“Well?” he muttered as the silence lengthened.
“No.”
“And why is that do you suppose?” Smooth as silk.
“Don’t take that tone with me,” she bristled. “I’m not ten years old and you’re not without guilt!”
“Lady Blessington isn’t ten years old either; she understands where babies come from. In this instance, her child comes compliments of her stable boy. She’d prefer the child be of ducal blood, of course,” he said, an edge to his voice. “A common enough desire, I’ve found. Which is why I’m extremely cautious.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll accept your apology.”
“Why should I believe you?” she countered. “And even if I did, Lady Blessington is only one small portion of my frustration with you.”
“You didn’t seem frustrated last night.”
His soft drawl was unmitigated arrogance. “Neither did you,” she retorted, as capable of arrogance when it came to her sexual talents as he.
A cheeky smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You
“I know.” That should wipe away his smile.
It did. “What the hell does that mean?”
“You know very well what it means. Do you think you’re the only person who likes a little variety in their bed?”
“How much variety?”
“I don’t see how it’s any of your business, do you?” she purred.
A muscle along his jaw twitched. “No.”
“Good. Then you won’t take offense when I tell you that I’ve decided to look farther afield… in terms of bed partners.”
One brow quirked in derision. “The stableboy at the castle, perhaps?”
“Acquit me of Lady Blessington’s tastes, present company excepted, of course. It’s no one you know.”
“What if I told you, I wasn’t ready to relinquish your company yet.”
“I’d say it’s eighteen twenty-one and women are no longer chattel.”
“A shame the queen didn’t know that before she died.”
Touche, she thought, although she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “I live under less restrictions than a queen. Protocol hardly applies to me.”
“And yet you insist I not compromise you.”
“Damn it, Simon, stop! I don’t want to argue endlessly with you. You have spent years dallying with whom you please. Kindly give me the same options. You don’t own me. You have no familial rights if such still exist. We’re friends, no more.”
He knew when to retreat. He had considerable experience with appeasing women. “You’re right,” he said, pleasantly. “I shouldn’t have been so insistent. You have every right to live your life as you please. If it’s friends you want to be, then it’s friends we’ll be.”
His sudden about face gave her pause and she scrutinized his face for a moment His gaze was open, his smile warm. “Thank you, Simon. I appreciate your understanding.” But at some inexplicable level, she felt deflated. Didn’t he care anymore? Could he walk away without a backward glance?
“Since we’re simply friends, why not come down for dinner? I’d enjoy your company. Not that I don’t like discussing Ian and Jane’s favorite topics of hunting and riding, but I’d welcome a breath of fresh air in terms of conversation. We could debate, say, France’s restored monarchy and its reactionary policies.”
She smiled. “Don’t get me on
“Particularly when your dear, departed husband is so sadly missed,” he noted, mockingly.
“If he were indeed departed, the world would be a better place,” she replied without a hint of irony.
“I suppose this isn’t the time to ask why you married him?”
“Not unless you wish me to ask you what you found so fascinating about Lady Blessington. I’ve always found Daphne incredibly dull.”
He raised his hands. “You decide on the topics of conversation tonight at dinner. I’ll take my cue from you.”
Wouldn’t it be nice if he would? she thought with a touch of wistfulness. “Did I say I’d dine with you?”
He grinned. “I thought I heard you say you would.”
“What if I don’t have anything to wear?”
He almost exhaled in relief at her apparent acquiescence. “Whatever you wear, will be perfect, I’m sure.” I’ll buy out London for you, he wished to say. And Paris too. “What you have on now will do nicely,” he said instead.
She laughed. “You
“I’m way behind you, darling, in terms of charm.” And if he dared, he’d walk across the room, pull her into his arms and kiss her soundly.
The look in his eyes warmed her heart. She should take offense at his outrageous seduction. She should say, Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. But she didn’t. “Go, now,” she said. “I have to dress.”
“Champagne in the Tudor drawing room first.”
“When?”
“Come early. I’ll be there.”
His smile was heart-stoppingly sweet. Not dangerous or seductive, nor cynical and knowing. When the door closed on him, she felt a joy quite out of proportion to the simple conversation.
How could it hurt to enjoy an evening of company downstairs? And regardless of Simon’s cavalier manner with women, apparently this time, he wasn’t to blame.
So, now… what in her much reduced wardrobe would be appropriate to wear?
Chapter 13
When Simon returned to his rooms, his good spirits were evident. “She said no at first. You were right. But-”
“She changed her mind,” Bruno said, looking up from polishing Simon’s hunting boots.
“Just barely. So have bathwater brought up posthaste. I want to be waiting for her in the drawing room when she arrives. She’s skittish.”
His valet glanced at the clock. “It’s two hours until dinner.”
“I can tell time.” Simon began stripping off his jacket.
“Yes, sir, bathwater right away, sir.”
Simon entered the Tudor drawing room less than a half hour later, quickly searched the interior and smiled. Good. He’d arrived first. He didn’t wish to take any chances Caro might change her mind should she enter an empty room.
Jane had said drinks at eight. That would give him time to talk to Caroline without interruption. God only knew if she was serious about variety in her bed. But if she was, he’d have to change her mind. Gently, of course. She didn’t take orders. He drank three quick brandies while waiting. If he’d been introspective, he might have taken note of his unease. But over the years, he’d become adept at ignoring introspection. A wise choice for a man of intemperance.
As the door opened and Caroline walked in, he came to his feet with a smile. “I’ve started without you. Come sit by the fire. Would you like brandy or champagne?”
“Brandy, please.”
Of course, she preferred brandy. He recalled that fact with inordinate pleasure, as though he’d discovered a long lost memento. “You look wonderful.” She’d plaited her hair and drawn it into a coronet atop her head, her shoulders were bare, her decolletage breathtaking. She wore a small cameo brooch that looked vaguely familiar at the neckline of her gown. Her gown, while dated, was expensive. Someone had had money enough to buy her that. His smile tightened at the thought.
