Leslie Lafoy (35 page)

DRAYTON SMILED. GOD, SHE HAD INCREDIBLY GOOD FAN
-tasies. Of course, when he could feel anything other than intensely drugged satisfaction, it was likely to be a neck crick and leg cramps. Thinking to shift a bit to prevent it, he forced his eyes open. And promptly forgot all about the prospect of pain.

Straddling his hips, her skirt rucked up to her waist and her bodice and corset opened and spread wide, she leaned back against the wall of his legs with her eyes closed and her lips curved in the sweetest, sated smile. She was . . . His mind stumbled through the words, trying to separate them from swirling emotion. Magnificent, yes. And breathtaking. Delicious, bold, exquisitely intuitive. Everything. And his.

Yes, his. He reached up to stroke the pads of his thumbs over the taut peaks of her breasts. Only his. For as long as he could keep her. And damn the selfishness of it, damn the possibility of scandal. He didn’t care.

“I think,” she murmured dreamily, covering his hands with hers and pressing them hard against her breasts, “that our seven minutes are gone.”

“A good half hour ago.” And it was going to be another half hour before he let her go for even a short while. He shifted his hips beneath her, thrusting upward and quickening the return of his erection.

She sat up, and still holding his hands over her breasts, rotated her hips to draw him deeper as she softly whispered, “People are probably out looking for us.”

“They can wait another seven minutes,” he declared. Rolling her over onto her back, he gently pinned her hands over her head, bent his head and slowly dragged his tongue over the hardened, tender peak of her breast. “They can wait forever.”

SOMETHING WAS DIFFERENT. SOMETHING HAD CHANGED
. She could feel it in the silence hanging between them as she tied off her corset ribbon. Something that made the satisfaction deeper, more complete. And, well, heavier, too. She glanced over at him while she buttoned her dress
front, hoping to see a hint of it in his eyes. And found only a wickedly handsome, half-dressed man reclining into the corner of the carriage, his eyes closed and his expression far away. Deciding that she was the only one aware of the new current, she bent down and retrieved her shoes.

“Caroline?”

She looked over at him, but his eyes remained closed as he went on, saying quietly, “I don’t love you, but I will admit, quite readily, that I do love having sex with you. You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever known.”

I don’t love you.
Her heart aching, she forced herself to smile as broadly as she could and say breezily, “Thank you. I find you rather appealing, too. In a casual but intensely physical sort of way. It’s going to be very difficult to find another lover who’s as good at pleasing me as you are.”

He cleared his throat, sat up, and reached for his boot, saying, “I’m sure you’ll inspire him to all new heights of manly performance.”

She didn’t want to inspire anyone but him. “I’m selfish enough about my pleasure to hope so,” she said, keeping her secret. “Thank you, Drayton,” she added, opening the carriage door and letting herself out while she still had the composure to maintain the façade. “I feel infinitely less frustrated now.”

He nodded and she blew him a kiss, then turned, gathered her skirts into her trembling fists, and summoned every last shred of her strength to walk calmly away.

“
GLAD ONE OF US ISN
’
T FRIGGING FRUSTRATED
,”
HE
growled, sagging back into the corner of the carriage and staring blankly at the roof.
“In a casual but intensely physical sort of way.”
Goddammit, there wasn’t anything casual in how he felt about her. Not anymore.

No, he didn’t love her. He’d been honest about that. But she
was
the most incredible woman he’d ever met. She was intelligent and funny and irreverent. She whirled through life, confident that she could do anything, make everything around her perfect and right. And she could. With amazing poise and competence and ease. He respected her honesty and her integrity. He trusted her judgment. He was, when it came down to the fundamental truth of it all, in awe of her. And the sex was damn good, too.

“And I’m not sharing her,” he growled, setting himself in motion. Snatching his boot up from the floor, he rammed his foot into it and threw himself out the open door so that he could put his clothes on straight. She’d go looking for another lover when hell froze over and not one day before, he vowed, yanking up his trousers and ramming his shirttail in.

“In a casual but intensely physical sort of way.” Casual,
he silently snarled, buttoning up. That made him the only goddamn thing in her life that she considered—

He blinked and looked past the haze of his anger. And silently swore. “Aubrey,” he gritted out as his mind raced through what might pass for believable explanations.

