I agree wholeheartedly with Lily: Winifred’s matchmaking endeavors are maddening! But at least I was able to turn her meddling to my advantage.
– Roslyn to Fanny
Roslyn gritted her teeth, trying to hide her mortification. Initially she’d been alarmed by Winifred’s uncustomary feebleness, but now she was simply vexed, since it was clear that once again her ladyship was attempting to throw her at the duke’s head.
She sent him a fleeting look of apology, hoping he was astute enough to realize that she had played no part in her friend’s machinations, but his look was inscrutable.
Removing her evening cloak, Roslyn handed it to the butler. “I will direct his grace to the parlor, Pointon, if you see to the other arrangements.”
“Very good, Miss Loring.”
Silently then, she led the way down the corridor to the green parlor while Arden followed. It was an ostentatious room that bespoke wealth if not good taste. Although there was no fire in the grate, a lamp burned dimly on the mantel.
Crossing to the lamp, Roslyn turned up the flame before facing the duke with a rueful grimace. “I feel I must apologize for Lady Freemantle, your grace. She is evidently set on matchmaking, but you needn’t feel threatened. You are in no danger from me.”
An ironic smile played across his lips. “I remember. You have set your sights on Haviland.”
Roslyn felt color rise to her cheeks. “Well…yes.” She gestured toward the brocade couch. “Please, make yourself comfortable. Pointon will bring you wine shortly.”
With a polite curtsy, she started to leave, but Arden’s amused drawl followed her. “You needn’t run away again, Miss Loring.”
Her gaze snapping back to his, she halted, nettled by his provoking tone. “I am not running. I am walking to the library to fetch a book to read, since I am too agitated to sleep.”
His penetrating glance surveyed her. “Eleanor told me you are bookish.” When that elicited no response, he said more pointedly, “Stay and have some wine. You look as if you could use it.”
Roslyn hesitated. Winifred had been right on that score at least; she was still shaken by the attempted robbery.
Pointon entered just then with a tray containing a decanter of wine and two crystal wine goblets. When the duke instructed him to leave the tray on a side table, the butler did as he was bid and bowed himself out.
“Sit down, Roslyn,” Arden ordered as he went to the table to pour them each a glass of wine.
Roslyn didn’t protest. Deplorably, her hands were trembling. Sinking onto the couch, she clasped her fingers together and gave a small laugh. “It is foolish to be so missish. The peril is long passed.”
“It isn’t foolish at all,” the duke replied. “You could have been shot tonight.”
She glanced up at him as he carried her glass over to her. “Have you ever shot someone before?”
“Once, to foil another highway robbery. I was more successful that time.”
“You were successful this time. The thief didn’t make off with Winifred’s jewels as he intended. She would have been devastated to lose her brooch-although I doubt she is quite as distraught as she claims.”
Arden settled beside her with the fluid elegance that characterized all his movements, making Roslyn suddenly very aware of his proximity. She quickly took a sip of wine to distract herself. “It was kind of you to remain here tonight to solace our nerves, but you needn’t become any more involved in our affairs.”
He gave a shrug of his lithe shoulders as he relaxed back against the couch. “Marcus would never forgive me if I let harm befall you when I could have prevented it.”
At his casual movement, Roslyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She couldn’t help remembering the feel of the hard-muscled body concealed beneath that impeccably tailored coat. She drank another swallow of wine, trying to discipline her wayward thoughts. “You are not responsible for my welfare, your grace.”
“I know. But I still plan to remain here for a day or two.”
She managed a wry smile. “If you stay, her ladyship’s matchmaking will only get worse.”
“Don’t concern yourself. I’ve had ample experience foiling eager matchmakers.” His tone was still amused, but an undercurrent of cynicism had crept into his voice.
“I can imagine,” Roslyn replied, before returning to the problem of the holdup. “So you mean to meet with the bailiff, Mr. Hickling, tomorrow morning?”
“Yes, to have him begin a search for the highwayman.”
