What A Gentleman Wants (21 page)

They thanked me,“ he murmured absently. ”Quite profusely. I wonder why.“ No reply from behind him. ”Doesn’t it seem odd to you? Redley was cursing me in three languages when last I saw him, and today his wife practically threw herself at me.“ China clinked, but otherwise silence prevailed. ”You wouldn’t have any idea why, would you?“

“Wagering is immoral,” she said primly. “Taking a man’s home and livelihood because a card came up a three instead of a ten is the crudest, most despicable thing I’ve ever heard of.”

“Albert Redley is fifty years old,” he said. “I never thought to hear a woman barely half his age defend his vices.”

“I think it very Christian to give him another chance to redeem himself, change his ways, and learn from his misadventure instead of being left penniless.”

“Oh?” Marcus turned from the window. The Redleys were gone, and he wanted to watch her performance. “Then you know of his gambling debts.”

She made a soft tsk. “I know about his mistake.”

He leaned his shoulder against the window. “A mistake. Is that how one refers to drinking heavily and wagering every possession, including one’s hearth and home, on the flip of a card?”

“I should call that a mistake, yes. Have you never made mistakes?”

“I have never in my life risked what I couldn’t stand to lose, particularly not on something as random as cards. I call that stupidity, not a mistake.”

She shot to her feet. “Then perhaps you shouldn’t have been playing cards with him, if he’s so stupid.

Perhaps you took advantage of a man not used to drink. Perhaps you ought to—“

“I took advantage of him?” Marcus was thunderstruck. He advanced on her, noticing with great pleasure that her holier-than-thou attitude slipped a bit. “If anything, Redley took advantage of others, playing at a table with stakes beyond his means. Why do you think he did that? Was it perhaps in the hope of winning a fortune from those who had one?”

“
You
took the deed to his home,” she retorted, her chin rising.

“Do you know how much he lost?”

“No.” Her blue eyes sparkled with defiance, and Marcus continued his steady prowl toward her. Christ, but who would have guessed the vicar’s wife would look so stunning in silk and lace? As he got closer, she turned away, strolling across the room. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I counseled him on the error of his ways, and forgave the debt.”

“You did what?” He stopped, thunderstruck again. “It was not your place to do so.”

That wicked gleam was back in her eyes as she swung around by the table. “Oh, but as your wife, we are one, are we not? The twain shall become one flesh. As the half of the whole who happened to receive Lord Redley and his wife, I decided to forgive the debt.”

The twain becoming one was a terrible metaphor to use at that moment; similar thoughts had been plaguing Marcus for several days now, and the way she was standing, arms braced behind her on the table, the sun hitting her from the side and bathing her figure in light, unleashed the devil in him. She stood her ground, looking unconcerned, until he was within a foot of her. “Twenty thousand pounds,” he said. “Redley lost twenty thousand pounds. He didn’t stop when he had lost five thousand, or ten, or even seventeen. I didn’t want his deed, but he wagered it and lost”

“You were going to sell it!” She inched backward, but the table was right behind her. He tilted his head to enjoy her discomfort.

“What would I do with his property?” Marcus hardly even remembered telling Adams to send it to the solicitors to sell.

“His widowed mother lives there!” She moved back another inch. The table must be digging into her back, but she didn’t falter. “His children! Where would they go if you sold their home?”

He shrugged. “To relatives who might be more careful with their money than Redley? They aren’t my concern, but since you’ve already forgiven him, I suppose there’s nothing I can do now.”

She blinked. “No. Isn’t there… ?” Now she didn’t look quite so superior.

“Of course there isn’t,” he said softly, resting his hands on the table on either side of her hips. “The only question that remains is, how are you going to make it up to me?”

She flushed. “You don’t need that money.”

He arched a brow. “Don’t I? Do you know that?” She opened her mouth, then closed it, her defiance mixed with uncertainty now. “After all,” he said, laying a finger on the shoulder of her gown, “as you have made me well aware, I’ve spent a great deal of money lately on things like this.” He trailed his finger along the neckline, just barely touching the silk. The pulse in her neck throbbed rapidly. “Surely you have a plan to make good on Redley’s loss for him. All twenty thousand pounds.”

