“I’m sorry,” he said as he came up. “You can have the filly.”
“I don’t want her.”
“You can have her anyway.”
He smiled; she rarely screamed when she was angry. She usually spoke in that cool voice of disdain. “Seeing you at close range makes me feel in charity with the world, darling.”
“I’m not your darling. I believe Lady Howe is at the moment.”
“I sent her home.”
“Am I supposed to be appeased?”
He felt like saying,
“Reminds you of your impending fatherhood?”
“I was going to say, makes me think of you fondly until you effectively tempered those feelings,” he said drily.
“I suspect you’re just looking for a change of partners for the afternoon to avert the boredom. Perhaps fondness isn’t a requirement after all.”
He smiled, capable of overlooking arch derision for a greater purpose. “You might be right. You probably are. But you look delectable in that gown. Come talk to me at least; I’ll attempt to restrain my baser instincts.”
“Do you dare be seen with me?” she said, snide and abrasive. “How will you explain it to Nell?”
He never explained anything to Nell, but rather than aggravate his wife’s fractious mood, he decided to eliminate some of the obstacles from the landscape. “Would it help for me to say I was sorry?”
“For which licentious offense? Surely you don’t confine your amusements to Nell.”
“How’s Will if we’re into full disclosure?” he acidly inquired, his gaze suddenly cool like hers.
“Annoying. Can you say the same for Lady Howe et al?”
“I could.” A mirthless smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “But that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me. How often does Will annoy you?” Fine-drawn malice at the last.
She softly sighed. “Why are we doing this? It can’t matter in the least.”
“No, I suppose not.” Struggling to keep his temper in check, he reminded himself that Will was there before him and so it would remain. “Tell me,” he diplomatically said, “how are you feeling?”
Her smile was heart-stopping when it shouldn’t have been, when it shouldn’t have mattered to him one way or another, when he’d been trying for weeks to forget that sunny smile.
“I’m feeling fruitful and happily pregnant. The staff has assembled a lovely layette and”-
“Disgruntled and sullen. Although you could make me feel better.” He smiled sweetly, better seduction than actual feeling. “Come, darling. I promise to behave if you wish. Talk to me, that’s all. Davey can sit in the room with us if you like.”
She shouldn’t. She was just exposing herself to more heartache; he was more beautiful than ever even with the dark circles under his eyes. “I shouldn’t,” she said.
“I shouldn’t have asked. Come anyway. We’ll worry about the practicalities later.”
“Don’t you always.”
He grinned. “I could think about changing for you.”
It was smooth and suave and untrue. “No need for such a sacrifice,” she said, smiling herself, suddenly jettisoning better judgment because she was being offered a few moments in Elysium. “Perhaps I can stop by for a short time.”
“Thank you,” he quietly said, surprised at the shocking degree of pleasure he felt. Offering her his arm, he half turned, raised his hand, and signaled for his carriage, which had been following behind.
“I should tell Grover,” Isolde mentioned as he handed her into his closed landau a few moments later.
“Send him a message when we reach my house. Or would you like to drive back and tell him?”
“No, a message will do.” It was too embarrassing to face her steward after succumbing so readily to Oz’s invitation. But then love made one foolish.
Dimitri and Grover watched Oz’s carriage drive up, watched Isolde step inside, looked at each other, and lifted their brows.
“It’s good,” Dimitri said. “She wants him. Why shouldn’t she have him?”
“Because he doesn’t want to be had,” Grover muttered. “Damn him.”
CHAPTER 26
AS THEY ENTERED his house, Oz said to Josef, “Have Achille prepare some refreshments for my lady.”
“That’s not necessary,” Isolde quickly interposed. “Really, I’m not staying long.”
“He doesn’t mind. Brandy for me, Josef. And send a message to-” He glanced at Isolde.
“Perceval House, Mayfair. Give Mr. Grover my direction.”
“There now, all is in order,” Oz pleasantly said. Leading her across the hall, he opened the door into a small drawing room. “Please make yourself comfortable.”
She hadn’t seen the little jewel of a room before, but then she’d not been in residence long and the house was very large. “How lovely.” Standing on the threshold, she surveyed the octagonal room, brilliant with sunlight, the window walls framed with gilded moldings, the painted ceiling a pale blue sky filled with colorful birds.
“My mother’s room,” he said. “She painted.”
“This?”
“Some of it.” He eased past her. “Come, sit down. I’ll send the filly up to Oak Knoll tomorrow. Consider it an apology for my various sins.”
“An expensive apology.” She followed him in.
“Only because of my vicious temper,” he said and turning, offered her his practiced smile. “I have no excuse. You’ll enjoy her, though, so maybe the gods were in charge after all.”
“Any special god?” Arch riposte to his facile smile.
Unmoved, Oz said, “Take your pick,” then added in a more agreeable tone that took in account the reason he’d invited her here and the pleasure he felt for the first time in weeks, “Please, sit here.” He indicated a sofa. “You can put up your feet.”
“I don’t
“Ah,” he murmured, cool tempered to her pet. “That’s how little I know about pregnancy. Sit where you wish then.” Dropping onto the sofa, he swung his booted feet up onto the flowered chintz, crossed his ankles, and resting against the upholstered arm, slid into a comfortable sprawl. “I didn’t know you had a house in town.”
“I didn’t know you had an estate in Kent.” At Tattersalls she’d heard him order the first horses he purchased be sent there.
He smiled.
Feeling her face flush hotly, she said with equal nonchalance, “If only there had been time.” Taking a chair across the room from him, she smoothed her skirts over her knees in unconscious resistance to the beautiful, faithless man lounging on the pale flowered sofa in his mother’s jewel of a room.
“There never is, it seems. Perhaps we could take a few minutes today to exchange confidences,” he offered, impervious to her sarcasm. “Take off your lovely spring hat and stay awhile. I won’t attack you, I promise.”
“I wasn’t concerned,” she comfortably returned, untying the ribbons and placing her hat, purse, and gloves on a nearby table. Assuredly, Oz had never been obliged to attack a woman. “But I can’t tarry long. Grover and I are driving home this afternoon. You look tired,” she abruptly said when she shouldn’t have, when she should have restrained her impulse. When Oz’s needs were already sufficiently catered to by numerous women.
He didn’t seem to notice or at least didn’t resort to some quelling retort. He only said, “I haven’t been sleeping well.” Or much at all, those close to him would affirm.