“Yes,” his friend said, leaning back against the wheel of the carriage and staring off toward the end of the stable. “I saw Lady Caroline leave a few moments ago. Fixing her hairpins as she went back to the house. Not that her effort was disguising much.”

All right, so they’d been caught. It wasn’t the end of the world. Aubrey had had his fair share of dalliances. “I trust that you’ll be discreet about it.”

“I’ll hold my tongue. But it’s only a matter of time
before it’s someone else who catches the two of you together.” He turned his head to meet Drayton’s gaze. “Or haven’t you noticed that your house is teeming with people who have far too much time on their hands and no particular loyalty to you?”

Drayton crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder against the stable wall. “I sense a lecture barreling my way.”

“You’ve made a lecture pointless,” Aubrey countered, turning to face him squarely. “I’m afraid that what you sense bearing down on you is an ultimatum.”

“Oh?”
This should be interesting.

“You’ve crossed the line with one ward, Drayton,” his friend said, sounding genuinely regretful. “How long do you think it will take for the story of your affair with Lady Caroline to be transformed into one of an affair with Lady Simone or one with Lady Fiona?”

“Oh, please, Aubrey,” he said, coming off the wall and heading for the stable door. “That’s beyond ludicrous.”

“As you and I both know,” Aubrey said firmly, stepping into his path. “But what matters is that it’s not beyond people to tell the tale as though they’d seen the debauchery with their own eyes.”

The bastards.
“Then we’ll give them something else to talk about,” he snarled. “Caroline and I will just run off to Gretna Green and be done with it. Now get out of my way.”

Aubrey didn’t budge. “Would it be too much to ask that you use just a bit of common sense in the situation?”

“Marrying her solves the problem.”
So would killing you
. “How much more common sense is necessary? Move.”

“Yes, it does solve the immediate problem,” Aubrey allowed, standing his ground. “I will concede that. But I do ask that you think about the longer-term consequences.”

“God,” he groaned, throwing his head back. “Don’t tell me that I’m going to have to hear another homage to the importance of money.”

“It would be a waste of breath. You have absolutely no respect for wealth.”

All right, he’d let Aubrey make his goddamn point and then he’d tell him one more time to get out of the way and let him pass. If he didn’t, he’d knock him on his ass and step over him. “So what is it that you’d like me to take into consideration?”

“Do you love Lady Caroline?”

Jesus. He hadn’t been expecting that question at all.

“Or is it more a matter of loving the risk in having an illicit affair with her?”

“Well, that’s no small factor in it,” he admitted. “As for loving her . . .” He shrugged. “I think that perhaps, in time, we could grow into love.”

“Or perhaps you couldn’t. Do you want to be shackled for the rest of your life to a woman you don’t love?”

Drayton tilted his head to the side, amazed that Aubrey would even think to argue from that standpoint. “Have you not noticed the general quality of the marriages in temporary residence at my house?” he asked. “It seems to me that no one marries for love.”

“No, they don’t,” he answered. “They marry, for the most part, for money.”

And here they were, as always, back to the power of the almighty British pound. “You said you’d be wasting your breath.”

“Look, Drayton, you’re a good friend,” Aubrey said on a sigh. He went back to his regretful approach when he added, “If you loved Lady Caroline, if you firmly believed that it would stand the test of time, then I’d step
aside and wish the two of you only happiness and the best of life. But you’ve admitted that you don’t, and so I can’t let you make a huge mistake without trying to prevent it.”

He wouldn’t be talking marriage at all if Aubrey had just agreed at the beginning of the conversation to keep his frigging mouth shut.

“Glower at me all you like,” the other said. “It doesn’t change the basic facts of your situation. If there’s no love involved in the decision, you’d be a damn fool to marry without getting all the money and prestige you can for the sacrifice.”

“It’s mercenary.”

“It’s realistic,” Aubrey shot back. “And marrying Lady Caroline is not only an easy way out of you having to play the marriage market game, but highly unfair to her.”

“Unfair?”