“I would like to be present.” When Arden raised an eyebrow, Roslyn expounded. “I saw the culprit up close, so I can offer the best description. And I know most everyone in the district and where to search.” She paused, gazing down at her glass. “The real truth is, however, I would like to feel as if I am contributing. I don’t like feeling so helpless.”
Arden nodded as if he understood. “You are welcome to join us, sweeting. But only if you promise me never to challenge any more armed bandits. You should allow me the chance to play the hero.”
Roslyn shot him a sharp glance before realizing that he was baiting her in a deliberate attempt to take her mind off the robbery. “You were rather heroic tonight,” she admitted lightly, making an effort to quell her disquiet.
“So were you.”
“You said I was foolhardy.”
His slow grin was irresistible. “That too.”
Roslyn smiled back at him. The wine was succeeding in relaxing her somewhat, so she wasn’t quite as unnerved by Arden’s nearness. But it still was deplorable the way her pulse reacted to him. It was a purely physical response, of course. Her emotions were not engaged in the least. She wasn’t even sure she liked the duke. She certainly couldn’t deny her attraction, however.
She was glad when he changed the subject, even though the one he chose was just as provoking.
“Marcus told me of your bluestocking tendencies,” Arden said, studying her. “And Eleanor says that you read Latin. I confess I find it surprising.”
“Why?” Roslyn queried. “You don’t believe women should be educated in masculine disciplines?”
“No, I just wonder at your having such an unusual interest. You don’t look to be the scholarly type.”
Her smile this time was cool. “Many people mistakenly leap to that conclusion. They take one look at me and assume I don’t have a mind. You did yourself the night we first met. Your proposition was based entirely on my appearance.”
“Not entirely. Your wit appealed to me, too.”
She laughed at that. “You had no chance to determine my wit before you offered to make me your mistress.”
“I believe the circumstances justified my assumption about you,” Arden said amiably. “I thought you a courtesan.”
“But even men who know that I am a lady rarely look beneath the surface.”
“So you consider your beauty a disadvantage rather than an attribute?” he clarified, his tone skeptical.
Her smile turned strained. “It frequently is. No woman wants to be plain, of course, but beauty can make one a target for the worst sort of reprobates.”
“Marcus said a wastrel recently pursued you.”
Her brows drew together as she eyed Arden. “You seem to have discussed a great deal about me with Marcus.”
“Not a great deal. He volunteered the information several months ago when he was lamenting inheriting responsibility for you and your sisters.”
Roslyn squared her shoulders. “Well, I have been propositioned too many times for comfort. But I intend to do the propositioning this time.”
The gleam of amusement in Arden’s eyes only deepened. “And your proposition entails marriage.”
“Indeed. I intend to find a husband who can love me for myself, not for something so superficial as my appearance.”
She stared at Arden defiantly, expecting him to say something cutting, but he merely took a swallow of wine.
“Why choose Haviland?” he finally asked.
“Because I think he would make an ideal husband for me.”
The duke responded with a sardonic lift of one eyebrow. “How so?”
“For one thing, he doesn’t see me as a featherhead or an object to covet. And I sincerely like him. He is intelligent and kind, and he shares my sense of the absurd. What’s more, he enjoys children and treats his elderly grandmother with affection. He doesn’t feel compelled, either, to prostrate himself before society’s dictates, which could prove beneficial for me. Given Haviland’s rebellious streak, he should be more amenable than most noblemen to having a countess tainted by family scandal.”
“It isn’t just his wealth and title that appeal to you?”
Roslyn shook her head firmly. “Wealth and title don’t make a man admirable, your grace. Lord Haviland gave up an exciting career to fulfill his familial obligations. I admire his willingness to sacrifice, to put his responsibilities over his own personal desires.”
“You expect me to believe you aren’t the least interested in his fortune?”
She eyed the duke with exasperation, realizing he was determined to think the worst of her. “You may believe whatever you like, but I don’t consider wealth a qualification for happiness, at least not if one has enough income to subsist on.” She gave a wry smile. “Four years ago the issue was in question. I thought I might have to accept a marriage of convenience in order to protect my sisters. We were penniless and disgraced and dependent on our step-uncle for our very existence. I was prepared to marry to spare my sisters having to do so if necessary. But thankfully Arabella soon hit upon the idea of starting our academy, and Lady Freemantle willingly funded the endeavor. She employed us to design the buildings and curriculum. And once our doors opened seven months later it allowed us the financial independence to choose our own futures.”
