that’s the truth.”
“Harriet will be devastated. She plans to marry you,” Claire noted, ignoring his heartfelt admissions.
“You’re being facetious, no doubt, Miss Russell-may I call you Claire?”
“No. And I’m not being facetious. She will be heart-broken.”
He wished to say-flirts like Harriet didn’t have hearts to break, but chose a more tactful response. “Apropos marriage to your sister, Miss Russell, I’m afraid I’m not the marrying kind. Ask anyone-they’ll agree.”
“You’ve been leading her on.”
“Come, Miss Russell, you know better than that. You spoke differently last night-warning me away from your sister as I recall.”
She had the good grace to blush. “It’s just so unfair,” she said, rankled at the inequities of Society. “If our parents hadn’t died, Harriet might have been able to come out. Not in the best circles, but modestly at least and she would have found a suitable husband.”
The phrase-unlike you-was left unsaid, although it vibrated in the air like a tuning fork.
“Perhaps, I might be able to help,” he said, understanding Lady Luck had practically handed him his prize tied up with a pretty bow. “I would be willing to offer the wherewithal for Harriet to gain her suitable husband if you were inclined to help me in return.”
“Do tell.” A sound as cool as the winter sea.
“Are you always so off-putting?” he asked with a smile.
“Always,” she replied, without a smile.
But she hadn’t said no and she was still talking to him, he observed, skilled at recognizing interest in a woman-however minuscule in this instance. He pressed on. “I shan’t mince words, then. Here’s what I had in mind: If you would be willing to offer me your friendship, I would endeavor to see that Harriet is launched in the
“Yes.”
Miss Russell would make an excellent gambler, he thought. No emotion was evident on her face. “Very well. Once Harriet has entree into society, she will be besieged by any number of suitors, many of whom would be more than willing to marry such a lovely young woman. At the risk of offending you, might I point out that aristocratic men are rarely attuned to a woman’s sensibilities, only their beauty. And in that regard, Harriet will outshine her competition. I’ll wager you she’ll be engaged within the month. So you see, I shan’t break her heart and she will have the fine marriage she wants.”
“You’re very generous.”
“I want you to be happy.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Damned if I know. Ask Catherine. She understands me better than anyone.”
“Apropos this friendship of ours. What duration did you have in mind?”
“We’ll have to see.”
“How soon do you normally get bored with a woman?”
“Does anything ever excite you?” he queried, not sure if he should take umbrage or be grateful for her dispassionate view of his proposal.
“Any number of things excite me. But acquit me, Ormond, of wild excitement over being bought and paid for by a man like you.”
“Would some other kind of man elicit wild excitement in you?”
“Perhaps.”
“Then I should endeavor to become that man.”
“You can’t.”
“So sure?”
“Very sure.”
“If I should be mindful to try anyway, would you allow it?”
“For a month? Why not? You did promise my sister would be engaged within a month, did you not?”
“And she shall be.”
“Only to a man of her choice.”
“Of course. What did you think?”
“You have enough money to buy someone-that’s what I thought.”
Like you, he reflected, but kept his tongue. “It must be a man of her choice. My word on it.”
“How will I know that you’ll keep your word if I agree to this proposal of yours?”
“Catherine will vouch for me. Privately, of course,” he added to allay the sudden fear in her eyes.
A heavy silence fell.
He spoke first because he was more impatient-or less apprehensive. “I would not dream of forcing you in any way. I mean it most sincerely. Although,” he added with the faintest of smiles, “may I remind you now of the time. If you wish to get ready for tonight, we should leave.”
“Very well,” she said.
Unsure of her meaning, he inquired, “Very well what?”
“Very well, you may take me to your bed.”
“You make it sound like a penance.”
“We do not all live in the beau monde, Ormond, where amorous love is a form of entertainment. To people like me, love is love not sex. To simply agree to have sex with you because your bored gaze has fallen on me at the moment is not an easy decision.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like?”
“I don’t know. I wish I did.” Suddenly he was tired of coaxing and cajoling and explaining the unexplainable. “Do you want to or don’t you?” he asked, gruffly. “It’s up to you.”
“No, it’s up to you. You hold all the cards, Ormond. And for my sister’s sake, I’ll play your game.”
He almost said,
“Don’t you ever get angry, Ormond?”
“Only hope you never see me angry,” he softly replied. “Shall we?” He offered her his arm.
A shiver raced up her spine as she placed her hand on his forearm.
Was it fear or something more provocative?
She looked up to find him staring at her.
“I think we’ll muddle along just fine, Miss Russell,” he murmured, as though he knew something she didn’t know. “You please me immeasurably.”
Chapter Six
The carriage ride was largely silent, both occupants immersed in their own thoughts. Or in the case of the viscount-in making plans.
He didn’t feel he could press Claire now for times and places.
But that didn’t curtail him from speculating on appropriate venues.
Nor did it diminish his buoyant good cheer.
First things first, though. He must see that Harriet made an appropriate splash tonight.
Feeling it would be acceptable to at least discuss Harriet’s entree into society, he said, “If you’ll excuse me tonight, I plan to pay considerable attention to your sister. At the risk of sounding vain, it will add to her consequence.”
“I understand.”