“Good God, man,” the other retorted, flinging his hands up in clear exasperation. “The woman is the daughter of a duke! And not at all unattractive!” He raked his fingers through his hair and drew a deep breath before he added more calmly, “Somewhere on the Continent, Drayton, there’s a prince who’s going to come to London for the Season, see her, and think that she’d be the perfect queen for his little kingdom. Not to disparage your high rank and all that, but you really can’t match that sort of offering.”

Oh, God. He hadn’t thought of that. In his mind’s eye he’d always pictured men like Aubrey and Haywood courting her. Men she’d treat kindly, but never take seriously. But a prince who could offer her a kingdom, a fairy-tale life . . . “It’s her decision,” he said even as his heart told him that she deserved to be a queen.

“As I fully understand,” Aubrey allowed quietly. “But don’t you think that she’d be better able to consider the
merits of every proposal if she isn’t sleeping in your bed when she receives them?”

The world under his feet sagged and turned to mush. It took every dram of his resolve to keep his balance. Two futures unfolded before his eyes and it took every battered strand of his self-control to hold back the cry as he faced the only one he could choose.

“All right, Drayton. Here’s what we’re going to do,” Aubrey said. “We’re going to pack our bags and retire to London. Tell everyone that the Mayfair house needs repairs that you have to oversee. Or that you have to prepare for the opening of Parliament. Either excuse will suffice. The important thing is that you’re going to end the possibility for scandal and let matters between you and Lady Caroline die so that both of you can make decisions with unclouded vision.”

God, he ached. To the center of his bones, to the cold hollow of his soul. “And if I don’t fall into line?” he asked, knowing that he was going to, that it was the only kind and fair thing to do for the sake of Caroline’s future happiness.

“I don’t know,” Aubrey said glumly. “I guess somehow prepare Mother for the fact that her son is going down in infamy as the loyal and stalwart friend of England’s greatest pervert.”

The
H.M.S. Aubrey
would roll over on her keel. But not before she’d formally disowned her pilot boat. “The stable boys are in the conservatory today,” Drayton said, leaning back against the carriage, his body suddenly leaden. “Go fetch one of them to get a coach ready for us.”

“Thank you, Drayton.”

He nodded. “There may come a day when I can thank you, Aubrey. It’s just not today.”

“I understand. I’ll be back shortly.”

No. No, Aubrey didn’t understand. Drayton wasn’t even sure himself how deep the wound went, how long it would take for the emptiness to fill and and the aching to fade. He’d never in his life felt this way. It was nothing like the pain that had come with his parents’ passings. There had been a naturalness to those good-byes, a sense of having traveled all the road with them that had been destined. This . . . His throat tightening, he swallowed hard and expelled a long, slow, steadying breath. He’d get through it. He’d do the right thing even if it killed him. He’d make a clean, swift, merciful break and not look back.

LADY AUBREY LOOKED DOWN AT THE NOTES CAROLINE
was dutifully making. “What about congealed eel? That is always popular.”

With whom?
Caroline silently asked, her stomach roiling as she wrote it down on the menu.

“Lady Caroline? Might I speak with you privately for a moment?”

Drayton? In the house in the middle of the afternoon? Her heart skittering, she looked over to the parlor door. Yes, Drayton. Dressed in a dark suit, a greatcoat draped over his arm, a hat in his hand. Her stomach clenched. Oh, God. Something was wrong. She could hear the tightness in his voice, see the tension in the hard line of his shoulders and the width of his stance.

“I’m afraid not, Lord Ryland,” Mother Aubrey answered even as Caroline gained her feet. “The rules of propriety, you understand. Lady Caroline’s reputation must be protected.”

“Thank you for the reminder, Lady Aubrey,” he said, bowing slightly to the matron. “We’ll stay well within your sight.”

“I can see that you’re dressed for going out,” Caroline said softly as they walked together into the foyer. “Is there a problem in the village?”

He shook his head slowly and waited until they reached the center table before saying, “We’ve been caught, Caroline.”

No. Oh, no, no. This can’t be happening. Stop talking to the wall. Look at me, Drayton.

Ignoring her silent pleas, he kept his gaze firmly fixed on the plaster between two of the potted fig trees. “Aubrey’s delivered an ultimatum as only Aubreys seem able to do. And since, as much as it pains me to admit it, he’s right, I’m leaving for London as soon as my bags are put in the carriage.”