“But Marcus has provided amply for you now. I understand that you needn’t marry at all if you don’t wish to.”
“But I do wish to marry. I don’t want to go through life as a spinster. I want a family…children.”
Arden’s mouth twisted. “How positively dull that sounds.”
Roslyn smiled. “Perhaps so, but I expect I will cherish it.”
“Passion isn’t a requirement in your marriage?”
She felt her face warm. “Passion would be agreeable but it isn’t critical. What I want more is fidelity.” When he raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation, she gave him one. “You may have heard that my father had countless mistresses. He made my mother’s life miserable…left her so hurt and humiliated that she took her own lover. I could never accept such blithe attitudes toward affairs and infidelities in my marriage. A husband who loves me will be less likely to stray from the marriage bed.”
“And you think you can make Haviland fall in love with you?”
“I hope so. I would never marry him otherwise.”
Drew stared at her for a long moment, taking in her earnest expression, the solemnity in her blue eyes. The sincerity in her arguments rang true, he conceded. Perhaps Roslyn Loring was not really as mercenary as he’d presumed. She simply had developed a logical, rational plan to go after what she wanted.
He had to admire her determination to take charge of her own fate, at least.
“You have obviously given this careful thought,” he finally said.
“I have,” Roslyn agreed, her beautiful features relaxing.
Tearing his gaze away, Drew drained his wineglass. He couldn’t imagine why an image of vulnerability kept flitting through his mind when he looked at her, since Roslyn seemed to be one of the more capable women he had ever met. Perhaps because Marcus had told him how she’d had to fight off more than one eager admirer. Her exquisite beauty, combined with her lack of fortune and her former guardian’s indifference, would make her the target of rakes and scoundrels. Which was why she had reacted so scornfully to his own improper offer, Drew suspected.
Feeling rather contradictory emotions toward her, he rose and crossed the room to refill their wineglasses. When he returned, he handed Roslyn hers but remained standing.
She thanked him and then offered him a rueful smile. “I hope you will forgive Lady Freemantle for her plotting. She means well. Now that Arabella is wed, she hopes to see Lily and me well settled. But her desire to matchmake is not driven by any avaricious motives. Winifred really is a romantic at heart.”
“As are you, it would seem,” Drew replied, his tone sardonic.
“Yes, and you are a complete cynic,” Roslyn said sweetly. “I can comprehend why, since so many women have hounded you, trying to ensnare you in matrimony. But I trust you will acquit me of having designs on you.” The teasing light in her eyes brightened. “You needn’t worry, your grace. I have no intention of joining the leagues of love-smitten females in a contest for your hand.”
Drew gave a rough chuckle. “They are hardly love-smitten. Obsessed with rank and fortune is a more apt description. They all see wealthy members of the peerage as potential marks.”
“I assure you, I do not. I have absolutely no desire to marry you-or to become your mistress,” she added, amusement dancing in her eyes.
He couldn’t help but grin. “Your adamant rejection that night was rather insulting to my vanity.”
Her laugh was soft and light. “I doubt your vanity suffered too greatly. You expected me to leap at your offer, I know, but my refusal was no reflection on your qualifications as a potential patron.”
Bemused, Drew watched as she raised her glass to her lips to drink. He wasn’t sure at what point he had let himself be charmed by Roslyn Loring, but he was-intensely. Despite his determination, he found himself enchanted by her warm character and lively wit.
Her eyes were still warm, he noted, but her gaze turned thoughtful as she contemplated him over the rim of her glass. “Perhaps we could simply be friends. My sister is married to Marcus now, so we may be seeing more of each other in the future. And I don’t wish there to be any awkwardness between us.” An elegant dimple flashed in her cheek. “You can treat me as you do Eleanor, as a younger sister.”
