that, when she’d chastised Pinter for telling it to her?
No. Astonishing as those things had been, what had prompted his rash offer was the lost look on her face after he’d pointed out that Hyatt might not wish to be found. Even now he could see the fear rising in her eyes, much like the fear he’d seen in Mother’s eyes-of being inconsequential, unwanted.
And suddenly he’d desired nothing more than to make Maria feel wanted.
Not that he’d succeeded very well. She could hardly be flattered that he wanted her only for a mistress. He hadn’t meant it to insult her-he’d just been utterly swept up in the idea of her and him in a cottage together somewhere, without the rest of the rest of the world to muddy their lives.
Marriage meant jointures and pin money and siring an heir to continue the dynasty. A cottage meant just him and Maria.
What a fool he was. Even a woman with Maria’s low connections wanted more. And he couldn’t give it. The very thought of attempting it made him ill, because he could never make her happy. He would muck it up, and the legacy of misery would go on.
But he’d be damned if he’d watch her throw herself away on that fool Hyatt. She deserved better than an indifferent fiancé who had no clue how to make her eyes darken in passion as she shuddered and trembled and gave her mouth so sweetly…
He groaned. He shouldn’t have gone so far with her. It had frightened her. Worse yet, his reaction to it bloody well terrified him-because he’d give a great deal to be able to do it again. He’d never felt that way for any other woman.
Freddy was still blathering on, and suddenly a word arrested him.
“What was that you said?” Oliver asked.
“The beefsteak needed a bit more salt-“
“Before that,” he ground out.
“Oh. Right. There was a chap in that club claiming he was your cousin. Mr. Desmond Plumtree, I think.”
His stomach sank. When had Desmond gained membership at such a selective club? Did it mean the bastard was finally becoming accepted in society?
“Though if you ask me,” Freddy went on, “with family like him, who needs enemies? Insulting fellow. Told me a bunch of nonsense about how you’d killed your father and everybody knew it.” Freddy sniffed. “I told him he was a scurrilous lout, and if he couldn’t see that you were a good sort of chap, then he was as blind as a town crier with a broken lantern. And he didn’t belong in the Blue Swan with all those amiable gents, neither.”
For a moment, speech utterly failed Oliver. He could only imagine Desmond’s reaction to that little lecture. “And…er…what did he say?”
“He looked surprised, then muttered something about playing cards and trotted off to a card room. Good riddance, too-he was eating up all the macaroons.”
Oliver gaped at him, then began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“You and Maria-don’t you Americans ever pay attention to gossip?”
“Well, sure, if it makes sense. But that didn’t make sense. If everybody knew you’d killed your father, you’d have been hanged by now. Since you’re sitting right here, you can’t have done it.” Freddy tapped his forehead. “Simple logic is all.”
“Right,” Oliver said. “Simple logic.” A lump caught in his throat. Maria’s defending him was one thing; she was a woman and softhearted, though that had certainly never kept any other woman from gossiping about him.
But to have an impressionable pup like Freddy defend him…he didn’t know whether to scoff at the fellow’s naivete or clap him on the shoulder and pronounce him a “good sort of chap” as well.
Their ride back to Ealing was quiet. She avoided looking at him, while he couldn’t seem to stop looking at her. He tried to engage her in conversation, but the tart-tongued angel was in hiding, and he didn’t know how to get her back. Even Freddy must have realized that something had changed, for he kept his inane chatter to a minimum. By the time they reached Halstead Hall, Oliver’s nerves were on edge.
He was relieved that he could excuse himself to go work in his study on the ledgers he’d ignored last night, but he didn’t get very far. Even after an hour of turning pages and noting transactions, he kept hearing Maria’s sighs of pleasure, kept seeing her teasing smile as she said, “Would you offer to ravish me?”
Damned right he would.
A knock came at the door, jerking him from his disturbing reverie. As he glanced at the clock, shocked to discover that two hours had passed, Jarret entered and strolled over to the desk.
“Amazing,” the scapegrace said. “When the servant said you were in here working, I thought surely I’d misheard him.”
“Very amusing.
Thank you for the advice, but I know how to comport myself with Maria.”
“That remains to be seen.” Jarret rose, then bent to plant his hands on the desk. “But know this-none of us will stand by and let you ruin a young woman just to provoke Gran.”
Oliver shot to his feet. That his brother thought him capable of such a thing infuriated him, as did being lectured by him. It had never happened before, and he wasn’t about to allow it now.
Leaning forward until he and Jarret were eye to eye over the desk, he growled, “And what the deuce do you think you can do to stop me from acting as I please?”
A grim smile touched Jarret’s lips. “I could attempt to steal her from you.”
Somewhere in the recesses of his sanity, Oliver knew he was being baited, yet it made no difference. Just the idea of Jarret seeking to engage Maria’s affections crushed his usual control.
“If you lay a hand on her,” he ground out, “Gabe won’t be the only one wearing a sling in this family.”
With an enigmatic look, Jarret pushed back from the desk. “Fine.” His eyes turned to ice. “But be warned-the rest of us intend to make sure that you never lay a hand on her, either.” Without waiting for a response, he strode from the room.
He stared past her to the place at the other end of the dining table where Regina would sit as his wife. If she were here. If he hadn’t driven her away. “I’m not sure I know how to love, Louisa.”
She took his hand. “Don’t be silly. Loving is easy. It’s finding someone to love you back that’s hard.
I can think of only one good solution to this dilemma," Diego said, having spent the entire night developing a plan.
You sneak into the school and carry her off?" Gaspar quipped.
That is the not-so-good solution. And it would be very difficult to sneak into a house full of women without raising an alarm."
A cloud descended on Gaspar's brow. "I was not serious. Kidnapping is not a choice.
Tags: humor romance kidnapping
Lucy: I don't understand men.
Nettie: What is there to understand? If you feed 'em regular-like and give 'em a bit of 'sugar' now and then, they're easy enough. And if they don't behave, you just toss 'em out on their arses. That's what I always say.
Tags: humor men romance girl-talk
Terence: As my old da used to tell me, 'never trust a rich man'.
David: Good thing I'm only moderately rich.
Terence: Which is why I only moderately distrust you.
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