Hannah felt faint, no longer sure she was teaching the duke a good lesson. It was more money than she could imagine having in two lifetimes. “You know I

haven’t that much money,“ she retorted. He must be joking, she told herself nervously, shifting her hands behind her and trying to inch farther away from him without falling flat on her back.

“Oh, no, I’m not joking,” he said, as if he could read her mind. “You thought to teach me a lesson on the depravity of wagering; very well, I shall consider the point made. But now, perhaps you need a lesson in keeping your promises.”

“I’ve promised nothing,” she protested in a strangely weak voice.

“You promised him he would not have to repay the money. Perhaps I was counting on that money to pay my servants. Perhaps now I shall have to let some go. Perhaps we’ll be dining on soup for the next year because you graciously forgave an inveterate gambler’s debt.” Hannah bit her lip. She hadn’t thought he might need the money, certainly not more than poor Lady Redley and their children.

Then she shook herself mentally. The duke of Exeter, scraping for funds? Nonsense. Rosalind shopped like a woman made of gold, and there were legions of economies that could be made in the housekeeping alone. He was harassing her about her actions, which in hindsight she allowed were a gross violation of their agreement, but which were still the right thing to do.

“What do you want me to do?” He really ought to notice the uncomfortable position he had forced her into, and spare her the trouble of pushing him away. How on earth was it possible that she had absolutely no reaction to David, who was charming and friendly even if he were a lying rogue, and yet suffered from this horrible awareness of his brother? “Shall I scrub the floors for you? I can cook, you know, and wash and mend.”

His eyebrow went up. “Admirable talents. However,

I already have people tending to those tasks. We shall have to devise something else you might do which isn’t already done.“

Hannah’s mind drew a complete blank. She couldn’t think of what she could do to repay him, couldn’t think of anything at all when he was angling over her this way, his eyes dark with the promise of something she couldn’t even allow herself to consider. “I can’t think of anything you haven’t already got three servants doing,” she said, trying to brazen her way out

He grinned, a suddenly dashing expression that threw her off guard. Had she never seen him smile before? “Now, really. I can think of a few things neglected…” His gaze dipped to her mouth. “Things which might be adequate recompense.”

Hannah groped for her wits, which all seemed to be swooning in delight at the transformation of his face with that grin. It made her want to smile back at him, even though she suspected she knew what he was thinking. And even though it was wrong and she shouldn’t allow this to continue, when she opened her mouth to speak, it wasn’t a protest that came out. “Such as what?”

He moved a little closer, his arms beside her waist now. Hannah felt her equilibrium shift, tilting dangerously off balance. He was practically holding her in his arms; her feet were barely touching the floor, and she was only just holding herself up. He had held her at the dance, but that was different, in public, where they were presenting a happily married front. But now they were alone, and anything that happened would be just between the two of them.

His eyes were dark and deep, and the pulse in his throat was almost as fast as hers. Hannah felt her stomach take a plunge, and her heart a leap. If he kissed her, it would mean nothing but change every-thing. She shouldn’t let him. She couldn’t. She wet her lips and searched for words.

A trace of that grin bent his mouth again. “This, for example.” He smoothed a loose curl from her forehead. This.“ He stroked her cheek, and Hannah waited for him to kiss her. She didn’t know exactly why she was waiting for him to do that, as it could only cause trouble, but she stood there and waited for it the way a child waits for his Christmas pudding, afraid to move for fear of being sent into the corner without any, but trembling with anticipation inside.

His fingers brushed along her jaw, and Hannah let her eyes slide shut. She was idiotic to feel any sort of attraction to this man who wasn’t and wouldn’t be her husband. He kept a house fully furnished and ready for new mistresses to move right in. He lied to his mother and sister and all his friends and acquaintances. He would have sold the home from under Lady Redley and her family. He was cold and remote and not above using her to avoid embarrassment. He had already gotten her to lie to her family, his family, and dozens of perfect strangers.

“Twenty thousand pounds for a kiss?” she blurted out as she felt the first faint brush of his lips on hers. He went utterly still, and Hannah opened her eyes to meet his gaze, once again opaque and distant.