He couldn’t possibly think of this woman as his sister, Drew reflected. Not after kissing her the way he had, after tasting her delectable body the way he had. Not with the powerful lust he still felt for her.
And yet he was surprised to find that he could relax in her company. Perhaps it was because she didn’t toady to him as most everyone else did. Or perhaps he was just no longer concerned that she might try to trap him in marriage.
“Friends it is,” he said, raising his glass in salute.
They both drank to the agreement, before Drew settled in a wing chair across from her. “So tell me about your husband-hunting plans. You mean to assist Haviland with his ball next week?”
“Yes,” Roslyn answered. “Before my mother left us, she taught me a good deal about running a genteel household and hosting social entertainments. I believe I can help his lordship make his ball a success.”
“And after that?”
“I’m not certain, but I will need to decide soon, since Haviland plans to remain here at his country villa for only a week or so after the ball to hold a houseparty for his relatives. Fanny promised to advise me, but I’ve had no time to give it much consideration with all the preparations for the wedding.” Roslyn cocked her head, her eyes still glimmering with laughter. “To be truthful, Fanny suggested that I ask you to instruct me. I think she was jesting, but the idea has merit.”
“Instruct you on what?” Drew asked warily.
“On the tricks a mistress uses to make her protector enamored of her.”
He nearly choked on his wine. “That is hardly a topic for a proper young lady to be discussing with a gentleman,” Drew rasped.
Roslyn laughed again. “Now who is being missish, your grace? I think we have already gone well beyond the bounds of propriety, don’t you? A little further won’t hurt.”
“You are actually serious.”
“Yes, of course. It is brazen of me, I know, but I have a great deal at stake, so it would behoove me to use any resources I can find. You are an acknowledged expert in mistresses, so I should like to hear your views on the subject.”
Drew frowned. “I doubt my views could help you.”
“Will you allow me to be the judge of that?”
He stared at her a long moment before giving in. “What do you want to know?”
“To begin with, why do you even employ a mistress?”
“For the usual reasons. Entertainment, companionship, pleasure.”
“So what makes you choose one over the other? What qualities do you look for? I suppose beauty is a chief requirement?”
Drew gave the question some thought, trying to remember his criteria for his last inamorata. “Beauty is desirable, but I mainly want one who is undemanding.”
“Who isn’t possessive? Fanny said that was what made you give up your last mistress.” When his eyebrow shot up, Roslyn smiled. “I am not asking to know the intimate details of your affairs. My question is purely academic-so I won’t make the same mistake with Lord Haviland. What else appeals to you in a mistress?”
She wasn’t going to relent, Drew realized. With mingled feelings of admiration and resignation, he settled back and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “I want one with enough wit to carry on an intelligent conversation. And, of course, she must be skilled at lovemaking.”
That last qualification made Roslyn blush, but she pressed on. “Yet there must be more to making a man become enamored. According to Fanny, a good mistress knows how to drive her protector a little wild and even enslave him.”
“And you want to enslave Haviland.”
“I don’t wish to go that far with the earl, merely rouse his ardor. I think you could advise me on how to achieve it.”
Drew found himself unable to stifle his amusement. “You truly are unique, Miss Loring.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “I doubt you mean that as a compliment, but no matter. I don’t mind that you have a low opinion of me, as long as you are willing to help me.”
He didn’t have a low opinion of her in the least. On the contrary, he was intrigued by her, even fascinated. He also liked that she was so refreshingly honest. But that didn’t mean he wanted to have anything to do with helping her snare Haviland for her husband.
When he hesitated, she made a tsking sound. “I think you must be afraid of me.”
“Afraid of you?”
“Yes. You are still concerned about compromising me. But I told you, you needn’t worry. I wouldn’t marry you under any circumstances.”
“I am not afraid of you, darling.”
“Then you should have no objection to teaching me what I need to know. You are reputed to be a magnificent lover. I would think you would want to prove it.”
His body’s response to her lighthearted words was quick and intense: His loins abruptly tightened.
“Are you challenging me, Beauty?”
“I believe I am.”
Her musical laughter rippled through him. Drew stiffened, not liking the way arousal made itself felt in his groin.
When he didn’t automatically take up her challenge, she took another tack. “Don’t you realize it is in your self-interest for me to attach Lord Haviland?”
“How do you conclude that?”
“So Lady Freemantle will cease hounding you. As long as you stay here, she will keep pushing us together. But we can foil her efforts if I acquire Haviland as a suitor. She won’t want to spoil my chances with him if he is truly courting me.”
Roslyn’s disarming smile affected Drew more than he cared to admit. She was intent on getting her own way with charm, much like Marcus’s minx of a sister. He could see Eleanor making such an outrageous request of him.
“You want me to tutor you in how to captivate Haviland so he will be eager to court you?”
“Yes, and so I can make him fall in love with me. I would be very grateful. And you would be doing Marcus a favor. He would be pleased if I could secure the earl for my husband. Marcus wanted to marry us off to perfect strangers, you know, when he first assumed our guardianship.”
Drew shook his head in wry disbelief. “I must be daft to even consider it.”
“But you want to,” she pressed.
He couldn’t respond with a denial. He had to admit he sympathized with her situation. Roslyn hadn’t deserved the difficulties she’d faced for the past four years. And it was certainly true that Marcus wanted to see her wed so he could cease worrying about her.
“I will have to give it some thought,” Drew said at last. “I am no authority on feminine arts of seduction.”
“But you know what appeals to you…how a woman could captivate your interest.”
I know how you could captivate my interest, Drew reflected silently. Judging from her wide-eyed innocent look, though, Roslyn had no idea how lascivious his thoughts were just now. How he wanted to lay her down and remove her gown very slowly, kissing each luscious creamy inch of her body…
Drew shook himself, focusing on her request. His mouth curled sardonically as he debated. He recognized the irony of helping a scheming debutante lure a man to his matrimonial doom when he himself had always been so set against marriage. Yet it was a novel prospect, teaching a proper young lady to be an ideal mistress. Besides, if he had to remain in Chiswick to keep an eye on the Loring sisters because a highwayman was menacing the district, instructing Roslyn would make the time pass faster.
He had no intention of going beyond the bounds of real propriety, of course, for in all honor, he couldn’t compromise the ward of his best friend without unwanted consequences.
To his surprise and amusement Drew found himself nodding. “Very well, I will give it a shot.”
Roslyn offered him a brilliant smile that made him blink with its sheer beauty. “Thank you, your grace. I think I can manage to sleep now.”
I am glad one of us can, Drew thought dryly. The image of Roslyn sleeping-her lovely body nude, her hair streaming across a satin pillow-played havoc with his loins.
His gaze settled on her ripe, tempting mouth, and his pulse quickened further as he fought the fierce urge to kiss her. There was a rational explanation for the rapid beating of his heart, for why this woman set his blood racing. It was pure lust of course.
The affliction would pass, he was certain.
Yet his fingers itched to free her golden hair from the confines of its elegant coiffure, to free her body from the confines of her stylish ballgown. He could picture taking her right here on the brocade couch, could imagine her coming alive in his arms, all yearning hunger. The thought of being inside her, that first thrust, made his groin ache. He wanted to bury himself in all that unawakened fire…
The erotic image shattered when Roslyn set her glass down on a side table and rose to her feet. “Good night, your grace. I will see you in the morning when you confer with Winifred’s bailiff.”
Drew rose politely as well and bowed, ignoring the frustrating ache in his loins. “Good night, Miss Loring.”
He watched as she turned away, his gaze drawn to the graceful sway of her hips as she left the parlor.
Blowing out a slow breath then, Drew ran a hand roughly through his hair. He couldn’t believe he had actually agreed to give her lessons in how to arouse a gentleman’s ardor. Especially when she presented such a powerful temptation to him.
But he could manage it, Drew told himself. He would be charming, distantly polite, even friendly.
Even so, he knew that keeping his hands off Roslyn would prove to be a severe exercise in self-control.