“One thousand pounds.” All Hannah’s good sense had deserted her. She already regretted her crude question, both for the way she had treated another person and for the way it had driven him back into the icy persona that she so abhorred. The glimpse of a warmer man inside had shaken her, and drawn her, more than she wanted to admit.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, turning her eyes downward. He straightened, removing his hands from the table and stepping away from her.

“Quite all right.” She hadn’t realize how much his tone had thawed until now, when his words all but dripped ice. She jerked her head up, suddenly realizing he had misinterpreted her apology. He straightened his cuffs and glanced at her. “No doubt we can devise a less painful method of repayment”

“I’m sorry I asked how much,” said Hannah as he strolled to the cabinet and got out a glass and a bottle of whiskey. “It was very rude. I apologize.”

He filled the glass over half-full. “No, no, I prefer to keep these things honest. Nothing is free, is it?” His mouth curled in a tight, humorless smile, not at all like the engaging one she had seen just moments ago. Hannah felt worse than she’d thought possible, but what could she say now?
Won’t you please be nice, the way you were just before I spoiled it
? He lifted his glass to her, the sunlight flashing on his signet ring, and then he turned away, facing the window.

“I’m sorry,” she said helplessly. He said nothing, and she hurried toward the door, glancing back again as she left. The sunlight was blindingly bright around him, obscuring everything but the general shape of a man, standing straight and tall and uncompromisingly alone.

He was meant to be alone. Marcus stared out the window at the street below, swirling the cool comfort of his whiskey. What was he thinking, to flirt with the vicar’s wife? Trying to kiss her when it was clear she would never regard him with anything but suspicion and mistrust? He must have gone mad. She could have sympathy for Redley, and enough spirit to set down Susannah, but he, clearly, was still a cold-blooded monster to her. Strange, how that thought could be so dispiriting.

He shook his head, trying to erase the image of her arched under him, her eyes closed, her lips parted, looking for all the world like a woman ready to be kissed. Just not by him.

He wondered if she had felt anything for David. His brother obviously hadn’t felt anything for her, to have abused her as he had, but women were capricious creatures and didn’t always react rationally. Hannah was better than most, though, or so he had thought. Forgiving a twenty-thousand-pound debt was highly irrational, in Marcus’s opinion. And she had agreed to marry David on barely three weeks’ acquaintance. At one point, Marcus had discarded the theory that she had done so out of greed; a greedy woman would have taken him up on his offer of money. Right now he almost wished she were one, for he could have offered her the twenty thousand pounds, for just one night in his bed…

His glass was empty. Marcus put it back on the tray with a sigh. Three fingers of whiskey and it was barely tea time. He was turning into David in more ways than one. He turned and went to find his secretary.

Hannah couldn’t stop thinking about the near kiss for the rest of the day. It wasn’t even so much that the duke had obviously wanted to kiss her, but that she had wanted him to kiss her. She had been trying to rationalize her attraction to him for some time; it was a purely physical reaction, brought on by having to live so near him and pretend an intimacy they didn’t have. Even as she repeated to herself that she really wasn’t his wife, it was too much to expect that she could act like his wife and not have a few wayward thoughts. After all, she had been married before, and had enjoyed lovemaking.

But now she had also been deprived of it for several months, and perhaps the lack of it had made her long for it. That, she told herself, must be why she wanted the duke to kiss her, even though she didn’t like to drink of herself as a lusty widow. It pleased her femininity to know he admired her, and since that admiration was closely linked in her mind with a husband’s attentions, her body was simply reacting out of habit. Yes. Habit, that’s all.

So even though it was a good thing she’d stopped herself from letting things happen that shouldn’t happen, she was still on edge and out of sorts about it. Perversely, it only made things worse when the man in question disappeared for the remainder of the day.

At first she was relieved. What would she have said to him anyway? Best she had some time to calm herself and think about how to handle their next meeting. Then she was uncomfortable, as the day wore on and she couldn’t concentrate on anything else but where he might be and what he might be thinking. Perhaps he was more put out by her actions that he’d let on. Perhaps he was angry at her. Perhaps he didn’t really care. Hannah didn’t even know why this made her upset. If anyone had a right to be angry, she did, after the way he had tried to… to… She shifted in her chair uneasily, remembering. He had only tried to do what she had been wondering about for days, and she obviously wouldn’t be able to forget it any time soon.